Leaning against the doorway, I thumbed through the handful of manuscripts already received this morning, knowing that we’d have at least double that by the conclusion of the convention. If Phineas was trying to turn a boutique publishing company into an empire, he was doing a damn fine job of it. Who knows, maybe we would have room for blondie, after all. A sudden round of applause beckoned my attention back to the stage, where Phineas was wrapping up his speech. Classic Phineas, he gave the eager crowd a smile and a wave with his usual formal showing of gratitude and prepared to exit the stage, but not before he made it a point to look in my direction, flashing a smile that extended from ear to ear. His enthusiasm was enough to summon some of my own, and I gave him a thumbs-up as he walked behind the curtain.
As predicted, our table was quite popular the rest of the morning, so much so that we quickly ran out of most of our marketing materials.
“Excuse me.” A cute, young woman with a cherubic face, who was—holy shit—shorter than me, approached our table. “Is this Mr. Drake’s firm?”
“It is,” I greeted her. “Is there something I can do to assist you?”
“Um … my manuscript. I was going to take it over to Cruz & Vanderbilt, but then I heard Mr. Drake’s speech and found him to be so …”
“Accomplished? Enlightening? Passionate?”
“Oh, yes, all of that.” She leaned in closer to me and lowered her voice. “And he’s super handsome.”
“Yes, because one’s attractiveness should be the basis upon which we make all of our important life decisions.”
“What do we have here?”
The hopeful author’s eyes grew wider upon Phineas’s arrival at our table. “M-My manuscript, Mr. Drake. I’m Jessica. Jessica Lawson.”
“Nice to meet you, Jessica. Let’s have a look.” He took the document from the young woman and flipped through the pages, pausing every now and then to read a passage.
“I really enjoyed your speech today,” Jessica continued, admiration written all over her face. “I’ve been writing for a couple of years now. Your words were quite encouraging.”
Phineas smiled, and I swore I could see her heart melting right in front of my eyes. “Well, that’s certainly wonderful to hear. I always strive to provide encouragement wherever I can. It’s such a competitive dog-eat-dog world out there, and it’s easy for people with natural talent to get discouraged when there’s nothing but drivel hitting the market.”
“My thoughts exactly, Mr. Drake.”
I looked between Phineas and Jessica Lawson and back again, holding out my hand to accept the manuscript.
“Mena here will be reviewing your work. She’s my lead editor and has a true eye for talent. I wouldn’t be where I am right now without her. If you would, please leave your information with her before you leave.”
Still as smitten as ever, Jessica wrote her information down on one of the contact information cards we had available at our table and handed it to me without even a glance in my direction.
“I look forward to hearing Mena’s thoughts on your work, Ms. Lawson,” Phineas said as she was getting ready to depart.
“Thank you, Mr. Drake. It was a pleasure.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, too,” I called out behind her, but by that point she was too starstruck to even hear anything other than whatever fantasy was playing itself out inside of her head.
I turned to Phineas, who was already starting to clear the rest of the materials from our table. “Do you have that effect on everyone you meet?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pretty certain Jessica Lawson would have given you one of her kidneys if you would have asked her for it. Probably both of them, if you bought her dinner.”
“And she may have to do that to pay rent one of these days, unless she plans on having a day job outside of writing.”
“That bad, huh?”
He shrugged. “From what little I was able to read, she shows some talent. Not up to our standards. Maybe after some years under her belt she will be, but I’ll let you go through it and you can tell me know what you think. Just don’t make it your top priority.”
I grabbed a Banker’s box and began loading it with the rest of the pamphlets, literature, business cards, and other materials left on our table.
“You know, I really appreciate you taking part of your weekend to help me out here.” Phineas closed the box he’d packed and set it down on the floor. “Why don’t we take this stuff back to the office and I’ll buy you lunch to show you my appreciation?”
“That sounds great, but my boyfriend is in from Virginia, and with the way he and my roommate are when he visits, I’m not entirely convinced they won’t burn the apartment down without my intervention.”
“Oh, this weekend was his monthly visit? Now I really feel like a total jerk.”
“You should.”
Any shock permeating his face quickly vanished, replaced by a half smile that Jessica Lawson would have lost her fucking mind to have been on the receiving end of. Grabbing the collapsible dolly from underneath the table, he unfolded it. “Why don’t you call him and invite him along?”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Peter can be a little … brash.”
“Imagine that,” he snorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Phineas loaded the boxes onto the dolly and proceeded to grab one end of the royal blue cloth we used to cover the table—Drake Publishing’s signature color. Following his lead, I grabbed the other end and, together, we went about folding it. “Only that anyone with you is going to have to be quick on their feet. It’s not a bad thing; really thins the herd. Animals tend to weed out their weakest links. Bison, sharks, polar bears, even donkeys do it.”
“Then consider Peter a true jackass.”
*****
I smiled as I caught sight of Peter Monroe uncomfortably entering the trendy, bougie bistro Phineas had chosen for lunch. He was dressed in his usual attire—a flannel shirt over a short-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned with the name of a band of some sort. Today that band was Weezer. I could sense his discomfort even before he arrived at our table. This wasn’t really his scene. To be honest, it really wasn’t mine, either. Phineas had insisted on it, stating that they had the best cassoulet in the city—whatever the hell that was. Peter spotted me and smiled, but his grin was only momentary when he took in the sight of me in my blazer and Phineas, who was dressed to the nines as always.
“Hey,” I greeted him, standing up and giving him a hug. “You’re still in one piece, which means things with Jo must not have gotten too out of hand while I was gone.”
“Nah, Jo only managed to set off the smoke alarm once this time while she was frying eggs for breakfast. It was touch and go for a second, though, because this time there were actual flames involved.”
I turned to Phineas. “And you thought I was kidding.”
“It was more I’d hoped you were kidding.” Phineas stood up and extended his hand out to Peter. “You must be Peter. I’m Phineas Drake.”
Peter took Phineas’s hand. “It-It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he uncharacteristically stammered.
“I’d like to apologize to you for asking Mena to work on a weekend. I hadn’t realized you would be in town today, and I know the two of you don’t see each other very often.”
“That’s not a problem. She’ll make it up to me the next time she’s in town.” I raised my eyebrow at him. “What? I just won’t do laundry for the week prior to your visit. Consider us even, then.”
I smacked him in the arm, playfully, just as the waitress came by to take our drink orders.
“Mena has told me a lot about you. She’s quite vociferous when it comes to your weekends together. It seems like the two of you really know how to have a good time no matter where you are.”
Peter nodded. “Mena manages to make things interesting, for sure.” He glanc
ed at me, a smile tugging at his lips.
“That she certainly does,” Phineas added.
Our waiter came to take our order. Phineas’s eyes sparkled with approval when I chose to take his suggestion and ordered the cassoulet. Peter even took a walk on the wild side, for him, anyway, and chose one of the bistro’s signature paninis.
“She must really have faith in you,” Peter said, handing his menu to our bow tie-clad waiter. “I can’t get her to try anything new.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” I muttered under my breath, barely loud enough for Peter to hear me. His cheeks flushed a bright red.
Phineas hadn’t seemed to hear anything as he reached for his phone. A persistent workaholic, he would just as soon cut off his left testicle than miss responding to an email.
“So,” I began to keep conversation flowing, “Phineas has become quite the local celebrity.”
He scoffed, “I wouldn’t necessarily say that.”
“Don’t be modest. The convention today was a solid success for the firm. You were by far the most popular speaker there. Not to mention, you’ll be hobnobbing with celebrities at the red carpet New York premiere of Soldiers of Atlantis in a few months.”
“And any success I owe to my very competent and able-bodied staff without whom I wouldn’t be able to function at nearly the same level I have been.” He gestured to me. “Mena’s something of a rising star at the office. She has a real eye for detail and can sniff out talent hidden under stacks upon stacks of rubbish. I predict a long and fruitful career with the firm, especially if we expand like I think we may be able to do next year.”
“Really? So, the expansion is a sure thing, then? Phineas, that’s wonderful.”
“It’s not a done deal yet. We’ll have to see how the next couple of months shake out.”
“This expansion, will it still be in New York?” Peter asked.
“Oh yes, of course. We’re in the middle of the action here. I couldn’t operate anywhere else or with anyone else.” Phineas smiled at me as he held up his glass of water and took a sip.
I sensed a tension in Peter so heavy that it made the air around him thick and hard to breathe.
“Peter, what do you do for a living?” Phineas asked, perhaps sensing the tension, too.
“Ah, well, I can’t say as I lead half the glamorous life as you do here. The only people I’m hobnobbing with are Chuck the set-up guy and Lori in finishing. Although, Chuck was on the local news once for packing away almost sixty hot dogs in ten minutes at our local hot dog eating contest. So, in a way, I get to work with celebrities, too.” Noticing that Phineas looked utterly confused, Peter backtracked. “I’m an assembly line worker at a plastics factory in Roanoke. It’s nothing exciting, but it pays my living expenses for now.”
“Until he goes back to school,” I added.
Peter caught my eye from out of the corner of his. “If I go back to school,” he corrected me.
“What is it that you want to study?”
“Engineering.”
“I know absolutely nothing about engineering, but I hear it’s a great field to get into. With any luck, you’ll be able to find your way back to college, if that’s what you want to do, of course.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Peter raised his glass at Phineas and took a sip of what I guessed he was wishing was something a little stronger than water.
“Peter’s an excellent father,” I added, placing my hand on his. “He’s devoted to Jackson, a very precocious little boy just like his father.”
“I thought you mentioned he had a son. You’re a single father, then? How very admirable. No wonder you haven’t made it back to school. I’m sure you’re busy enough as it is.”
“Yeah,” Peter answered him, “no wonder.”
The rest of our lunch proceeded in much the same way, with Phineas and me making all the conversation, and Peter piping in a comment or two only when necessary. This change in him—from quick-witted snark to tame-to-the-point-of-being-sedated—made me uneasy. Initially, I tried not to let it bother me, believing that he was just tired from the travel and the whirlwind schedule we usually kept on our weekends together. But it persisted, the near silence, and my discomfort continued to grow throughout the rest of the day.
“You’re a filthy cheater, is what you are,” Jo proclaimed, hitting the buttons on her controller so erratically I wouldn’t have been surprised if she broke it in two.
“It’s not my fault you didn’t use your banana peel wisely,” Peter answered, calmly sliding his go-kart across the checkered finish line.
“See if I save the last hard cider for you again.” Jo tossed the controller down on the floor next to the game console and flopped down on the couch next to me, where I was sketching from memory a cardinal I’d seen sitting in a tree on our walk home. Drawing was something of a stress reliever for me—always had been.
“For the last time,” Peter said, shutting the game down, “I didn’t do you dirty. That’s how the game is played.”
“All I’m going to say is, next time you’d better prepare yourself for a red turtle shell straight up your exhaust pipe,” Jo warned, taking a drink from her bottle of whatever beer had been on sale this week.
Peter took a seat on the cushion next to me. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I don’t need to know the details of your personal life.” Jo leaned over to peer at my notebook. “Wow, Mena’s good at doodling, but I guess I don’t have to tell you that.” She winked at Peter. “Seriously, though, she has that drawing thing down.”
Peter inched closer to me on the couch, placing his arms around my shoulders as he inspected my work.
“Whoa, babe, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your work before. I remember Elle saying something about your artwork while at Cogsworth, but I just figured you’d lost interest in it over the years.”
“Speaking of losing interest, it’s nice to see you’re speaking to me again.”
“On that note.” Jo got up from the couch and placed the empty bottle of beer on the counter. “I think that was my cue to go to bed. No boinking on the couch whenever you two kiss and make up,” she announced, pointing an accusatory finger between Peter and me.
“I assume you follow that rule when I’m out of town?”
Jo’s stare back at me was a bit too prolonged before she turned around to head into her bedroom. “Goodnight.”
Peter scanned the couch in disgust while I tossed my notebook on the coffee table.
“What is it?” he asked softly.
“You tell me.” The blank stare on his face told me that we could be here all night if I were to wait for a response from him. “Okay, I’ll go first. You’ve hardly said a word to me since lunch, and when you have spoken—to me, anyway—you’ve used nothing but one-syllable words and have done everything in your power to keep your answers as short as humanly possible. Listen, I know the fact that I had to work today wasn’t ideal, but—”
“I didn’t care that you had to work today … I mean, I did. I wasn’t upset by it, though.”
“Then what is it?”
He ran his hand through his thick hair. “Whenever you talked about Phineas, I would just naturally assume he was an older man in his sixties.”
“That’s exactly what Jo said. I hear the name is making a comeback. You know, like Edward, Gertrude, Elmer.”
“To be fair, I don’t think Elmer will ever be making a comeback.” I raised an eyebrow, silently requesting him to proceed. “When I saw Phineas, and noticed he was decidedly not in the realm of what I expected, and then I heard how he talked about you and how excited you seemed to be with the way things are going here, which I’m happy for you, Mena, I really am, I guess I allowed my insecurities to take over.”
“Peter Monroe, are you jealous?”
“You don’t have to look so smug about it.”
“I hadn’t realized my face was reacting to my thoughts.”
“It’s n
ot just a jealousy thing.” He caught my eye and relented. “Okay, it’s not entirely a jealousy thing.”
“Then what?”
“You have a life here.”
“You don’t say? And you have a life in Virginia.”
“I do, and until Jackson grows up, I will continue to have a life there. New York is great to visit …”
“You just don’t want to live here,” I finished his sentence. “Peter, I know. You haven’t exactly made a secret of it.”
“And then I hear about how well you’re doing here, and what great opportunities you have. Mena, I can’t compete with that.”
“I’m not asking you to compete with any of it. We’ll figure something out. Part of my job can be done offsite. Phineas and I will work something out.” I laid my hand on his thigh, capturing his attention. “I love you, Peter Monroe. When we decided to give us another go, I know we expected to have more of a plan in action by this point in our relationship, and we will. I promise you it will work out. Otherwise, The Beatles are a bunch of filthy liars.” He had a big, goofy grin on his face that was only briefly interrupted by confusion. “Because as The Beatles sang, All You Need Is Love.”
“So, you love me?”
“Yeah … yeah, don’t go getting a big head over it.” I ran my fingers over his chin stubble. “In all seriousness, you’re the first person outside of family I’ve ever said that to, so it’s kind of an honor if you think about it.”
“I love you, too, Mena Straszewski.” Goosebumps sprouted across my skin as he brushed his thumb across my jawline. “Thank you for putting up with my—”
“Man tantrum?”
“My concerns.”
“Well, then, thank you for putting up with me in general.”
“Always.”
He leaned in to kiss me, the weight of his body pushing me down onto the couch, his lips leaving mine to travel down my neck. “I love you,” he whispered when he neared my ear.
“I love you, Peter,” I moaned.
“For God’s sake, it’s only been ten minutes and you’re already fornicating on the furniture,” Jo scolded us as she reappeared from her bedroom on her way to the kitchen. “Kudos to you two for making up so quickly, but at least have the decency to put a towel down or something.”
When Stars Collide Page 9
