If I had, this afternoon I’d be leaving the set in the capable hands of my team and traveling down to San Francisco for a meeting at Webflix with my partner. But because of my lack of professionalism, we lost the client.
That evening at The BookHouse, I escort my client down the hall toward her room. If I’d stuck around to sort out the mistaken identity in San Francisco, I might not be in this mess right now. If only I hadn’t taken off that night. My list of regrets is long.
“You need anything else?” I ask Haven when we reach her room.
Shaking her head, she smiles, and it’salmosta familiar smile. It’s close to Ripley’s, but not as sassy, or as feisty, or asRipley. Another reminder of my mistakes.
“I’m all good,” Haven says, then lowers her voice. “But I’m going to have a visitor later.”
I straighten my spine. “What time?”
Her lips twitch. “Soon. Maybe a half hour.”
“I’ll still be working.” But once I’m off, Dean and I will meet with Tabitha at last.
Haven brings her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell a soul who it is then.”
I don’t ask for the man’s name. I’m pretty sure I know—thebookstore guy that Ripley went all mama bear over the other week. A smile tugs at my lips as I picture Ripley giving him hell and telling him to be good to her sister. That’s so very her. My heart thumps a little harder at the memory, but I try to shut it down.
I don’t get to enjoy those memories anymore.
Haven goes into her room, and a half hour later, I spot the bookstore guy heading down the hall carrying a canvas bag with what looks like books in it, and a bottle of wine. A bouquet of tulips too.
He flashes me a smile. “Hey there. How’s it going?”
“Great,” I lie. When I’d thought he might have had a thing for Ripley, I’d burned with jealousy. Now I envy him for a different reason.
He stops at Haven’s door. “I’m here to see Haven.”
“She mentioned it,” I say. I’m jealous he gets to see his woman. I’m jealous because he hasn’t fucked up his romantic life.
I let him in, and when Marcus, my backup, comes, I head to the lobby where Tabitha and Dean wait for me.
“Let’s get out of here,” Tabitha says. “This place is teeming with people. Mister Fox? Round of pool?”
I love pool, but I’m hardly in the mood, and it shows in my playing. Despite my track record, I miss the first shot. And the second. The next one too.
“Man, you used to be a pool shark.” Dean shakes his head sadly as he chalks the end of his pool cue.
“Easy come, easy go,” I say, shrugging, hardly caring.
We play a few more rounds, and Tabitha sinks her final shot,winning the game. Then, since I’m the guy on probation, I let Dean take the lead on the debrief.
“Listen,” he says to her, setting down the pool stick. “We wanted to chat about what went down yesterday with security—how it was handled and what we can do differently for you.”
Tabitha tilts her head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Figuring it’s best to own it, I skip the preliminaries. “The social media stuff about Ripley and me.”
“Oh. Right.” She sounds blasé.
“You texted about it in the morning,” I prompt when she doesn’t go on.
“And you apologized for it yesterday evening. But honestly…” Another pause, then she shrugs. “I don’t care.”
I’m floored. I was not expecting that. “You don’t?”
“I really don’t care what you do in your personal life. Half of Hollywood is sleeping with each other. The fact that you had a thing for a client on the set? It just kind of sounds like the stuff we make movies about. With the rumors about Chris and Haven, and now thebehind-the-scenesromance on the side, even more people are talking about the film…so thanks?”
