I’m struck with equal parts horror and excitement because if Vin noticed, maybe Jack did too? And if he did, he certainly didn’t seem bothered by it. Unless his openness was more professional courtesy than actual interest.
God, being with him, even talking fish for a couple of hours... I could get addicted. Half the news sites say I’m hiding a substance abuse problem anyway. Why not make Jack my drug of choice? It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy to look at, but beyond that, I want more time with him. He can explain to me the different kinds of bait he uses or how to tell where the best fishing spots are. I really don’t care as long as he’ll let me be David with him.
Like he knows what I’m thinking—because he almost always does—Vin says, “He really has no idea who you are, does he?”
“Nope.” Something like excitement rushes over me.
“So when are you going to tell him?”
And because even after all these years I still think I can outsmart Vin, I ask, “Tell him what?”
He folds his hands into his sleeves like a Jedi. “Damian.”
“Why do I need to tell him?”
“Uh, because we’re adults, and it’s the adult thing to do?”
I hate it when he gets all mature and shit.
“What does it matter? It’s fishing.”
“Uh-huh.” He sips his fizzy water with a knowing smirk.
“It is,” I insist. “We’re here for twelve more days, and then we go back to LA. If he thinks I’m a bodyguard named David and doesn’t talk to me like the sun shines out of my ass or ask me about Cannes every ten minutes, what’s the harm?”
“The harm is that you think it feels real, and it isn’t. You’re playing another role.”
I stride up and down the length of the balcony. “So now you’re a psychologist on top of everything else?”
“Well, one of us needs our head on straight, and apparently it’s not you.”
“Look.” I hold my hands up. “As long as it’s only fishing, I’m not saying anything, okay? If it starts heading anywhere else though, I’ll come clean. Does that work for you, oh wise teacher?”
He arches an eyebrow. I really don’t want to fight with him about this. Finally, he jabs an accusatory finger at me. “I’m not going back out on that boat.”
“That’s fine.” Suits me better actually. The Mr. Morgan ruse would only work for so long with Vin there in person.
“Which means you have to keep your promise like a big boy without mummy watching over your shoulder.”
“You’re too self-involved to be anyone’s mother,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“But you’d like Jack to be your daddy, wouldn’t you?”
First thing I’m doing when I get back to LA is finding new friends.
* * *
The followingmorning starts off with the unexpected whir of the electronic lock on my door.
“Hey! I’m okay. I don’t need housekeeping.” I struggle to sit up, still half asleep.
“Oh, come on. It’s me.” Vin pushes into the room with a sunny grin on his face. It is, unfortunately, the only sunny thing going on. It’s raining outside. Big fat drops of water splash onto the balcony, which is already more puddles than planks.
“How did you get a key to my room?” I ask.
“Ivy authorized it,” Vin says. “Now come on, get up.”
Oh, I’m up. I leap out of bed and tackle him, wrestling until I can grab the extra key card from him. He squawks a protest, but he doesn’t try to get it back.
