Chapter 7 #3
Relatable. Approachable. Like the best friend from childhood you ran into twenty years later and still got along with. It was her thing, apparently. Probably one of the reasons why she had hundreds of thousands of followers, and I’d never heard a bad word about her.
Everyone loved Allegra Amato—and I was starting to see why.
“Oh no.” I waved their expectant looks off. “Not bad at all. Just don’t feel like talking about it after hours.” With a pointed look at Elliot, I tried to underline the statement. There was no need for Allegra to know the real reason for my secrecy.
And you gotta love an extrovert, because Allegra didn’t let the man get a word in. It’s probably the only reason he didn’t argue.
A few minutes later, her monologue was only briefly interrupted when Elliot needed clarification on a name or place or time. I added engaged listener to the list of things I hadn’t known about him. Maybe that was merely reserved for her, though.
It wasn’t hard to imagine them as a couple.
Allegra laughed at his bad jokes, and Elliot listened and cared and looked at her in that way.
Twenty minutes later, it seemed like they’d forgotten about me altogether, lost in their own bubble of inside jokes and gossip about people whose names I didn’t recognize.
Forget amicable, it almost seemed like they hadn’t broken up at all.
The press was known to get things wrong, and maybe they’d just never cared to correct them. Maybe they had broken up, but the split had been so amicable, they’d gotten back together. Many of those maybes floated around the table as I watched them.
Drinks flowed as easily as their conversation.
As expected, Allegra’s presence was helping.
They were well into their fourth drink, while I’d managed to pace myself.
It was easier because no one was paying attention to me.
Sure, Elliot’s eyes flicked in my direction every now and then, as if to check if I was still there, but he said nothing.
Just kept on listening, commenting, drinking.
I was sure when Hunter Ashwood had told his grandson to get his act together, he didn’t mean Get drunk on a random Monday. He didn’t mean Go clubbing with your ex-girlfriend either.
I rolled my plan into motion. “As a New York amateur,” I jumped in, before Allegra could open another topic. “What’s the best place for a night out?”
“Oh, you’ve come to the right people!” Allegra wasn’t quite sober anymore either. Her smile, while still perfect, was a little wonky. Dilated pupils, red cheeks. “Avenue on Mon—” She cut herself off with another gasp, almost squealed in realization: “It is Monday! We have to go!”
The invitation wasn’t for me, but Elliot must not have had enough to drink yet because he immediately shook his head.
He was supposed to be enthusiastic about the idea, then get photographed entering or leaving the place, preferably in a compromising position.
With a random girl or so drunk he could barely walk.
Then be late to work the next day.
“We’ve got work tomorrow, Allegra. We can’t just—” But he didn’t sound sure.
His we was just as unexpected. Clearly, she’d asked him to go, not us. And yet his eyes flicked to mine again like he was asking, silently, Should we?
No, but he should. I shrugged in the most noncommittal way I could.
The plan had been for me to jump in at this point of the conversation. To convince and push and make him think, Fuck it. But Allegra did all the work for me. Talked and talked, smiled sweetly, played with her hair and batted her eyes until he finally gave in.
I should’ve been ecstatic about it; she was making this thing a whole lot easier for me. I wasn’t, though.
Elliot turned to me, an almost hopeful look on his face right as I lied, “Ugh, I wish I could go.”
But I wasn’t quite sure if it was still a lie, or if Allegra’s presence had changed something. Because she seemed cool and I think we could actually be friends. Not because she was his ex.
“You’re not coming?” The barely there tilt of her lips was sheer politeness. Or maybe a silent Thank God that slipped past her mask of good manners at the prospect of some alone time with Elliot.
Okay, maybe we wouldn’t be good friends, then.
“It’s late.” I sighed theatrically.
Allegra was completely oblivious to the suspicion sneaking onto his face, but I noticed his brows creasing, eyes getting smaller. “You asked,” he noted.
“For nightlife tips. So that I can maybe, one day, utilize them on the weekend.” I shook my head in apology and regret and a serious case of fake FOMO. “Next time, though?”
There was no way for Elliot to backtrack now. He’d agreed to go, so all he could do was watch me leave.
By then, Allegra was at the bar ordering shots, laughing with the bartender who’d gotten her another drink, while Elliot, eyes still on me, spoke into his phone. All it did was remind me of mine, and as the elevator doors closed between us, I sent off an anonymous tip to The New York Goss.
Elliot Ashwood and Allegra Amato at Avenue in NYC tonight.