I shrugged. I couldn’t keep up with Mia’s jet-setting schedule. She was constantly off to one exotic locale or another. One day she was shooting a commercial in LA, then the next she was walking down a runway in London. We had to take her when we could get her.
“Hey, hey, guys, pay attention. They’re about to put up the next question,” Jenna yelled.
I leaned in toward Alex. “What’s she talking about?”
“It’s this new thing they’re doing between innings to keep the crowd entertained. They ask a question, and you text your answer. Then a few minutes later, they display the most popular answers, and one lucky person who gave the top answer wins a prize.”
“Huh,” was all I could manage to say. Alex was leaning so close to me that I could smell the crisp, clean scent of his shampoo. It was affecting my brain, making my thoughts all fuzzy.
“Okay, everyone. The question is ‘What’s your favorite romantic movie?’”
A chorus of groans went up from the men.
“I’m not hanging around for this,” Miles said, standing. “Rick, you wanna go for another round?”
I looked at Alex, wondering if he’d want to join them, but he said, “I’m good.”
“Casablanca,” Jenna shouted out her answer.
“Oh, that’s a good one, but I prefer Gone with the Wind,” Angela said.
Christine pretended to gag. “I say Pretty Woman.”
“Dirty Dancing,” I said. That was met by a series of low whistles and at least one poorly delivered line about a corner.
“Avatar.”
Everyone became silent, staring at Kendra.
“What? To me, it’s romantic.” She crossed her arms and scowled.
“Alex, what’s yours?” I asked.
He scrunched up his nose and closed one eye as if trying to decide. “I’m going to have to go with Roman Holiday.”
“Oh, Audrey Hepburn. A classic. Good choice,” Jenna cooed as she texted in our answers from atop her boyfriend’s lap.
I wanted to smack her—and not just because she was flirting with Alex in front of her boyfriend.
A few seconds later, when the answers appeared on the board, it was Jenna’s turn to dance. “Woo-hoo! Casablanca at number one.”
“I hate that movie,” I muttered, not realizing I’d said it aloud until Alex turned to me.
“Seriously? Me too.”
“I’ve never met anyone who dislikes it before. They’re all”—I pitched my voice to a falsetto—“‘But he walked away because he loved her.’ Bullshit. If he loved her, they should have found a way to stay together.”
“Amen!” Alex clinked his plastic cup with mine. “I don’t like tragic endings—even with a well-written purpose. I’ve always felt that the hero should get the girl in the end. That’s the way film, if not life, should be.”
“And literature,” I added.
“I bet you hated Wuthering Heights.”
“Not as much as Tess of the d’Urbervilles.”
We both groaned. We carried on this way, happily discussing our favorite and most abhorred books—he loved The Road and hated Waiting for Godot, and we both agreed that The Great Gatsby was way overrated—oblivious to the ball game until Miles and Rick returned and doled out drinks.
“What did we miss?” Miles asked.
“Besides Jenna missing out on a trip to Cancun?”
Jenna scowled. “Some bitch named Carrie from Skokie won.”
“Top of the eighth, three to two, Cubs. Runners on first and second. Lamros is up,” Kendra answered, her attention focused totally on the game.
Craig Lamros was our newest recruit from the minors. He’d proven himself in the outfield but had yet to show any consistent hitting power. With two men already out, this could be his chance to shine.
We watched with great anticipation as he fouled the first pitch off into the stands. Strike one. The next was a wide curveball the umpire called as a ball. Lamros swung at and missed the next pitch. Strike two. The third pitch was a fastball, low and away, but Lamros managed to connect with it solidly and send the ball screaming into the stands for a three-run homer. The crowd went wild.
In our little suite, the roar was no less deafening as we all shot to our feet and cheered. Soon we were all hugging and tapping glasses. That was when I noticed Jenna was drinking water, which was unusual. Before I could process that observation, a familiar song spilled from the speakers, celebrating the home run by welcoming the fans to the city, followed by an expletive covered by a guitar riff.
“That’s a Kill Hannah song,” I yelled to Alex.
He bent down to be near my ear. “I know. I recognize it.”
“You listened to them? What do you think?”
“They aren’t traditional poets, but I can see where my students could identify with their lyrics. I’ll keep them in mind as I construct the course.”
My heart fell. I had really hoped Alex would understand the subtle beauty of their lyrics.
Even after our group had quieted down, Miles was in full-on victory mode. “Fly away little birdies. Go on home to roost on the Arch where you belong,” he sang a little drunkenly.
I raised an eyebrow at Rick, who nodded and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll get him home safely.”
I was about to thank him when the clock on the scoreboard caught my eye. “Oh geez! Is that the time? I have to meet Victor.” I shot to my feet, thanking everyone for a good time.
Alex touched my arm. “Are you sure you can’t stay till the end of the game?”
“I would love to, really, but I can’t. I promised Victor I’d be there.”
“No, I get it, the boyfriend takes precedence,” Alex said.
Oh, a hint of petulance. I couldn’t help relishing the idea that he might be just the slightest bit jealous. I removed his hand gently. “You got my afternoon. He gets my night. Sounds like a fair deal to me.”
I flew up the stairs to my apartment. In less than five minutes, I was out of my jeans and into a black cap-sleeved dress and had traded my tennis shoes for jeweled pumps. If I touched up my hair and makeup quickly and the taxi gods were with me, I’d have just enough time to be considered fashionably late.
Just my luck, traffic was horrible. As I walked the last five blocks to the gallery, I heard my fellow pedestrians complaining about a malfunction with one of the bridges. At least I’d have an excuse for not getting there on time.
Navigating on autopilot, I replayed my encounters with Victor since that night at Mockingbird, looking for some sign that he also thought our relationship was headed somewhere. We hadn’t had much time to see each other thanks to our crazy, and often conflicting, work schedules. We’d met for lunch a few times, and he’d accompanied me to a few of my work functions, but we still hadn’t been on a proper date. Now I was on my way to one of his art shows. Sometimes I wondered if we’d ever get a few minutes of alone time. I craved emotional and physical intimacy, and that was something we wouldn’t get until we could block out the rest of the world. He might be the one I could move on with. He might just erase the scars Nick had caused. A host of faeries danced in my abdomen at the thought.
When I was only a few buildings away from the gallery, music spilled out into the street as guests came and went. As I entered, I took in the white walls lit here and there by small spotlights that shone on canvases brightly splotched with paint or illuminated pedestals for his clay-and-glass sculptures. I still had a lot to learn about modern art, but I was willing to try for Victor.
Victor spotted me as I stepped past the reception table. He kissed me on the forehead, nearly singing, “Hello, beautiful.”
I hugged him briefly before he whisked me off to meet some of his friends, the owners of the gallery.
“Annabeth, I’d like you to meet Katrina and Peter. They’re the curators here and also work as buyers for a well-known auction house I’m not allowed to name.”
“Hello, Annabeth, so nice to meet you.” Katrina’s s
mile and grasp were warm, but the genuineness she sought to project never reached her eyes.
Peter, on the other hand, looked more like a basset hound than a man, with his droopy, bag-ringed eyes and loose jowls. He never let go of his drink but instead nodded in my direction. “A pleasure.”
“It really was kind of you to open up your gallery to Victor tonight,” I said.
Peter scoffed. “Oh, it was nothing. This boy has immense talent, and it’s time the whole city knows it.”
“The city? Darling, you think too small. We’re telling the world.” Over my head, Katrina saw someone she knew and gave a small finger wave. “If you’ll excuse me.” She brushed past us, then more quietly in my ear, she added, “This is a private collector from Japan I’ve been wooing for months. One sale to him could set your boy up for stardom.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly nervous for Victor.
“What was that all about?” Victor asked.
Not wanting to rattle his nerves, I told a white lie. “She was just telling me there are several pieces here I can’t miss.”
Victor’s face lit up. “There are. I want to show you a few of my favorites. Peter, please excuse us.”
“No worries, my boy, no worries.” Peter quickly returned his attention to his scotch.
Victor led me to the wall of bright paintings I had seen through the front window. In the sea of color, a somber black-and-white triptych commanded attention. On each canvas, Victor had painted a recently extinguished candle, its wick still a burning ember, the smoke lazily forming something akin to an ink blot test. The first time I glanced at it, all I saw was swirling white paint; the second time, the smoke resolved itself into the profile of a ballet dancer en pointe. Next to it was a similar piece, only this one was a couple dancing the tango. The final piece in the triptych was a couple—depending on how you looked at it, it could have been a man and a woman, a man with another man, or two women—in a passionate embrace.
“This is the one I wanted you to see.” He pointed below the black to a colorful portrait of a woman in profile.
She was gazing slightly downward as if deep in thought, her flowing hair a mass of swirling color around her face. It tumbled like a rainbow waterfall over her shoulders to the top of her white gown, where the canvas ended.
I looked at the plaque beneath it. “‘Annabeth’s Essence.’” I gazed at Victor in wonder. “You painted me?”
He nodded, barely able to contain his excitement. “The night we met. Right after the party, I went to my studio, flooded the place with light, and started working. There was something about you. I just had to capture your spirit. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met—shy yet fun, brilliant and sweet but with this unexpected wild streak. Your little dance made quite the impression on me.”
I leaned toward him, up on my tiptoes so my lips nearly brushed his. “Oh, it did, did it? Well, there’s more where that came from.” I leaned in to kiss him.
“I look forward to it,” he purred, then our lips met. When he finally pulled away, he reluctantly scanned the crowd. “I should probably get back to circulating the room. Drinks after the showing?”
“Sure. I’ll mingle. I think I saw a few people I know from a PR association.”
“I’ll find you by nine. We should be done by then.” He kissed me quickly, this time on cheek. “You’re a doll for understanding. I promise you a real date Monday night. That sound good?” he called over his shoulder as he approached a group of artfully chic thirty-somethings admiring one of his sculptures.
“I’d like that.”
I was still watching him when Peter shuffled up to me. “I couldn’t help but overhear. If you ask me, that’s not how a lady should be treated. If he valued you, you’d be his top priority even on his night. He should keep you by his side and introduce you to everyone, make you part of his career.”
Before I could reply, Peter rattled the ice in his glass, took a sip, and disappeared into the crowd without further commentary, leaving me to wonder if he was right and I was a fool.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Monday came far too soon, as it always did. I barely had time to set down my purse and turn on my desk lamp before Laini called me into her office.
Pen and paper in hand, I knocked on her doorframe before stepping inside. My normally calm and collected boss did not look well. It was only nine in the morning, and her curly hair was already coming loose of its hastily pinned updo. Her normally smooth skin was etched with deep lines, and her knuckles were white as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips.
“Are you okay, Laini?”
She motioned for me to sit. “Not in the least. Meetings started at seven this morning, then I got the most charming phone call.” She allowed me to absorb her sarcasm, then she sighed. “Jenna quit. Just up and quit. No two weeks’ notice, nothing.”
I didn’t know what to say. Jenna was a flake, but I’d never expected her to do something so unprofessional. “What? Why?”
“She’s pregnant. Apparently that gives her leave to put us all in a bind.” Laini leaned on her elbows, resting her forehead on the warm base of her mug. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “I suppose you realize this is the worst possible time for her to abandon us. We’re in the thick of so many projects. I’ve handed off some to our other account execs, but they can only do so much.” She looked up then, straight into my eyes.
I shifted in my seat, wondering what was coming next.
“You’ve been here a few years; you know how we operate. You’ve also been intimately involved in the University of Chicago account. That’s why I’m handing that one over to you. As of today, you are both account exec and writer for this project. If you have other things on your plate that would compete with these duties, let me know, and I’ll reassign them to the other writers.”
I sat back, stunned. This was a huge opportunity for me. If I could show the leadership she desired, I might qualify for a permanent promotion. Plus, it meant a lot more time with Alex. “I—thank you. I won’t disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t. That’s why I asked you. You’re in charge through September, when the project launches. Most of our work will be done by then, at least on the creative side. We’ll fill Jenna’s position before then. Once the university’s first-term needs become purely coordination and media relations, it’ll be a good project to hand off to our new person. But I don’t want to leave them without a contact in the meantime.”
“Thank you again. I’ll get in touch with them right away and let them know of the change.” I started to rise, but Laini stopped me.
She held out a spiral notebook with a leather cover. “You might want this. It’s Jenna’s master plan for the project. I’m sure you’ll find more in her computer files, but this should get you started.”
Jenna had a plan? All in one place? Maybe I’d underestimated her. I took the book from Laini, swallowing hard as the full weight of what I’d agreed to pressed on my shoulders. I flipped through the pages, which were just as messy as the file folder had been. Nope. Pegged her right. Once I sorted this all out, I’d be up to my ears in meetings for the next several months, not to mention writing all the creative we still had to produce.
“Oh, and Annabeth?” Laini called after me. “I’m counting on you. If we do well on this, who knows what other business the university might send our way.”
No pressure.
“Damn it!” I yelled, slamming the eyeliner on the faux marble bathroom counter. I was lucky the brown pencil didn’t break. All I was trying to do was line my eyes, but that was impossible with my shaking hands.
Mia appeared in my doorway with a glass of some amber-colored alcohol. “Drink this.”
I glared at her, offended by the idea that I would need to start drinking before my date.
“What? It’s not like you’re driving, and you really do need to chill out.”
“You really are not helping.” I took the glass anyway and took a big sip, regretting it a mom
ent later when the Grand Mariner burned my throat. I gagged and coughed.
“Could have fooled me,” she said, returning to the depths of my closet to choose appropriate accessories to go with the lacy, violet empire-waist sheath dress she had picked out for me earlier.
She was back from whatever exotic locale had recently spit her out and was in full “give Annabeth a makeover” mode. I reluctantly tolerated it because I didn’t want to be alone while I was getting ready for fear my nerves would eat me alive—or at least make me back out of our plans.
“You and Victor have been on plenty of dates, so why are you acting like a virgin on prom night?”
Because I am a virgin, you ding-dong. I widened my eyes while passing the mascara wand over my lashes. “Yeah, but this is our first real date, something that doesn’t involve his art or my work. I’m really starting to care about him,” I added more quietly.
Mia’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you in love?”
“No, but I really like him, and I think this could last a while.”
“So you want to impress him. Understandable. Not necessary, but understandable.” Mia handed me a chunky necklace I didn’t recognize. “It’s mine. He’s an artist. You have to show him that you have an artistic side too. Your stuff is too… petite. Just wear it.”
Scowling, I fastened the necklace then took the earrings she offered.
“So where is he taking you?” She played with my hair, experimentally twisting it up then letting it flow free.
“He wouldn’t tell me. He just said to dress up and that tonight was special.”
“Oh, a mysterious man. Sexy,” she said around a mouthful of hairpins. She’d just put the last one in place when the doorbell rang. Mia hugged me. “Aw, my little girl’s going to get her flower plucked,” she drawled with mock pride. “It’s about time.” I gave her a wry smile. It was true my encounter with Nick in Rome had made me reluctant to trust again, especially when it came to sex, but that didn’t mean I was as pure as she thought. I may have had morals, but I also had needs. I’d had some experience with the few guys I’d dated, just not as much as she thought I should. I hit her playfully. “Shut up. And don’t embarrass me.”
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