Sunny became my personal assistant, effortlessly stepping into the role. No job was too much and no client too difficult. Several months after Sunny came to work for me, I read in the paper about that start-up going under, and I couldn’t hold back the smug satisfaction that karma had won out.
“Don’t sweat it, my dude,”was Sunny’s answer whenever I stressed over my clients or my parents.
“I’m trying to be industrious.” I sipped my latte and winced at the burn in my stomach.
Sunny flopped down on the sofa and stretched out his long legs. “Dude, that’s your third cup, and it’s only eleven o’clock. Your heart must be doing a conga in your chest. Slow it down.” He directed one of his rare frowns at me and shook his head, the long ponytail swinging off his shoulder.
When you can smell your own coffee breath, it might be a sign to stop. “You’re right.” I shifted my focus away from the contract I’d been reading and marking up for changes. “I was up late going over the paperwork for the movie rights to Arden’s new book. With all the interest, I want to get him the best deal and the most money.”
“And you will, but that doesn’t mean you need to get an ulcer in the process. I swear I saw you online at two thirty this morning.”
I grimaced. “Maybe. But why were you on? What were you doing on the computer so late? It couldn’t have been work?”
“Hell, no.” He shot me a cocky grin. “Phone sex is awesome. You know Angie’s in Italy shooting forItalian Vogue, so we grab whatever time we can.”
I mustered a smile. “Good for you. And say hi for me next time.”
“I will. She says thank you for everything.” He bounced off to the refrigerator to get his oat milk for his herbal tea. “The job is going great, and tonight she’s off to the Greek Islands for another shoot. Man, that’s the life.” He shook his head and sipped his tea.
“It’s hard work, don’t kid yourself. And you could’ve been a model and made tons of money. You have the look. I told you that when I hired you.”
“I’d rather cut my balls off than parade around half-naked. Besides, who’d take care of you? If I left, you’d end up ordering in takeout three times a day and never leave this desk, except to go to some party where you’d still only concentrate on work. Ez, you need to take a break, man. Chill out and take some downtime. Find a boyfriend.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Sunny steepled his fingers under his chin, his gaze steady on my face. “What’s got you so down on relationships?”
“I’m not down on them. Relationships are great. Just not for me.”
Still skeptical, Sunny persisted. “Then maybe a vacation. You could go see your folks. It’s been almost a year.”
The last thing I wanted to do was go back to California, where my father would slip in and out for a few minutes to discuss business and my mother would tell me what I’d been doing wrong since I left and hound me to come home so she could tell me how to do it right. Her way. I picked up the contract again. “I’m fine. I spent a weekend up at Ross’s mountain cabin a couple of weeks ago.”
“Dude, that was three months ago.” Sunny’s warm brown eyes met mine, and I winced at his pitying expression. “Since then, you haven’t had a night off, except to hook up with that Pasco occasionally, and he’s not who you’re looking for.”
The problem with working so closely with someone for years was that not only did they know you, but along with that easy familiarity came their opinions on your life.
“Well, it’s not going to be tonight, that’s for sure. The Actors Guild has a party, and there’s a restaurant soft opening I’m invited to. Why don’t you come with me? It’s about time you learned more of the business.”
“Yeah?” He rubbed one Converse-shod foot over the other and contemplated his milky tea. “I dunno. I never thought about it. I guess I’m happy, so why rock the boat?”
I’d never met anyone like Sunny, who didn’t subscribe to the Rat Race Daily Grind. When he came to work for me, he’d confided he’d been satisfied to work as a waiter and didn’t need tons of money to be happy. A rare individual, especially in Hollywood. He’d never indicated he wanted more out of life than to be my assistant, but I saw his potential. Certainly not as an agent, because he wasn’t hardened enough, but working with me as a life coach to my clients would be perfect.
“Come on. What else do you have going on tonight since Angie’s going to be traveling?” Suddenly, I desperately wanted his company.
“Okay, but I don’t have a tux.”
The uncertainty was endearing and refreshing in my world, where everyone pretended confidence. “You can borrow one of mine. We’re the same size. Please?”
He studied me. “Okay, sure. Maybe you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me what’s got you tied up in knots these past weeks.”
My stomach tumbled with dread, and to cover my unease, I picked up my latte and took a big gulp. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Listen, it’s no sin or sign of weakness to want to see a psychologist. Everyone can use some help.”
How the hell…“What’re you talking about?” But I always was a shit liar, and Sunny raised a dark, sculpted brow.
“You put a name and address in your contacts, and it synced to my calendar. Dr. Monroe Friedman, adjunct professor of psychology at CUNY. I looked him up.” My chest tightened, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep a neutral face. Either I’d become better at hiding my emotions, or Sunny ignored me in favor of spilling his gossip. “He’s your age and graduated from City College. Grew up in a housing project on the Upper West Side, his father was an EMT and died on the job. He’s gay and not married.” He waited expectantly for me to speak.
