A Heart to Trust

by A. L. Brooks

  Today’s meeting hadn’t exactly allayed all her fears. Although her first impressions of the two TC Productions staff had given her a glimmer of hope. Maxwell hadn’t strung two words together, and Jenny had looked as far from professional as Olivia thought possible. She had green hair, for God’s sake. Who did she think she was, a pop star? And either she was ill or hungover, because she’d looked dreadful. She’d slouched in her chair, her eyes puffy, with a perpetual frown on her face. It wouldn’t pay to be overconfident, or smug, but Olivia had to admit, leaving that room, she’d had the impression a permanent job was within reach.

  She and Barnaby reached the front entrance of the apartment building.

  Marcus, the night doorman, held open the door for them. “Hey, Barnaby!” He knelt and patted the dog’s head.

  Barnaby immediately sat, then leaned into the touch, his long tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

  “Big walk today, man?” Marcus scratched behind Barnaby’s ears.

  “Just to the park and back,” Olivia said. “He’s not up to much more these days, the poor thing.”

  Marcus stood. “Ah, that’s a shame. But hey, least he’s still here.”

  “Exactly. I know how much it means to Mr. Cousins to have him around.”

  “How’s the old guy doin’?”

  Olivia waggled her free hand back and forth.

  Marcus nodded. “I hear ya. Well, you have a good evenin’, Mrs. Sinclair.”

  “I will. Thank you, Marcus.”

  “G’night, Barnaby,” Marcus called after them as they made their way to the elevators.

  After dropping Barnaby off at Mr. Cousins’s apartment on the eighth floor, Olivia took the elevator up to the top floor and let herself into the apartment she shared with Broderick. She went to her room and grabbed a summer sweater from the closet, then made her way to the kitchen. She’d just poured herself a glass of white wine when the front door opened.

  “Hey, wife!” Broderick called. “I’m home.”

  She leaned against the kitchen doorway. “Aren’t you bored of calling me that?”

  Broderick threw her one of his impish smiles, his brown eyes sparkling. “Not yet.”

  “It’s been well over a year.”

  He walked over and dropped a small kiss on the top of her head. “Does it genuinely bother you?”

  She sighed. “No, I suppose not.” She took a sip of her wine, then pointed to the glass. “Want one of your own?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You seem awfully chirpy,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the refrigerator. “I take it the meeting with Dewbury’s went well?”

  “It did!” Broderick strode into the kitchen behind her and leaned against the breakfast bar while she poured his drink. “They love me. And you. That photo spread in Motor Racing World knocked their socks off.”

  Olivia snorted as she handed Broderick his glass. “I’m sure.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe they’ve fallen for it all.”

  Broderick shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they? We’ve presented a very convincing front to them from the get-go. None of them would suspect our sordid secret: the big lesbian and the ace/aro man in a fake marriage that would shock the nation if the truth ever came out.” He feigned a swoon, and she had to laugh.

  “All right, all right. Yes, I know, we’ve sold it well. As long as it doesn’t backfire on us.”

  Broderick’s expression turned serious. “It won’t. And even if it does, it’s my head on the block, not yours.” He rubbed at the back of his head, messing up his thick brown hair.

  “Which doesn’t actually make me feel any better.” Olivia leaned across to smooth his wild locks. “We did all of this so you could get a big, fat sponsorship deal and finally get your motor-racing career off the ground. You lose all that if they ever find out.”

  “But we only have another six months or so to go. That’s all.” He took her hand. “The first seventeen months have flown by, haven’t they? Pushing on for six more is totally achievable. Dewbury’s even talked today about extending the deal already. Peters seems to think they’ll be ready to sign in three months or less. Then I’ll be safe, and we can start the divorce and go back to being what we always were.”

  She willed herself to relax. He was right. They’d faked it so well for this long, six more months should be easy. She was focused on finding her ideal job and a whole new start in the country of her birth, and that task would easily fill the time. Especially after the events of the last twenty-four hours. “You’re right.” She exhaled slowly and took another mouthful of her wine.

  “Okay, enough of all that. How was your day?” He startled. “Wait, crap, how could I forget—you had the big meeting today!”

  The scowl twisted her mouth before she could stop it. “Ugh, yes.” She filled him in on what Derek had said and the people from TC she’d met.

  “You all have to compete against each other? How ridiculous.”

  “I know. But what choice do I have? If I argue too strongly, Derek might decide it’s easier to terminate my contract right now.”

  “I guess. How did Chrissy take it?”

  Olivia snorted. “Like the good Girl Scout she is. Practically fell over her own tongue extolling the virtues of Derek’s plan.”

  “Ugh.” Broderick drank some of his wine. “Are things any better between you two?”

  “Not much.” She cringed when Broderick gave her that look, the one that said, “Are you even trying?”

  Chrissy had also been employed a few months ago—two weeks before Olivia, in fact. She was friendly, outgoing, and good at her job. Her personality grated on Olivia’s nerves, but she didn’t come to work to make friends. She’d made that mistake in the past and wouldn’t repeat it, not given how it turned out last time; Sally’s betrayal still cut deep. No, as long as her fellow workers could get the job done and leave her alone to do hers, that was good enough for Olivia. “Don’t give me that look.” She glared at him. “She’s so…much.”

  He laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Play nice! I know it’s hard for you, and I know why. But I’ve known you a long time, and I know there used to be a version of you that liked people and got on with them. I think she’s still in there somewhere,” he said, wagging a finger in her direction, “and it might help you in the next few months if you resurrected her. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He shook his head. “All right. Let’s change the subject.” He grimaced. “Don’t shout, but we’ve been summoned this weekend. Lunch tomorrow at Mom’s.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Sorry, but I am.”

  Olivia ground her teeth. “Well, I suppose we’ve managed to get away with it for a few weeks.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Just us?”

  “No, thank God. Philip and Mallory will be there too.”

  That helped. Mallory and Olivia tolerated each other, and neither particularly wanted to spend time with their husbands’ mother. Katherine Sinclair was always easier to face with an ally at your side.

  “Well, that’s something.” Olivia took another sip of her wine.

  “Sorry.” Broderick met her gaze. “I know this is the hardest part and—”

  Olivia held up a hand. “It is, but this is all part of the deal, and I’m okay with that.” Mostly. It pained her, every time she saw Katherine, that they were living a lie that brought Katherine such happiness. Olivia remembered the joy on Katherine’s face when Broderick had announced to his mom that he and his longtime friend from university had realized they were in love and were to be married. Katherine had always treated Olivia as an extension of the family, and calling her “daughter-in-law” was the icing on the cake.

  He took her hand once more. “Then I’ll just say thank you ag
ain instead of sorry.”

  Olivia squeezed his hand. “And how many times have I told you that’s not necessary? We both gain from this. Now, when’s the next race?”

  His face lit up, making him appear much younger than his thirty-one years. “The end of the month. But the team and I head out to Virginia two weeks prior to that.”

  “That’s right. I knew there was a reason I would have some time to myself this month.”

  Broderick chuckled. “No partying and trashing the place while I’m gone.”

  Olivia tutted. “Hardly my style.”

  “True.” He frowned. “You would say if you wanted to, you know, spread your wings a little?”

  “Spread my wings?” Olivia tilted her head. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Broderick blushed.

  Olivia’s eyes widened in realization. “No! There’s no need for any of that in the next few months. Trust me, what we have is perfect for both of us. I don’t intend to make it any more complicated.” She shuddered at the thought.

  He grinned ruefully. “And at least we’d only have to worry about you on that score.”

  She gave him an affectionate smile. “Yes, that’s true.” Their earlier conversation jumped back into her mind. “Oh God, we’re going to have to battle your mother again about children, aren’t we?”

  Broderick groaned and rolled his head back, puffing out as he did so.

  Chapter 4

  As Jenny pushed open the door to Limelight at just after seven on Friday evening, the gay-friendly yet trashy cocktail bar she and Carl had stumbled across the year before, she was relieved to meet a relatively quiet room. The last thing she could have handled tonight was Limelight in full swing. As it was, it had been a struggle to get herself here when all she wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed, and sleep away the next year or so.

  This was Carl’s big celebration, however, and no matter what pain she was in, she wouldn’t let him down. She found him, Roz, and Tamara at their favorite table near the bar, far away from the music system’s speakers.

  “Jenny!” Carl leaped out of his seat and threw his arms wide for a hug. He was about eight inches taller, so her head smashed into his firm, shirted chest as he squeezed her tight, rocking her from side to side.

  “How long have you been here?” Jenny stared up at him.

  Carl was clearly already drunk, yet the evening was still young. He laughed and held her at arm’s length. “An hour. Or is it two?” He pressed a finger to his chin, deep in thought, then pouted. “Where have you been?” He guffawed when she tutted at his pathetic display.

  She poked him in the ribs and pushed past him, then walked into Tamara’s arms.

  “Hey, you,” Tamara whispered as they held each other tight. “What’s up?”

  Somehow Tamara always knew. “I’ll tell you all a little later. Let’s celebrate first.”

  Tamara gave her a quick squeeze before releasing her. She looked as sharp as ever in a well-cut, light-gray pantsuit with a baby-blue shirt underneath. The color was a classic win for Tamara, with her brown skin and black, wavy hair. The jacket of her suit was draped over the back of her chair, as was normal once she’d left her work at the bank. Her usual drink of choice, a light beer, sat to her left.

  To her right was her partner of nearly ten years, Roz, who stood and also hugged Jenny tightly. “Baby girl!”

  Jenny snorted. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

  “Probably not.” Roz sat and grabbed her mojito. She took a long pull through the straw, then let out a satisfied sigh. She too was all dressed up. But unlike Tamara, this wasn’t regular wear for Roz, who spent most of her days in painting overalls and a floppy cap. The sleeveless dress was close-fitting, the bright green amazing against her pale skin. Her blonde hair sat higher on her shoulders than Jenny remembered from three weeks ago, and it suited her.

  “Come on, Jenny, you need to catch up.” Carl grabbed her hand and pulled her into a seat as he motioned for the waiter with his other hand. The double action nearly had him falling on his ass, and Jenny acted fast to steady him.

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to catch up with you.” She smirked, her spirits lifted by being surrounded by her friends again. “But I would like a drink.”

  Tomasz, who normally worked the evening shifts, approached their table. “Hi, Jenny,” he said in his soft voice. “What can I get you tonight?”

  Normally she’d start with something light, to ease her way into things, but this was no normal night. “You know what, I think I’ll take a margarita.” The extra punch of the tequila would hopefully have the numbing effect she sought.

  Carl ordered himself another gin and tonic; Jenny, Roz, and Tamara exchanged eye rolls.

  “Don’t worry.” Tamara leaned into Jenny. “We’ll help you get him home later.”

  Jenny squeezed her arm, then summoned up a beaming smile and turned to the man himself. “So, Mr. ‘I got a contract to supply my jewelry to Bloomingdale’s’, how cool are you?”

  Carl grinned and shook his head, way more sober than he had been a few minutes ago. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Aw.” Jenny slung one arm around his wide shoulders. “Look at you, all humble. For once.”

  Roz snorted while Carl glared.

  “Come on, I’m only teasing. I’m proud of you.” Jenny squeezed his shoulders.

  He ducked his head. “I’m kind of proud of myself.”

  As Jenny looked at him, all her own worries disappeared for a moment, and warmth flooded her.

  Carl had been busting his ass for years to get this kind of break, and she couldn’t have been happier for him. His jewelry—stainless-steel pieces for men that didn’t always conform to the expected chunky, masculine shapes and styles—had gradually won him plaudits in the fashion press over the last couple of years. Getting his items into Bloomingdale’s should rocket his reputation skywards.

  “You’ve come a long way from that disgusting little studio back in Pittsburgh.” She laughed when he mock-vomited.

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.” Tamara shuddered.

  Roz held up her hands. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. We had some good times there, didn’t we?”

  Carl’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh God, remember the day of the rats?”

  “No!” Tamara’s eyes were wide as she shoved her chair far away from the table. “No, no, no, we are not reliving that story!” She slapped her hands over her ears. “Can’t hear you, la la la.”

  Jenny and the others shook with mirth, Tamara still la-la-laing until Roz took pity on her and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. Whatever she said in Tamara’s ear got her to drop her hands, then kiss her in a way that made Jenny rush to look away.

  “You’re so cute. Always getting all flustered whenever those two give us a little show.” Carl gestured in Roz and Tamara’s direction.

  The heat on her cheeks intensified, and she growled. “Whatever.”

  He squeezed her arm. “So, how was work this week?”

  Everything about the last two days crashed back down. Jenny picked up her drink, downed the rest of it in one long swallow, then looked around for Tomasz.

  “Jenny?” Carl’s concern made her throat tighten.

  After making sure Tomasz had seen her signal for another margarita, she took her time turning back to Carl. When she did, three frowning faces looked at her.

  Resting her chin in her palms, elbows on the table, Jenny exhaled loudly. “I don’t want to burst your bubble.” She looked at Carl. “But we found out yesterday that TC has been sold to a bigger company and they took over first thing today.”

  “What?”

  “No!”

  “Holy shit!”

  Now she looked at three faces with their mouths wide open.

  “And t
he worst of it is, my job’s not guaranteed.” She filled them in on what Derek had said in the meeting.

  “So, you’re in some playoff for a job?” Roz frowned. “How fucking cruel is that?”

  “I know.” Jenny rubbed her face, not sure if she wanted to cry or just lay her head on the table.

  Carl pressed closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”

  In the next moment, Roz and Tamara were there too, enveloping her in a group hug that helped ease some of the pain.

  “Thanks, guys.” She let their warmth wash through her.

  A margarita was placed on the table before her, and before she could thank him, Tomasz walked away. He would get a larger tip than usual for that sensitivity.

  She wriggled out of the hug and motioned everyone back to their seats. “Come on, let’s drink. I can worry about all that crap tomorrow. Tonight, we’re celebrating Bloomingdale’s signing one of New York’s hottest talents.” She tipped her head toward Carl, then raised her drink. “To our star!”

  Roz and Tamara repeated the toast, and they all clinked glasses with a beaming Carl.

  The second margarita, finished at lightning speed, definitely helped with that numbness Jenny had been looking for.

  The third and fourth were even more successful.

  Chapter 5

  At lunchtime the next day, Olivia and Broderick took a cab to Katherine’s apartment. Olivia was less amenable to the visit than she normally would be—her night had been spent tossing and turning from one strange dream to another. She knew why, of course: the bloody job situation. It pained her that she’d gone from working as something akin to a production manager in some fairly large theaters back in the UK, to a lowly TV production assistant here in the US. Despite her best efforts since arriving to find work on Broadway, she’d got nowhere, even with her small amount of London theater experience.