“I just have no idea what comes next.”
Kendra puts her arm around me. Irina picks up her wineglass.
“Next we go to Italy,” Irina says.
“Italy?”
I look from Irina to Kendra, who shrugs.
“I’m producing the new Oceans. You may have heard? And I’d like you to come with me. But not as my assistant,” Irina says. “As a producer.”
My mouth drops open. I can physically feel my jaw unhinge.
“What? You don’t think that’s what you’ve been doing? You do notes, you handle schedules, you made a budget for our last feature. Listen, no one would like you to stay my assistant forever more than me, but it’s time to look toward the future, Daphne. You’re already producing. We’re just going to make it official now.”
“I—”
“I’ve never had anyone work for me who was as determined and resourceful and who this came so easily to—” Irina looks to Kendra. “Honestly, you should take some offense to all of this.”
Kendra laughs. “I do.”
Irina turns her attention back to me. I look at her face. Her raised eyebrows, her bright red lipstick. There is a smile playing on her lips.
“So, what do you say?” she asks.
It’s the easiest yes I’ve ever given.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Daphne, sixteen months later.
I’m balancing a shopping bag, a purse, and an iced tea when my cell phone rings. Hugo is calling.
“Hi,” I say. “Hi! I am about to drop a very cold and very large beverage.”
“Lovely visual. Where are you?”
“On Little Santa Monica.”
I’m headed toward the Le Pain Quotidien between Camden and Bedford in Beverly Hills. The wind is riled here, but then it always is in the fall. The Santa Anas land, and they stir everything up. Dust, dirt, skirts, last season’s grievances. They’re all up for grabs.
“I thought you had a hot date.”
I smile. I shift my bag up onto my shoulder. “We’ve been over this,” I say. “It’s not a date. It’s just coffee.”
“Does he know that?”
“He does,” I say.
“You better hurry. If you’re late he might get the message you’re not interested at all.”
“Hugo!” I say. “It’s not even two thirty yet. And this phone call isn’t helping. I’m hanging up now.”
I am in need of caffeine today—hence the iced tea—but now I just feel jittery. All the bubbles in my stomach jiggle and begin to pop. During our five-month stint in Rome I picked up a bad espresso habit I’m having a hard time shaking.
“Not yet,” he says. “I have more things to say.”
I’m standing on the corner of Camden. I look down the block at the restaurant on the left-hand side. I think about what is waiting for me in there.
