Chapter 9 #2
“Not now, Enid,” Preston says. “Can’t you see she’s trying to figure out how to use that darnn device?
” I look up to see an affronted look on her face.
I’m not really sure what Enid had been about to say, but I can tell that Preston wasn’t that excited about it.
There’s an odd dynamic between the two of them.
They’re obviously an old married couple, and they know each other well, but they don’t act like a couple desperately in love or the sort of people I would expect to want a book written about their love story.
But then again, what do I know? I’m not even in a relationship.
I finally find the record button and release a sigh of relief.
“Okay,” I say, pressing the button. “Day one interview with Enid and Preston Waverly.” I smile at them, and they smile back. Finally.
“Enid, let’s start with you. Can you tell me about how you and Preston met?”
“Well, I can clearly remember the day my life changed. It was one of those days where you wake up and think to yourself, what is the purpose of life—”
“Enid, this isn’t a philosophy book,” Preston interrupts and sits back in his chair. “This is a work of—” He pauses as Enid gives him a dirty look. He holds his hand up. “You know what? I’m not going to say anything.”
“Would you rather start, then, Preston?” she asks pointedly, and I shift uncomfortably, wondering if I should pause the recording.
“Sure. That way I can get my part done and do some work whilst you do your part.” Enid says nothing, but I watch as she crosses her arms and stares at her long fingernails.
“So, Preston, would you like to start and tell us about how you met?” I ask awkwardly.
“I certainly would. I remember I was at a party. It was held by one of my friends named Theodore Gillig. We had gone to college together at Harvard. His father was on Wall Street, and his uncle was an attorney who was hoping to be on the Supreme Court, and at that time, I thought that I might want to go to law school.”
“You think this is more interesting than me and my story? No one wants to hear about your days thinking about being an attorney.”
“No one wants to hear about you waking up in the morning and deciding what you want for breakfast.”
“Well, no one wants to hear about you at Harvard and your exploits with Theodore and Jeremiah.”
I press pause on the recording and speak up before this becomes some sort of elderly, posh catfight.
“I have an idea,” I say quickly. “What if I interview both of you separately, and then I can come up with discussion questions for you together? That way, neither one of you is interrupting the other.” I pause, hoping they’re not going to get mad at me, but they both stare at me, nodding slightly.
“I was thinking that maybe—” A sudden knock on the door makes me pause, and we all turn toward the entrance, where I see Amethyst standing there. Today, she’s wearing a floral dress and huge earrings that look like sunflowers. For once, I’m not upset by seeing her.
“Hi. I was just looking for Enid. My third eye told me you were in here,” she says. She looks over at me and beams. “Gina. Gina, you are looking like a queena.”
“Good morning, Amethyst,” I say, and she beams at me.
“Enid, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I don’t know if you remember that the writing group was getting here early and the meeting is about to start, and as you are our gracious leader, we could not start without you.”
Enid looks flustered. “Oh my. I absolutely forgot about the group.” She looks over at Preston. “Darling, do you mind?” She stands up and walks to the door before he can answer. I continue sitting there.
“I suppose I’ll interview Preston first,” I say to nobody in particular.
“Gina, are you coming?” Enid stops by the door, standing next to Amethyst.
“Sorry, what?” I look at her in surprise.
“Are you coming?”
“Oh, I was going to interview Preston first and then—”
“Let’s go to the writing group.”
I look over at Preston, who has already opened his laptop.
“I guess I’ll interview you later, sir.”
“Certainly, certainly,” he says, typing away.
I stand up and walk to the doorway. Amethyst and Enid start walking ahead of me down the hallway, and I follow them, slightly confused.
As they head into the living room, I see that there are only a few of the writing group members there.
“Do you mind if I grab a drink quickly before I join?” I call out.
Enid nods, and I turn back around and head to the kitchen, my heart racing as I see Hunter standing by the doorway, looking at me.
There’s an inquisitive expression on his face, and I just stare at him.
“You’re just going to look at me?” I say as I head into the kitchen, and he follows me.
“I was curious if everyone knows about you,” he says in his deep, throaty voice that makes me think of whiskey and sex.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, turning around to stare at him.
“Does everyone know that you’re a stalker?” He gives me a wicked grin.
“I’m not a stalker.”
“Then why are you here?”
“What do you mean, why am I here?”
“Why are you here is a simple question, is it not?”
“Huh? I thought you knew why I was here.” I frown.
“How would I know?”
“Well, why didn’t you ask me last night when we were in the kitchen if you didn’t know?”
“I suppose I felt like I was living in a dream, so I forgot. There you were, standing all sexy in that flimsy T-shirt, and all I could think was, had my fantasy come to life?”
“What do you mean, your fantasy?” I can feel my face growing bright red.
“I mean, a sexy woman in barely any clothes, standing in the kitchen, staring at me like I was a snack she wanted to nibble on.”
“I was not staring at you like you were a snack I wanted to nibble on.”
“Maybe I got that wrong then,” he says, laughing as he takes a step closer to me. “Maybe you were a snack I wanted to nibble on.
“Maybe I’m still hungry.” He licks his lips.
“Then get a sandwich or something.”
“But what if it’s not a sandwich that I want?”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“What if I want you?” I take a step backward and swallow hard. This is crazy. I blink rapidly, and he bursts out laughing.
“It’s really easy to get to you. You know that, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was talking about the fact that I can make your face redder than a fire engine with just a couple of words.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I just did, and I can do it again.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I’m just like you,” I say. “I work here.”
He stares at me for a couple of seconds, tilts his head to the side like he’s thinking, and nods slowly. “Sure thing, Gina.” Disbelief drips from his tone. “We are just the same, aren’t we?”
“No, we’re not.” I glare at him. “I’m fabulous, and you, well, you’re just a jackass.”
“Hey, but at least if the FBI were recruiting, I’d have a legitimate shot.” He looks at me and shakes his head. “Unlike you.” He bursts out laughing.
“You know what, Hunter? At least I’m original with the things I have to say. You? You’re just played out.”
I grab a glass, hurry to the faucet, turn the tap on, and drink furiously. I see that he’s just standing there watching me. “Don’t you have work to do? Thorns to prick you?”
“Thorns?”
“Yeah. From the rose bushes.” I want to tell him that he does appear to have a green thumb because the rose bushes look absolutely immaculate, but I’m not here to give him compliments. No, sirree. Not at all.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say, turning around, “I have work to do.” I stop at the doorway and glare at him. “And I think you have work to do, as well.”
He stands there for a couple of seconds and just shakes his head. “You are a funny one, Gina.”
“No, I just like to earn my living.”
“Then I guess it’s back to work I go, boss.” He salutes me. “Have a good day.”