by Lauren Rowe
I nod, feeling like my throat is closing up.
“I thought so,” my boss says, a gleam in his eyes. “Did the hotel where you worked have a Penthouse A?”
I narrow my eyes and don’t respond.
My boss grins. “I did a little Googling last night and it turns out it was Denver where Lucas Ford had that meltdown of his. And then, a few weeks after that, he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at a concert in LA, telling everyone he’d just written a bunch of new songs over the prior few weeks. And then last night, I’ll be damned, he thanked a woman named Abby and referenced some magical time in Penthouse A as the inspiration for all the songs on the album.” He playfully mimics the glare I’m throwing at him. “And now, imagine that, he’s calling to say he wants Penelope Pleasure and no one else to interview him.”
I try not to let my face give anything away. “Imagine that.”
My boss continues. “And you want to know the weirdest thing that happened when I spoke to him? Something I forgot to mention?” He smiles deviously.
“Sure.”
“A couple times during my very short conversation with Lucas Ford, he referred to you as Abby, and not Penelope.”
I feel my eyes bugging out of my head but remain mute.
“And that kind of confuses me, to be honest,” my boss adds. “How on earth would Lucas Ford know your real name is Abby, Miss Pleasure? I’ve never seen you advertise that.”
I’m working very hard not to return my boss’s smug smile. “I have no idea,” I say. “But he’s Lucas Ford, after all. He’s obviously got people who know things.” I stand abruptly. “Anything else I need to know before I head over to his hotel? The Four Seasons, did you say?”
My boss’s smile broadens. “Yeah, he’s checked in under the name Jacob Knobhopper, and he’s staying in none other than Penthouse A.”
I don’t know what facial expression is involuntarily overtaking my features right now, but whatever it is, it’s causing my boss to let out a loud whoop of pure glee. “Oh, Abby,” he says affectionately. “Have I ever told you I love you more than life itself?”
I can’t help myself. I return his beaming smile. “Yes, you have, thank God. Many, many times.”
My boss comes around his desk and hugs me. “You never cease to amaze me, Penelope.” He looks at his watch. “Okay, you’d better get going, honey. You’ll get there on the early side if you leave now, but that’s good. I’ve heard Lucas Ford’s a bit of an impatient prick and we don’t want to keep him waiting.” At that, he flashes me another mischievous smile. Clearly, he’s trying to bait me into defending Lucas’s honor, the same way he’s tried to bait me for the past year to defend Brandon’s. But I’m not going to fall for it and he knows it.
I look down at my dress, relieved I happened to have picked out a particularly “Penelope-esque” dress today, and run my fingertips through my blond pixie cut. “Do I look okay? Am I Lucas-Ford-worthy, you think?”
“You’re perfect from head to toe, sweetheart. Seriously, honey, if Lucas Ford doesn’t fall head over heels in love with you the minute he sees you, then he’s secretly batting for my team.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Penthouse A is the last door at the end of the hallway,” says the hotel employee who is escorting me to the restricted penthouse floor. He gestures through the opened elevator doors. “Do you require an escort all the way to Mr. Knobhopper’s door, miss?”
We smile at each other about Lucas’s ridiculous pseudonym. “No, I’m good,” I say. “Mr. Knobhopper is expecting me. Thank you.”
I begin walking down the short hallway, my knees wobbling and my mind racing. Does Lucas truly expect me to interview him today or could it be, please God, that today is finally one day?
I reach the door of the penthouse.
Oh, lord, my heart is pounding.
I stand and stare at the door for a ridiculously long amount of time, feeling sick to my stomach. If I’m seriously here to interview Lucas and nothing more, if he hasn’t summoned me here because he’s been aching for our one day as much as I have over the past year and a half, I’ll be heartbroken.
I take another deep breath.
Well, crap, no matter how scared I am, I can’t stand out here forever.
I rap softly on the penthouse door. Ten seconds later, lo and behold, Nerd Guy, who checked Lucas into The Rockford a lifetime ago, is standing before me.
I put out my hand. “Hi there. I’m Penelope Pleasure. Abby Medford, actually. I’m here to interview Mr. Ford, at his request.”
It’s clear from Nerd Guy’s expression he doesn’t recognize me in the slightest. “Yeah. Come in.” He widens the door to reveal a penthouse suite that blows the one from The Rockford out of the water. “Luke will be out in a minute. He’s on the phone in the bedroom.” Nerd Guy motions to a sitting area. “Can I get you something to drink while you wait? Water? Beer? Booze? Wine?”
“Water would be great,” I say. “Thank you.”
I settle myself onto the couch, trying desperately to breathe.
There’s a woman talking on the phone at a little desk in the corner, and from the professional but firm tone of her voice, it sounds to me like she’s very calmly kicking someone’s ass. There are a couple of extremely large dudes sitting in a far corner. Bodyguards? And there’s another nerdy dude sitting in an armchair a few feet away from mine. But no German supermodel, as far as I can see. Huh. Maybe “Lucas is talking on the phone in the bedroom” is code for “Lucas is busy fucking a German supermodel up the ass in the bedroom.”
I smile politely at Nerd Guy Number Two sitting a few feet away from me in the sitting area. “Hi there,” I say. “I’m Abby.”
His face lights up with some sort of recognition. “Jeremy.” He leans forward and shakes my hand. “Luke’s manager. He told me about you. Nice to finally meet you.”
The hair on my arms stands up. What did Lucas say about me?
Nerd Guy Number Two motions to the woman on the phone in the corner. “That’s Luke’s publicist. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you about the ground rules for the interview when she gets off the phone.”
My chest squeezes. Crap. Does that mean I’m really here to do an interview?
The original Nerd Guy returns and hands me a glass of ice water.
“Thank you,” I say. I look at Nerd Guy Number Two. “I only just found out about the interview an hour ago, so…um…I was just planning to talk to Lucas organically. But, of course, I’d be happy to ask, or refrain from asking, whatever you guys want. I didn’t make a pitch to get the interview. Lucas called my boss and…” I trail off and stand abruptly. Lucas has just come out of the bedroom, and every single cell in my body is physically straining toward his beautiful frame.
Oh, dear lord, he’s stunning. Ten times more gorgeous than he ever was when he pretended to be my boyfriend. He looks like a new man. He looks…happy.
Lucas strides toward me, his eyes blazing, his cheeks flushed. But before he reaches me, his publicist, who just happened to get off her call as Lucas appeared, is standing in front of me, her hand out.
The publicist introduces herself to me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she just cock-blocked her famous client.
I take the publicist’s hand and shake it, but I’m focused on Lucas’s handsome face.
“So, let’s talk ground rules for the interview,” the publicist barks. “Have a seat.” She motions to the couch.
“Let’s not,” Lucas says behind her, looking like he’s about to explode. “In fact, you can all clear out. I think this particular interview should be done one-on-one.”
Lucas’s entourage looks at each other, obviously taken aback.
“Bye, everyone,” Lucas says, still looking right at me. “Thanks.”
The publicist looks me up and down, clearly surprised, and then looks at her client. “You sure, Lucas? I’d like to—”
“I’m sure.”
Slowly, everyone around us gathe
rs their stuff and shuffles out the door, all of them glancing at each other as though they’re deeply offended by Lucas’s request.
The door clicks softly.
And everyone is gone.
I look at Lucas, unsure what to do. Of course, the only thing my body wants to do is hurl myself into his arms. But I refrain. For all I know, Lucas’s supermodel girlfriend is in the bedroom and I’m here to do a freaking interview.
“Sit,” Lucas says.
I sit on one end of the couch and Lucas sits on the other.
“You look gorgeous,” he says, his eyes burning.
“Thank you. So do you. Better than ever. I’m so proud of you.”
Lucas looks me up and down again, his eyes on fire. “You were always pretty, don’t get me wrong, but wow, Abby, with that hair and those clothes, you actually look like an assassin now. I love it.”
I bite my lower lip and run my fingers through my hair. “Thank you.” I wink. “I’m Penelope Pleasure now, you know. And she’s sassy.”
Lucas laughs. “Yes, she is.”
I shift in my seat. My God, my heartbeat is absolutely pounding in my ears. For the life of me, I can’t read Lucas’s body language. Is he keeping his distance over there on the other end of the couch because his girlfriend is in the bedroom? Or because this truly is a professional opportunity he’s extending to me? I truly have no idea what’s going on. But suddenly I can’t contain the tidal wave of emotion rising up inside me. “Thank you so much for the money,” I blurt. “I didn’t have your phone number to thank you, so I sent a card to the return address on the FedEx envelope. I had no other way to contact you. You’ve changed my life. I’ve been dying to thank you.”
Lucas smiles. “I got your card. It was sweet. You’re very welcome.”
Tears prick my eyes. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. Lucas, you saved me.”
“All I did was return the favor after you saved me.”
“But Lucas, you had no favor to return. You’re the one who wrote those amazing songs, not me. I did nothing. I don’t deserve thanks. But you? Your generosity and belief in me changed the trajectory of my entire life.” I swallow hard. “You saved me from what was sure to be a life of misery and extreme lack of fulfillment. You saved me, Lucas. And now I’m genuinely happy.”
Lucas’s face melts. “I’m so glad to hear it. But Angel, trust me. You saved yourself. I just gave you a tiny nudge. You did it yourself.”
“A tiny nudge? No, Lucas, you pushed me off a cliff. You gave me an insane amount of money. I guarantee you, I wouldn’t have taken a leap of faith without that money. And even more so, without you telling me I was talented.”
“I just spoke the truth. You’ve got a gift.”
“But you backed up your belief in me with so much money.”
“It was nothing. I’ve got more money than God these days. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but since we last saw each other, I’ve had a couple hit songs.”
I chuckle and wipe my eyes. “Really? No, I don’t think I’ve heard about that. Congrats.”
He smiles. “So how’d your parents take it when you quit law school?”
I glance toward the bedroom, trying to figure out if a certain German supermodel is holed up in there, but I can’t see inside the cracked door from here. “My parents freaked the fuck out, actually,” I say and he laughs. “They thought me quitting school was a sign I was flying off the rails and ‘making unhealthy choices’ again.” I roll my eyes at the memory. “They wanted to check me into some sort of rehab facility when I first told them my plans. But now that I’m gainfully employed and there are no signs I’m a human grenade, they’re vaguely tolerant of my life choices. Maybe even a tiny bit proud. Sort of.”
“You still talk to them?”
I nod. “It’s strained, to be honest. But at least they’ve recently stopped trying to convince me to go back to law school.”
“And your demons? How are they holding up?”
Why aren’t we in each other’s arms, kissing the hell out of each other? Why is this conversation so…polite? “They’re my little bitches,” I say. “I’ve been in therapy with this amazing woman in the city for a while now, and I’ve never been better. Honestly, I do what I want and I don’t feel like I have any issues anymore. It turns out, being happy and honest about who I am in all aspects of my life has worked some sort of exorcism on those pesky little demons. Who knew honesty and happiness were the magic bullets?”
Lucas smiles broadly. “Fantastic.” He pauses. “So…speaking of pesky demons, did you get a chance to listen to my song ‘Abby’?”
Boom. Here we go. Finally. “Only a couple…billion times,” I say. “I listened to it four times this morning, actually.”
Lucas looks nervous. “And?”
And what do you think, motherfucker? I’m wondering if today is finally one day!
“And…it ripped my heart out while simultaneously giving me hope,” I answer honestly. “It made me wonder if maybe, one day, we might get to connect again.”
“And now here we are,” he says.
I open my mouth and close it. What the heck does that mean? Is this our one day or not? If I don’t find out what’s going on soon, I’m seriously going to lose my mind.
“So, hey, whatever happened to you hating paparazzi?” Lucas asks. His jaw muscles pulse. “I keep seeing photos of you coming out of restaurants and bars with Brandon Hard-on. What’s that about?”
And suddenly this strangeness between us makes perfect sense. Lucas thinks I’m in love with Brandon Hanover! “I’m really glad you brought that up,” I say. “I actually have a confession to make about that.”
Lucas looks like he’s holding his breath.
“Remember that time I told you I hated paparazzi? That was a bald-faced lie. I’m a famewhore of the highest order, Lucas. Fame, fame, fame! That’s all I care about. I crave it like a junkie craves smack.”
Lucas laughs. “I knew it!” He bites his beautiful lip and looks at me ruefully. “So I presume you’ve been rocking that fucker’s world, the same way you rocked mine?”
My heart leaps. I rocked Lucas’s world? “Yeah, I rocked Brandon’s world,” I admit. “But not emotionally. Only physically. Our relationship, such as it was, was about as deep as a puddle.”
Lucas’s face lights up. “Was? You’re not with him anymore?”
I grin broadly. “I officially ended things with him last night. Right after watching the Grammys, as a matter of fact.”
He looks absolutely electrified. “Really? Why’d you do that?”
“When you thanked me in your first speech, something clicked inside me. I realized I deserve more than being someone’s glorified fuck buddy. I realized I want something real.”
The look Lucas is flashing me could melt the polar ice caps. “What’d Brandon Hand Job say when you told him you were done with him?”
“He said, ‘Okay.’”
Lucas laughs. “Wow. Deep thoughts from Mr. Action Hero.”
“Well, in his defense, he also generously offered to buy me an apartment in the city as a parting gift.”
An unmistakable shadow crosses over Lucas’s face. “And what’d you say to that offer?”
“I said, ‘No, thank you.’ I didn’t want him assuming he had any sort of claim over me going forward. I wanted to be completely free.”
We stare at each other for some time, the sexual tension between us thick.
“Speaking of fuck buddies,” I say, “whatever happened to you never dating supermodels?”
He smiles wickedly. “Oh, you saw me with Bridgette last night, did you?”
“She was your date at the Grammys, Lucas. Literally half the world’s population saw you with her.”
He smirks. “Were you jealous?”
“I’ll put it this way. I would have been quite pleased if there had been a vat of acid on the red carpet last night and she had tripped and stumbled into it.
”
Lucas throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, me too. She’s such a bitch, you have no idea. God, I hate that woman.”
I might explode with happiness. I want to throw myself at him, but I just can’t be sure I won’t be rejected.
Lucas sighs. “Come here, Ass-kicker.” He pats the couch next to him and I warily scoot closer. He grabs my hand and electricity shoots throughout my body, straight into my crotch. “Angel,” he says. “Remember what I told you? I show up places with models and actresses sometimes for publicity. Bridgette and I made for good TV last night, didn’t we? I’m told by my publicist we’re ‘the perfect couple.’”
The weight of the world just lifted off me. “So you’re single?”
“I’m single. Just like you. Free as a bird.” But still he doesn’t make his move the way I’m hoping he will. He simply begins stroking my forearm gently. “Why didn’t you write that hit piece about me, Abby?” he asks softly. “I kept checking your blog, and then Maxim, looking for it. I kept waiting for my lawyer to call and tell me there was something really embarrassing I needed to see…but it never came.”
I shrug.
“Why didn’t you write it, Abby?”
“Because I’d never do that to you,” I say simply. “Never.”
He touches my cheek tenderly. “Why not? Everybody uses me. And I gave you permission. So why not you, too?”
I look into his glistening eyes. He truly doesn’t understand why I didn’t want to use our magical time together for personal gain? Well, then I guess I’ll just have to explain it to him in unambiguous terms. “I didn’t write it because I love you, Lucas,” I say. “I genuinely love you. I’d never use you or the way I feel about you to get something for myself. The only thing I want from you is for you to be happy, whether that includes me or not.”
And that’s it. A dam visibly breaks inside him. He grabs my face and kisses me so passionately he takes my breath away.
I throw my arms around him, straddle his lap, and return his kiss, surrendering myself to him, letting my lips and tongue and body tell him everything my paltry words can’t. I love him and I always will. I love the fantasy of him. The reality of him. The artist. The man. I love him whether today is one day or just a sweet chance for closure. No matter the circumstance, I’ll love this man until the day I die.
