Charlie stood close as I clocked the room. My gaze traveled furtively over the long, narrow dining area behind the hostess stand, over the cloth-lined candlelit tables, to the bright redEXITsign above the entrance to a narrow corridor at the back, probably where the restrooms were located. A long, polished bar was situated close to the front of the restaurant, where brightly lit shelves displaying top-notch liquors could be seen through the windows facing the street. Charlie’s Cadillac was parked at the nearest public lot a few blocksaway. Without knowing it, Sylvia had managed to pick the perfect location.
“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked.
“I’m meeting someone.” I pointed out Sylvia’s table.
The hostess gathered two menus from her station. “Right this way,” she said, gesturing for us to follow.
I dug in my heels as Charlie started after her. “Oh, we’re not together. This man just has a problem with personal space.” I pasted on a pitying smile. I could play the phony game, too.
Charlie reached for one of her menus. “I’ll just take a seat at the bar.” His eyes bored into mine as he claimed the stool closest to the end of it, offering him a clear view of Sylvia’s table.
I shed my coat and took a seat across from my agent. She had dressed for the occasion. Her hair was big, her makeup was glam, and her low-cut cheetah-print dress was brimming over with… anticipation.
“I took the liberty of ordering you a drink,” she said, pushing a glass of bubbly in front of me with her press-on nails. “Why is your police friend sitting at the bar? Why don’t you ask him to join us?” She teased her curls, craning her neck to get a look at Charlie.
“That guy is not my friend. Nick couldn’t make it,” I explained as I slugged down my drink. “He asked someone else to drive me.”
“Trouble in paradise, already?”
You could say that.“No, he’s just busy working a case.”
Sylvia leaned in, chin in hand. “Ooooh, sounds juicy! Like fodder for a book.”If she only knew.
I gestured with my empty glass for our waitress to bring another. “Look, I don’t have time to stay for dinner—”
“Appetizers then. Or maybe just dessert.”
“Appetizers,” I said, scanning the menu for something that could be brought to the table quickly. “I’ll just have a salad. And maybe some fried meatballs.” I wasn’t completely immune to the mouthwatering smells wafting through the room.
I peeked over at Charlie as Sylvia studied her menu. He sipped hisbeer, pretending not to be keeping tabs on me as he glanced up casually from his phone.
“We need to talk about this TV deal,” Sylvia said, slapping her menu closed. “I talked to the producer—”
“About that—”
“I like him, Finn. He’s got big ideas.”
“I don’t think this is the right time to go out with this book—”
“He’s got an exclusive with a major studio. He’s thinking Margot Robbie for the lead.”
“But I’m not—”
“She’d be perfect. And I’m picturing Oscar Isaac as the hot cop.”
“But—”
“You’re right,” she said at my stupefied look, “we’ll push for Ryan Gosling.”
“Sylvia!” Her head snapped up, her false lashes frozen wide. “I don’t want to pursue this deal.” A few heads around us turned. I could feel Charlie’s watchful gaze on me from across the room. I lowered my voice. “It’s my book and my story. I need time to think about it.”
Sylvia stared at me. After a long moment, she reached for her drink. “Fine. We’ll wait.”
“We will?” Sylvia had never bothered to listen to me before.
“This is normal. It’ll pass.”
“What will pass?”
