Chapter 8 New York, New York #4
Beside her, Emily began to bounce. “Hey, I know you!”
A genuine smile creased Noah’s face. “Emily, hi,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Noah,” said Emily. “Noah and the puppies.”
“That’s right,” said Noah. He looked from AJ to Emily back to AJ. “I was on my way to the diner, and I saw you two come in here. Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” said Emily, immediately.
“Okay, great,” said Noah. He glanced at AJ. “You?”
AJ shuffled in place. She didn’t know what to say. Absolutely not, came to mind. But he was looking at her in that Noah way, and of course AJ wanted to go.
“You know your mood swings are kind of giving me whiplash,” she muttered.
Noah stared at her incredulously. “Did you just quote Twilight at me?”
AJ couldn’t hide her delight. “Did you just recognize a quote from Twilight?”
“I read for Edward Cullen, back in the day,” said Noah stoutly. “Sadly, I had to stand aside…”
“And you wonder why you haven’t won an Oscar,” said AJ.
Noah grinned.
They sat on spinning stools at the counter at Rob’s Country Diner, AJ between Noah and Emily.
Burgers and fries were an easy call; when Noah put in for a beer, AJ very deliberately seconded Emily’s order for a milkshake.
As they ate, Noah confirmed that he was in town for Easter.
From there, he would be heading back to the U.K. to wrap up a shoot.
“We’ve got about a month left on location,” he said.
“What’s the project?” AJ asked, struggling to coax ketchup from a glass bottle.
Noah took the bottle from her. “It’s a surprise.” He gave the bottle one shake and handed it back to AJ. Annoyingly, it now produced a dollop of ketchup on her plate.
“That’s nice of you to come home for Easter,” said AJ conversationally.
Noah shrugged. “It’s a big house,” he said. “And the holidays are quiet as it is.”
Their gazes connected, and AJ was prepared to bet he was also recalling their conversation at Em Tyner’s Thanksgiving.
This whole day felt like a hallucination.
That morning, she’d never expected to see him again, and now she was listening to Noah ask Emily about her job at Big Y.
“Emily, are you selling Peeps to nice people?”
Emily grinned at him mischievously. “Maybe.”
There was a pinball machine in the corner of the diner; once they finished eating, AJ got change so Emily could play. As she monitored her sister in the bar mirror, AJ noticed a group of her mother’s colleagues hawkishly staring at them. She waved, then turned to Noah.
“Congrats,” she said, catching his eye. “You’re officially famous enough that the teachers at Gladstone Elementary have heard of you.”
Noah smirked. “That’s not because I’m famous,” he said, amused. “That’s because they’re wondering what you’re doing out with a known troublemaker.”
AJ smiled because he was probably right, and he smiled back. Her heart rate climbed.
Should she mention SNL?
The way he was looking at her now, so unguarded—AJ wanted to deserve that again. She cleared her throat. “Do you remember that time we watched ‘Fire his mouth sloped down slightly on the left, making his face appear longer from this angle. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s brutal.”
“It’s devastating,” said Noah, turning toward her. “Does he have kids?”
AJ told him about Patrick’s family, about the emotional strain on Elle and on their parents; Noah’s head inclined in absorption, his eyes bright. As he listened, AJ felt an old certainty lap her anxiety: that nothing she could tell him would be wrong or unwelcome.
More than that—she felt warmth. It was crude, and it was simple, but it was coming from him, and it told her that some form of their bond had survived.
“Time has lost all meaning,” she was saying. “It feels like this happened three days ago, but when I look up it’s already April. The weeks just keep stacking up.”
Noah nodded slowly. “And so do the bills, right?”
A sickening hotness swept over AJ. She hadn’t been consciously thinking about the conversation she had overheard that morning, but she’d inadvertently led them to it. Now it all came flooding back—the number, the panic, the sinking stone of an unsolvable problem.
“We’ve got it covered,” she mumbled.
“I’m sure you do,” said Noah. Something in his tone immediately got under her skin.
“We do,” she said.
“I know,” said Noah. “And if for whatever reason you end up needing help—”
“We don’t need help,” said AJ, heat rising to her face. “I have a plan.”
“Oh yeah?” said Noah, eyes glinting.
It was as if Noah questioning her produced the answer, as if a lifetime of jumping into scenes with him had conditioned her brain to expand at his suggestion. AJ met his eyes with resolve as her next step illuminated with stark clarity.
“I’m doing the cons,” she announced, to herself as well as to him. “This summer.”
Noah’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Didn’t you say you would rather die—”
“They pay well,” said AJ. “And if I’m there, they’ll pay even better. Apparently the more cast members, the higher the fees. Dave made two hundred grand last year. I’m not going to pass that up just because it looks stupid.”
The slightest tinge of color crept into Noah’s cheeks, and AJ grabbed a fry off his plate, feeling weirdly exhilarated. Maybe it was getting to throw his words back in his face, or maybe it was realizing that, despite the horrors of Patrick’s predicament, they weren’t out of moves yet.
Noah was reading their bill now, brow furrowed as if he were skimming over a new scene. His expression was so familiar, AJ’s heart stuttered.
She could not watch another person she loved be struck down.
“Well, it’s interesting you say that,” said Noah grimly. “Because as it turns out, I’m also doing ‘the cons’ this summer.”
AJ’s mouth fell open. “You are not.”
Noah nodded, tucking the bill and four twenties under the napkin dispenser. “Yup,” he said. “My publicist thinks it will be good for my image—help me connect to a more grassroots audience.”
“Your publicist thinks hanging out in a showroom full of Trekkies will be good for your image?”
“Apparently some people think I’m pretentious and out of touch, can you believe it?”
Now it was AJ’s turn to blush. “Since when do you care what people think?”
Noah shrugged. “Since I gave up Edward Cullen and thus my best shot at an Academy Award.”
He said it lightly, but AJ detected a faint edge in his voice. She didn’t know the first thing about the backroom dealings of Hollywood, but she did know the Oscars were political. Noah had been snubbed last year. Maybe he really did need to go out and kiss babies in order to win.
She grimaced. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”
Noah gave her an incalculable look. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this, it’s good for you. The more cast members, the higher the fees, right?”
“Right,” said AJ.
“Noah!” Emily called from the pinball machine. Noah ate two more fries then put his hand on AJ’s shoulder as he got to his feet.
“It’ll be fun,” he said.
AJ watched in awe as he crossed the room to Emily. He bent his head toward her attentively and asked to have a turn on the machine. When Emily smiled up at him, it beamed out of her.