I nod, picking up the heavy file.
“Go, shoo. Start making it rain dollar signs in here.”
I zombie walk to my desk and collapse into my non-ergonomic chair. I skim through the files and pictures, stunned by some of the putrid stunts he wants in print. But, I’m just the story spinner, weaving his story into some sort of order, capable of entertaining the masses.
Nate passes my desk at five with a caramel latte from my favorite coffeeshop. The scent hits me before he pulls up Julia’s empty chair and rolls it next to mine. “Jane?” he whispers, placing the coffee next to my keyboard.
I quickly push Simply Sinister’s folder away and close it. “If this is a bribe for Damian info, the coffee has to come with four strippers and an ice cream cake.”
His smile is tight. “Not bribery,” he says fumbling with his cellphone. “I was just scrolling on Facebook and I thought you might want to see this.”
It’s a picture of Pippa Grace sitting next to Dex. They’re shoulder to shoulder, Dex writing in a leather-bound notebook while she poses mid-laugh. “They seem really close. Julia’s been worried about you. Is everything okay with you two?”
I stare at the picture for a minute and try to clear my head of any judgement. I was on a video call with Dex less than ten hours ago, mutually masturbating with him, and this is just a fictionally constructed image to create buzz about her book. That’s it. Dex is not a sexually starved animal unable to reject the passes of a beautiful woman.
Right?
I pick up the coffee and take a sip. It tastes like dirt.
“Julia thinks they might be sleeping together.”
“Oh, yeah? Does she?” Bitch.
His hand falls on my arm gently, his thumb rubbing a small circle on my skin. “You want to get a drink after work or something? Talk for a while?”
“No, thanks,” I say, bolting up and grabbing the files off my desk. “I’m really tired and I have a deadline. Thanks for the coffee.” I shut my computer down and rush out of the office before he can say another stupid word. Yes. I’m jealous. Of course I am. I’m jealous Pippa Grace gets to lounge around on the beach with my boyfriend. I’m jealous that she’s beautiful and can sit down in a bathing suit and not look like a busted can of biscuits like me. But I also want to have an adult relationship with someone I can trust, and I can’t assume just because Dex is working with an attractive woman that means he must be screwing her.
I walk all the way home to try to cool my brain from overthinking things. Dex and I had a nice time on the phone last night. He looked like he enjoyed himself. I can’t have other people putting stuff in my head. I can’t.
When I get home there’s an imprint of Simon’s ass on my couch and I suddenly fear it’s permanent. There’re dishes piled in the sink, at precarious angles, and something neon blue is splattered in clumps all along my coffee table.
“Hey,” he waves from my yoga mat. He smiles at me like a fool, he must be high as a kite.
“Do you by any chance think we have cleaning fairies here in New York?”
“What?” he asks, eyeing the sink I’m pointing to. “You don’t have a cleaning la—”
“Don’t even ask that dumb question. Clean your dishes.”
“But I’m your guest.”
“An uninvited one whowillclean up after himself. It’s just rude to think after working all day, I have to come home and clean up your shit.”
“But—"
“Don’t speak anymore. Just clean the dishes.”
“Your boyfriend is going to come back and not want to be here with the likes of you. You’re like a man-repeller.” He laughs. “See what I did with that word there? You’re rubbing off on me, you’re just not rubbing me off.” He takes a deep inhale of whatever the hell he’s smoking and I storm over to him and rip it out of his hands.
“No more drugs. Not in my apartment.”
He follows me into my bedroom where he lingers in my doorway, playing an impromptu game of twenty questions when I’m clearly exhausted and just want to drink a bottle of wine by myself and sleep for a few hundred centuries. And try not to think that Dex and I aren’t going to make it through this and I’ll be single again, stuck here all alone babysitting a washed-out rock star for the rest of my life.
Jane: You’re right Dex. This is really, really getting to be too much.
Chapter 8
In the morning, flowers get delivered to my workstation. A dozen red roses, with a small white card that reads:I remember how I felt the day I woke up next to you on your couch, amazed how you fit so perfectly in my arms.
