by Alyson Noel
When I got to my apartment, I headed straight for the kitchen, and having run out of wine, champagne, or anything remotely festive (since I wasn’t allowed to drink while on Ready Reserve), I poured some Pellegrino into a champagne flute and sat on the couch, where I listened to Hope’s message over and over again. Then I looked at Jonathan Franzen swimming laps in his tank, and thought how ironic it was that after working so hard to rebuild my life, I had no one left to share it with.
And after calling my mom, Kat, and Clay, and telling them the good news, I’d just poured my second celebratory glass of water when my cell rang.
“Congratulations!”
“Um, thanks. Who’s this?” I asked, recognizing neither the voice nor the number.
“Dane.”
“Oh, hey,” I said, wondering why he was calling and what he could possibly be praising me for. I mean, it’s not like he’d know about the book deal; it just happened. “So, congratulations for what?”
“Your two-book deal!”
“Oh,” I mumbled, wondering if Clay had somehow contacted him, since he was always trying to get us together.
“You don’t sound all that excited,” he said.
“I am, really. I’m just wondering how you know, that’s all.”
“I saw it on Publishers Marketplace.”
And since I had no idea what that was, or why he’d be reading it, I didn’t say anything.
“So who’s handling the deal for you?” he asked.
“Um, I am,” I said, while thinking Here we go again. I mean, he always made me feel like I had no idea what I was doing. I mean, maybe I didn’t. But, still.
“Do you have anyone to read over the contract?”
“No,” 1 said, rolling my eyes. Jeez, this guy was a total buzz kill. Couldn’t I just concentrate on being happy, and leave all the small print for later?
“Well, it’s something you should consider. Those contracts can be pretty confusing if you don’t know what to look for. I’d be happy to help,” he offered.
“We’ll see,” I said, shaking my head and sipping my sparkling water.
“So, any plans to celebrate?” he asked.
“Well, my friends are flying in from Greece this week, so we’ll probably go to dinner or something,” I told him, suddenly feeling like a total loser, despite my recent success. “And my mom’s coming into town as well.” Lame, Hailey. Sad, pathetic, and lame.
“Well, what about tonight? Flying off to any exotic locales?” “Does the corner of Twenty-third and Eighth count?”
He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “How about dinner? With me. Tonight. I’ll take you anywhere that’ll accept a lastminute reservation.”
I sipped my sparkling water and gazed at Jonathan Franzen. Well, at least someone wants to celebrate with me. And even though Dane totally gets on my nerves, it still beats takeout. Besides, it’s just one meal, so how bad could it be?
“I know just the place,” I told him.
I could smell the rich aroma even before Dane opened the door. “Entrez,” he said, motioning me into his apartment. “Welcome to Chez Dane.” And when he smiled I noticed he was cuter than I’d allowed myself to remember.
“Nice dress,” I said, eyeing the stained and wrinkled white apron he wore over his faded jeans and striped cotton shirt.
“You remember Jake?” he said as the friendly chocolate lab hurried over to greet me.
I leaned down to pet Jake, patting him on the head and scratching under his chin, thinking how nice it would be to have a dog like this to come home to every day.
“So, I hope you like champagne?” he asked, popping the cork and filling two flutes, stopping just before the bubbles ran over the top and down the sides. Then, handing me my glass, he lifted his. “To Hailey Lane, New York City’s newest literary sensation!” He smiled, tapping his glass against mine.
“Uh, let’s not get carried away here.” I laughed.
“Don’t downplay it. It’s a huge accomplishment. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a book deal?”
I thought about the months of struggle, isolation, and self-doubt. And how at one point I’d been so desperate I ignored my better instincts and completely sold out. “Yeah, I think I know.”
“Most people are never offered a deal. And those who are work for years before they get it,” he said.
I remembered how I’d been given similar statistics when I became a flight attendant. Only two out of every thousand applicants makes it this far, they’d told us at orientation. Now look around you and know that several more won’t make it through training. “Well, I guess I got lucky.” I shrugged, thinking how funny that sounded. “Though it does feel pretty incredible. I mean this entire day has just been so surreal. First I got a rejection letter that made me feel two levels below rock bottom; then I got the call from Hope that sent me soaring so high I marched into my supervisor’s office and quit my job.”And now I’m having dinner with you, I thought, taking a sip of champagne.
“You quit Atlas?” he asked, his mouth hanging open in shock. “Um, yeah.” I shrugged. “I guess I had no business quitting my day job, but, well, it’s a long story.”
He looked at me and smiled, but I could tell he was worried. “Hailey, I’d really like to help you navigate your way through all of this if you’ll let me.”
I finished the rest of my champagne, set my glass on the counter, and looked at him, knowing it was now or never. “Look, no offense, but what makes you think you know your way around any better than me? I mean, you’re not actually a writer, are you?”
But he just looked at me and smiled.
“I mean, I’ll probably just look it over, and if I have any questions, then I know where to find you,” I said, feeling bad about the tone, but sheesh, if this guy really wanted to be my friend then he was gonna have to stop butting in all the time.
“Sounds good.” He nodded, heading over to check on the stove. “We have standard boilerplates for all the major publishers, including Phoenix, so just let me know if you need anything.”
I watched as he checked under lids and stirred something in a pot as my stomach filled with dread,. “Wait,” I said, moving around the counter till I was standing next to him. “Why would you have a boilerplate for Phoenix?”
“Because I’m general counsel for McKenzie and Thurston,” he said.
I just stood there looking at him. I had no idea what that meant. “You’ve never heard of us?”
I shook my head. Once again, he was making me feel completely uninformed. But apparently I had a lot to learn.
“We’re a literary agency. You’ve been to my office, so I just assumed you knew.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I handled Cadence’s contract, and most of Harrison Mann’s—”
“And now you’re offering to handle mine,” I said, feeling so embarrassed for all those months of brushing him off and thinking he was arrogant and pompous, when actually, he was only trying to help.
“It’s up to you,” he said, reaching for the knob and turning down the heat.
“Well, if you’re good enough for Harrison Mann. . .” I laughed, feeling my face warm and redden. “But I should apologize,” I said, shaking my head and looking at him. “For blowing you off all this time. I guess I’ve just wanted this for so long, but I wanted to do it myself, without any help. And now that it’s finally happened I feel like I’ve just been invited to join some exclusive private club, only I don’t know any of the rules.”
“That’s where I come in,” he said, smiling and holding my gaze, making me so nervous I quickly looked away.
“So, do you need any help?” I asked, motioning toward the simmering pots.
“It’s under control.” He smiled. “But you can put on some music, if you’d like.”
I browsed through his CD collection, surprised to see we had such similar tastes. And after choosing the Garden State sound-track, I wandered over to some shelves where a group of colorful ceramic Mexican folk
-art pieces were displayed.
“Where’d you get these?” I asked, lightly running my finger along the edge of a brightly painted animal that looked like a coyote, but I couldn’t be sure.
“I traveled through Mexico for three months the summer between grad school and law school,” he said, grabbing his wineglass and coming over to join me.
“What’d you study in grad school?”
“International affairs. Here, this one’s my favorite,” he said, lifting a ceramic piece depicting a classroom scene where the students all had horns and the teacher was sticking her tongue out at them.
“Oh my God, that so reminds me of high school.” I laughed as he looked at me and smiled. “Um, so where in Mexico did you go?” I asked nervously.
“All over. Oaxaca, Chiapas, Michoacan—”
“Sounds awesome.” I said, moving on to another interesting piece.
“Have you been?”
I shrugged. “A few short layovers in Mexico City, some day trips to Tijuana, a couple long weekends in Cabo—you know; all the usual haunts when you grow up north of the border.’
“You’re from California?” he asked.
“Born and raised in the OC.” I nodded.
“I grew up in Studio City.”
We stood there for a moment, gazing at each other, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. But just as he moved toward me, my cell started ringing. And even though I was more than willing to ignore it, Dane smiled and said, “You should probably get that.”
I raced toward my purse, grabbed my cell, and flipped it open, though I was sure it was too late.
“This is Shannon Atkins from Atlas In-flight Service, I’d like to speak with Hailey Lane, please.”
Oh my God! Is this for real? Does she really think she can still harass me even after I’ve quit? I mean, what is with these people?
But I didn’t say any of that. Instead I just rolled my eyes and said, “Speaking.”
“Oh good, I’m so glad I caught you! You probably haven’t even realized it yet, but it seems you’ve lost your ID.”
“Excuse me?” I said, wondering what the heck she was talking about.
“It’s sitting right here on my desk. It looks like the lanyard broke, so it must have just fallen right off your neck without you even noticing. Lawrence found it on the ground right outside his office, and he brought it to my immediate attention. So when do you think you can come by and get it?”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure,” I said, gripping the phone and trying to digest this most recent turn of events. Was she really unaware of the fact that I’d quit? And had I really scared Lawrence straight? So to speak.
“I’ll just keep it locked in my desk. But don’t forget to call before you come in, since you know you can’t enter the lounge without it. Enjoy your weekend, Hailey!”
“Um, you too,” I said, closing my phone and wondering if Atlas had become like a bad boyfriend that I’d never be able to shake.
“Is everything okay?” Dane asked, already sitting at the table
I looked at him and smiled. “You’re not gonna believe this,” I said, heading over to join him.
The cabin is secure when all
baggage is finally stowed.
“I swear, Chez Dane is by far my favorite restaurant.” I smiled, leaning back in my seat feeling happy, lazy, and full. “I don’t know
anyone who can throw together braised short ribs and pumpkin
orzo on a moment’s notice. What’d you do? Attend Cordon Bleu between all of your other accomplishments?”
“Nope, just a hobby,” he said, refilling our wineglasses.
“And I bet Jake loves the leftovers,” I said, glancing over at the chocolate lab lying on the living room rug and noticing how his head perked up at just the mention of his name.
“So when do I get to read this book of yours?” Dane asked, leaning back in his chair and smiling.
“Uh, when it’s revised, edited, copyedited, bound, and sitting on the shelf in Barnes and Noble?”
“You’re gonna make me wait?”
“Well, you didn’t seem all that interested before it sold,” I teased.
“I didn’t even realize I had it until I called you.”
“Fair enough.” I shrugged.
“So,” he said, pushing his chair away from the table. “Should we head out on the town? Or stay in and watch a movie?”
I looked at him standing across from me and realized I’d been having such a surprisingly nice time just hanging with him and Jake that I really didn’t feel like going out into the cold and crowded night. “What movies do you have?”
“I’ve got a pretty good selection in the den. Why don’t you choose one while I put this stuff away.” He smiled.
“Need any help?” I asked.
But he just shook his head. “The movies are in the cupboard, under the flat screen. I’ll meet you in the den in ten,” he said, smiling and heading for the sink.
I made my way down the hall, and the second I reached the den I looked at the couch and thought, Oh crap, Cadence’s book is still under there! And I knew that no matter what it took, I needed to get it back on the shelf while I had the chance.
But I also had to pick a movie.
And knowing I only had ten minutes or less to accomplish both of these tasks, I wasn’t sure which to conquer first. I mean, if I went straight for the book and then Dane came in and I hadn’t picked a movie, he’d wonder what the hell I’d been doing all that time. But if I took too long picking a movie, then I ran the risk of getting caught with my hand under the couch.
Okay, I decided, I’m just gonna pick a movie, any movie, and then I’ll go find that stupid book.
But when I opened the cupboard I found four shelves chock-full of DVDs. Great, I thought, quickly scanning the titles, this is gonna take forever. Apparently he owned all of my favorite movies, and I had no idea how I’d choose just one.
I ran my fingers over the cases: American Beauty, Chinatown, The Pianist, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,Selen,Pulp Fiction, High Fidelity, Annie Hall, Requiem for a Dream, Ghost World, The Shaw shank Redemption, Harold and Maude . . .
Knowing I didn’t have time to waste I reached for The Graduate, which I hadn’t seen in years but which always made me laugh, followed by Silence of the Lambs, which I’d recently seen on TNT but wouldn’t mind seeing again; then I tossed them onto the table, slammed the cupboard door, and made a beeline for the couch.
Slinking around the back of the sofa, I quickly scanned the room, making sure that other than me, the den was completely empty. Then, giving myself the all-clear, I dropped to my knees, bent forward, and slid my arm under as far as it would go.
I was down on all fours, feeling around as best I could, hoping I could locate the book before coming across anything disgusting, when I realized that with my arm bent the way it was, and with the couch being kinda long, it was quite possible I would crawl like this forever and still not maximize my full potential.
So straining my neck and peering over the top, I checked to make sure I was still alone. Then I flattened myself on the ground, turned my head so that my cheek was resting on the smooth hard-wood floor, and pressed my nose firmly against the brown damask upholstery. And keeping one eye closed, I scoped with the other, trying to make out the shape of a bestselling book in the sliver of shallow, dark space before me.
Unable to see anything but black, I inched my body forward like a Navy Seal on a highly sensitive, top-secret mission, sweeping the sliver of space with my left arm, which, stretched to its full ex-tent, was beginning to ache from all the strain.
Where the heck was it? I mean, the couch was long, but it’s not like it was all that wide. So where the heck could it have gone?
And by the time I’d made it to the end, I’d barely collected so much as a dust ball. But knowing it was under there somewhere (since I’m the one who’d put it there) and sensing the minutes slip-ping away, I decided to hea
d back where I came from, arm sweeping, and double-checking the entire way.
I was inching backward, keeping flush to the floor and using the toes of my black leather boots for leverage, when I felt the very tips of my fingers graze something that felt like it might possibly bemade of paper. And crushing my body as hard as I could against the back of the couch, I extended my arm so far I thought it would pop from its socket, as my fingers frantically reached for what I now knew was Cadence’s book.
And just as I grasped it, I felt someone breathe softly in my ear. “Shit!” I jumped, pulling away from the couch, and turning to see it was only Jake. “Jeez! You scared the heck out of me,” I whispered as he sniffed at my face and licked my cheek. “Go on now.” I pushed him with my free hand, the one that wasn’t throbbing and still partially wedged under the couch. “Go find your master. I’ll be through in a minute,” I told him, anxious to get back to work before Dane came in and found me like that.
And just as I slid back to the ground, pressing myself against the couch and getting into position, I heard footsteps.
Followed by the sound of Dane’s voice saying, “Looking for this?”
And then I closed my eyes and froze.
And then I reviewed my options.
I could either:
A. Stay put for as long as it took, refusing to budge, breathe, or speak.
B. Pretend I’d lost an earring, and was just looking for it.
C. Get up and own up.
I chose A.
“Hailey?” Dane said, his voice filled with worry. “Are you okay?” I lay there for a while, trying not to think about how much worse this probably looked from his angle; then I took a deep breath, retrieved my cramped and throbbing arm, and got up from the floor, awkwardly unfolding my body until I was finally standing before him.
“Oh, hey,” I said, having decided to take the nonchalant approach, and casually ridding myself of tiny pieces of lint. “I, um, Ithought I dropped something.” I shrugged, avoiding his eyes and suppressing a nervous laugh.
