“Do not fuck this up, Brooks,” he warns. “Don’t mess with her.”
I look down at his hands on me then back up to him.
“Never,” I say, despite the fact that messing with women has sort of been my M.O.—at least up until now. I follow her onto the elevator, and the doors close behind me.
“So,” I say, leaning back up against the wall, “what’s in Jersey?” I don’t waste any time asking. I want her to stay distracted. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a Jerome Parker jersey, and I feel my knees go weak. She likes football?
“The biggest Empire fan in the world,” she says, pulling up a picture of a young boy wearing a New York Empire jersey. I smile.
“Cute kid,” I say.
“My brother,” she says, looking down at her phone with a loving smile. “He was a bit of a surprise to my parents. We’re fifteen years apart.”
“Wow,” I say. “I know a thing or two about being a surprise.” I offer her a playful smile, but the smile she gives me in return has some sadness to it, like she’s not sure if she should join in on the joke.
“Does your mom live in the city?” she asks me, and I feel myself tightening up. I clear my throat.
“Nah,” I tell her. “She has a place a few hours away, upstate.”
She nods. I hold my breath while I wait for her to ask more, but she doesn’t. It’s almost like she’s afraid to push me. Wefinally reach the garage level, and I feel her loosen up a bit as she steps out of the elevator. Our driver is already waiting for us, and I open her door for her as she climbs inside.
I climb in next to her, then I look at her.
“Wanna send me an address to plug in?” I ask. She gives me a look then nods. I tell her my number, and she sends off a text with an address that I plug into the GPS connected to my phone.
And I make a mental note to save her contact.
We drive in silence for a few minutes, and a million thoughts swirl through my mind. I could bring up the interview, but honestly, I don’t feel like talking about it. I don’t feel like talking about the total fuck-up that is my family. And I don’t feel like talking about what she’s about to do.
I want to talk about her. I want to know more.
“Did you grow up in Jersey?” I ask her.
She shakes her head.
“We lived in the city my whole life,” she says. “But, uh…my parents fell on some hard times and moved out here when my brother was first born.”
I nod slowly, taking in whatever she will give me.
“So you’re an Empire fan too?” I ask her after a few beats of silence.
“Oh yeah,” she says with a smile that makes my whole body zap. “Not as big as Cole. But pretty close.”
I smile. There’s a sweet little glint in her eye when she talks about him.
“Is it just the two of you?” I ask. She nods.
“What about you? Does your mom have any other kids?” she asks. I look at her. Ah, she’s getting a little braver now. My little journalist.
I shake my head.
“Nah. One narcissistic billionaire baby daddy was enough for her to have to deal with,” I say as a joke. But she doesn’t smile. She just stares at me.
“From what I read, it sounds like he put her through the wringer,” she says. The smile walks off my face as our eyes meet again.
“You could say that,” I say, my eyes darting toward my window. The rest of the ride is quiet until the driver pulls into a neighborhood. It’s bordered in sidewalks, and families are walking their dogs, and riding their bikes, and pushing kids in strollers. A group of teenagers is laughing, their headphones around their necks as they shovel candy into their mouths.
The houses all look the same but are different colors. Minivans and small SUVs line the driveways, and I feel my chest loosen a little bit at the sight of it all.
