6. Face to Face
6
FACE TO FACE
O’CONNOR
“I never said you could bring the dog,” I protested.
“That’s fine,” Archer said. “We don’t have to meet in your house. We can talk out here. Okay with me.”
The man was entirely too cocky. Twenty-four million people had read my assessment of our date. He should have been sobbing in the corner. Instead, he wore his swagger like a mink stole. Probably had something to do with the huge, hulking pickup truck in my driveway.
The meeting wasn’t starting out as I’d planned. Frowning, I opened my front door further and let them both in.
“I don’t usually invite people up here,” I said as I led them to the back deck. “I hope you appreciate that.”
“I appreciate not meeting in Phil’s conference room. It has glass walls, and I already feel like I’m in a fishbowl as it is. Nice back here.” He sat on the bench that ringed the deck, regally pronouncing his approval of my space.
I’d done my research. Archer Armstrong acted like he was already in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, but if he had as much as a thousand dollars in his bank account, I’d be astonished. Son of middle-class parents, no impressive work history, an obvious love of clothes that hugged his perfect body—Archer was not a saver. There was no 401(k) or other retirement plans in his portfolio.
And he was looking at my multimillion-dollar house as if it would do.
“So glad you approve. I was going to record our meeting in my studio, but I think your dog will be happier outside. Give me a minute to gather up some equipment and we’ll do it out here.”
He stood again. “You have a studio here? Like, a recording studio?”
I looked down my nose at him. “I am a social media influencer. I make videos. Where else would you possibly imagine I make them?”
“Sorry, Your Honor. I didn’t mean to offend. And Charlotte here has been in plenty of recording studios. She’d be well-behaved, wouldn’t you, baby?”
The dog, an enormous beast in a dark, sooty gray who came up to my waist, looked at him adoringly. Of course she did. She was female and not likely to be subjected to his teeth during a good-night kiss.
“Anything she breaks, you’ll replace.” I was being harsh, but this meeting wasn’t going as I’d planned, and I couldn’t get my feet back under me.
Archer whistled as he entered my studio. “Damn. Look at all this. You’ve got, like, a professional studio down here!”
“It’s not like a professional studio. It is a professional studio.”
“Must have cost you a mint,” he said artlessly.
I didn’t bother to answer. Of course it had cost me a mint. But the Brentwood neighborhood was the kind of place where a full, complete recording studio in the basement would only help with the resale value.
“Sit over there.” I’d already arranged an interview space. I’d had to drag a second chair from upstairs. I usually worked alone down here.
I did my thing. Lights adjusted so we’d both look good. Sound baffles in place. I stepped around the now-sleeping dog to pin a microphone to the collar of his white shirt. “What is it with you and always wearing white? The only time you didn’t was the tuxedo.”
“Yeah, I looked at white tuxedos, but they look cheesy if you have to rent them. Maybe I’ll able to get one made for me one day. Armani, you know?”
I checked his sound levels, turned on the cameras, and checked the focus before I sat across from him and pinned on my own mic. “So, you always wear white?”
He grinned, the triangular shape his lips made a definite warning sign of assholeness. “I’m the avenging angel. It was Nicky’s idea—that’s Ian’s girlfriend. I’m the angel, Ian is death, and Mal wears mostly purple because he’s Judgment. Makes us more Aftermath-y.”
Aftermath-y. Huh. It was sort of a good idea.
“Besides,” he said. “I look really good in white.” The arrogance was just staggering. He was right, of course, but who in their right mind would admit it out loud? “And sometimes I wear denim if it’s faded. But mostly I wear white.”
I needed to clear my head. Why were we talking about what Archer looked good in?
Let’s just nip this right in the bud.
“All right, Archer. You’re going to attend my dating school. You’re the very first pupil.”
“I’m thrilled and honored.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm until he grinned and spoke in more natural tones. “Phil said I had to say that, and now I have. ”
“Right,” I said dryly. “And I totally believed it.”
“Good.”
“I’ve drawn up a curriculum for my school, and I think it’s one that every man in America should follow.”
“None of the women?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You don’t think the women of America need dating advice too?” He wasn’t doing a very good job of masking his contempt, but that just made me feel more at home.
“I think the women of America aren’t the problem, and would prefer if their dates all paid attention to these six topics.” I waved my tablet at him, and his lip curled.
“Only six? You sure that’s all you need to build your perfect man?”
“I’m not building the perfect man. He doesn’t exist. I’m building the perfect date.”
“I see. You’re on a mission to help women everywhere. Well, by all means, let me hear your list. I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”
I ignored his scorn. The ruder he was, the more popular this series would be. “There are subsections.”
“Of course there are.”
Keep being smug, big guy. You’re just making my numbers go higher. “The first topic is appearance. That includes cleanliness, clothing choice, and personal grooming.”
Archer’s eyebrows went up in astonishment. He flicked his hands out in a “ta-da” gesture. “Seriously? You think this can be improved upon?”
Oh, that vain, self-righteous prick. I am going to make you writhe.
But once again, the guy had a point. “I will post about those issues separately. I think you pass this class topic.”
He made a psht of contempt. “Uh, yeah. With flying colors. ”
Revolting. Self-centered prig. “Lesson two is manners. That includes table manners, basic etiquette, and making your date feel comfortable. You have to learn to read the room.”
“You weren’t comfortable with me?” He was defensive, which was unfair of him.
“I certainly was not comfortable with you, Archer. You never once checked in to see how I was feeling!”
Dial it back, O’Connor , I thought to myself. Let him whip off those statements clearly punctuated by exclamation points. My job was to stay calm. End my sentences in periods or question marks.
“So I’m supposed to hover over you like a nanny? I can’t trust you to see to your own comfort?”
In fact, I hated people who hovered, but that wasn’t the point. “There’s a spectrum of behavior that you’re not understanding. You don’t have to be all or nothing. There’s a valuable middle ground.”
“There’s a valuable middle ground for you too—” he started.
I cut him off. “Lesson three is where you really need the help, and you and I will take two sessions to cover it, not just one.”
“Yeah? What’s that topic? Enduring bitchy behavior?”
I fought down my flair of anger. Thanks, Archer. That should be good for another hundred thousand likes or so. “The topic is personality.”
Archer scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can teach me about a good personality.”
“Subtopics in this category include being interested and being interesting. Being kind, both to your date and to everyone else. Carry the conversational ball—don’t hog it. Watch out for name-dropping. It’s okay to tell a good story, but show some humility. And amuse your date. Be funny if you can, ”
“I’m fucking funny!”
“Yeah,” I said with a sneer. “You’ve got ’em rolling in the aisles.”
“Honestly, you’re just?—”
“The fourth topic will be planning the date itself—setting the schedule, deciding on an activity and where to eat, how to pay for things without acting like you’re showing off. Plus, do you think buying a woman dinner means you’re entitled to sex?” He tried to answer, but I overrode him. “How much do you tip? She’ll learn a lot about your personality by how generous you are with the staff and how obvious or subtle you are about it. Plus, what to do if she wants to pay.”
“Anything else? Do you want to tell me how to wipe my ass too?”
“If it affects your personal cleanliness, yes. See lesson one, which I thought we’d agreed we could skip.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Lesson five is on how to end the evening. You already know I have issues with your kiss, and we can talk about it.”
“And practice it. I can kiss you better. I want to try.”
“Absolutely not. You don’t kiss the teacher. Finally, the last lesson will be about being straightforward about expectations. Honesty is important here. Stop glaring at me, Archer. I’m trying to help you learn to read the room.”
“I can fucking read the room.”
I glared at him but kept my voice icy. “If someone pays nine thousand dollars at a charity auction for the pleasure of your company, you do not repay her with a fish taco from a street vendor and then offer to buy her a sombrero.”
“I said anything under a hundred dollars!”
“Archer,” I said, “look around you. Do I look like the kind of person who would be grateful for a shopping spree on Venice Beach?”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. Sorry I didn’t take you to Bulgari. You might be rolling in the Benjamins, but I’m not. I thought this was about having a good time, not measuring how much money was spent.”
Damn it, he’d made me look greedy. And I was not greedy.
I ignored him and pressed on. “Your agent gave me your schedule, so I’m going to suggest the days when you and I will meet. And because money is not important to me”—I glared at him to make my point—“I will fly to your locations.”
“We’ll certainly arrange a parade in your honor, Your Majesty.”
Snarky bastard. “Look, Archer. I’m about to name places where Aftermath will be playing in small clubs and theaters. My followers will hear those places. At least some of them are going to show up at your concert just to look at you. This will be very good for you. Stop acting like this is such a burden.”
“Right. Like you’re not going to edit that out of your video so you don’t look like you’re counting followers.”
I had been planning on doing exactly that, but if he was going to call my bluff, I’d change my tactic just to prove him wrong. “This full video will play in its entirety. People know I’m honest.” He rolled his eyes, but I knew myself. I took pride in my honesty. He could suck on that. “So, again, please stop being so defensive.”
“Defensive? You told the entire gossip-reading world that I don’t know how to kiss. I’m the front man for a rock band. Long gone are the days when a homely musician could reach the top. It’s not enough that I sing, and that I play the bass, and that I wrote two of our most popular songs. I also have to be sexy. Sexy! And you told the world I couldn’t kiss! You think I’m defensive now? You ain’t seen shit yet, lady.”
People often got mad about the things I posted, but I didn’t usually have then sitting across a small table from me. This was why I didn’t let people into my studio.
“October twentieth,” I said woodenly. “You have a gig at the Mohegan Sun Casino in Connecticut. I’ll meet you in New York City on the nineteenth for our first lesson. We’ll talk about manners.”
“Send me your schedule.”
“I’ll say it out loud. You want me to say it out loud. You don’t think the casino gig won’t get a boost in ticket sales from me telling everyone about it?”
He growled and threw his hands in the air. “Go ahead. Knock yourself out.”
“On the twenty-third, you’re doing a gig in . . . Omaha? You’re going to Nebraska?”
He shrugged and wouldn’t meet my eye. Too angry. “You think the people in Nebraska don’t need some great music? We’re going to a new club called Steelhouse Omaha. It’s going to rock. Hard.”
“All right. I can go to Omaha.” There was always a first time for everything. “We’ll begin the long lesson on personality.”
“Not a moment too soon, I’m sure.”
“Stop rolling your eyes. You’ll be at a gig in Atlanta on the first of November.”
“The Fox Theatre. A classic venue. We’re really psyched to be playing there.” He didn’t sound psyched. He sounded mournful.
I’d let all the air out of his toy’s tires. Poor baby. “I’ll see you there to finish up with personality.”
“Only two sessions to repair my flawed self? You must be really good at this.”
“You’ve got a break in the middle of November. I’d like to meet your family.”
“Now, hang on. You’re not getting my family involved in this shit.”
“People will want to know where you came from. I’ll come to New York. Long Island, right?” His handsome jaw was set. The pirate was on the verge of mutiny. I’d have to see what I could do to get his parents on film. “We’ll talk about setting up a good date. Now, here’s a good one. You’re playing at First Avenue in Minneapolis on November 26? That’s impressive.”
His mouth was pulling upward in a reluctant smile. He wanted to be angry, but remembering the upcoming gig was messing with his pout. “Just the 7th St. Entry, not the Mainroom, but it’s still Prince’s home. We’re going to play First Avenue! I mean, shit!”
For a moment, I was caught in the blaze of his excitement. Then he realized who he was grinning at, and he relaxed into his frown again.
“I’m sure it will be amazing. I’ll be there for the show, and so we can talk about how to end a date.”
“I’d like to end this interview.”
“So would I. The last lesson about relationships will take place on November thirtieth. You’re playing in Las Vegas?”
“Resorts World Theatre.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Tremendous. Thrilled. Couldn’t be more excited. Really.”
“Are all those dates agreeable to you?”
“Whatever you want, Your Excellency. Are we done here?” He didn’t wait for my agreement. He plucked the microphone off his shirt and tossed it on the table. “C’mon, Charlotte.”
The dog sat up so quickly that she knocked her huge head into the table, which went flying. Then when she stood, she tipped into a camera tripod. I gasped, but Archer, moving like silk, caught it and set it up again. It turned out to be facing him by chance, so I got a surprised close-up of a handsome man midgrowl. That would definitely make it onto the final video—that and the huge dog tracking him like a witch’s familiar. A really, really huge familiar.
“See you in New York,” I called out cheerily because I knew it would annoy him.
He was dreadful. Rude, arrogant, blindingly handsome. This series was going to own the internet—and my tell-all was going to hit number one on the best-seller list.
I just knew it.