Franco shook his head. “I’m trying to prevent another broken heart. And a scandal. And a ruined laptop. Is your work secure?”
“Yes,” I said like a scolded child. He’d made me promise to back up my work regularly after the last incident.
“That’s good. You don’t want to lose your Pulitzer Prize because your boyfriend goesloco en el coco.” He thunked my head with his knuckle to make his point.
I pushed back from the table, feeling scummy and suddenly in need of a shower. I’d wanted to broach the subject of Franco helping Arden with his finances but not anymore.
“Thanks for lunch. I’ll get you back next time.”
Franco smiled. There was a smudge of Russian dressing on his upper lip. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, and he’d go back to work like that. “So long, Romeo.”
I grunted in response. No sooner had I boarded a train to make my way home when Liam called me.
“We need to talk about your boyfriend.”
“Liam, I’m on the subway. I’ll call you later.” I had to shout because of the background drone of machinery.
“You headed home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you there.”
Where was the goddamned fire? I hung up with Liam, still irritated by my conversation with Franco. Was he only looking out for me, or was it some weird jealousy thing? Twenty minutes later Liam was waiting for me outside my building in the Lower East Side. There was no fancy lobby or concierge at my place, just a nondescript door which led to a narrow stairwell and a small landing where my bike was chained to the metal railing. My apartment was situated above a hat shop, which meant it was usually quiet at night, rare for this neighborhood.
“How long have they been working on that?” Liam jerked his thumb at the construction project across the street. A fancy high-rise was going up about fifty feet from my balcony-slash-fire-escape. Some days the workers were there until eleven at night busting up concrete with jackhammers. It was disruptive, but it gave me an excuse to not be writing.
“Months. Not sure when it’s going to be finished.”
“You do love to slum it,” Liam said.
I decided not to read into his comment. I’d deal with a lot more bullshit if it meant being financially independent from my father. The place was mine, and the relatively inexpensive rent allowed me some wiggle room if my books fell short of my publisher’s expectations. Or if it took me longer than usual to write my next novel.
I led him into my apartment. It had great natural light coming in from the windows, and the floors were the original hardwood, recently refinished. One of the walls was exposed brick, which I thought gave the place character. It also had a stackable washer and dryer and a second bedroom that I used as an office, both of which sold me on the place initially.
Liam took me up on my offer to fix him a drink, so I mixed us both seltzer with Limoncello and a little mint as a refresher. I brought the drinks to the fire escape where Liam was appraising the workers across the street.
“I need a man who does hard labor,” Liam said. “Someone gritty with dirt underneath his fingernails who comes home sweaty and stinking, and I have to tell him to leave his dirty work boots by the door.”
“That’s… specific.”
“Or maybe a fireman. I like those suspenders they wear. I could snap it against his hardbody chest. His face would be all sooty from saving lives.”
I was scandalized by this rare glimpse into Liam’s fantasies. He was normally so reserved about such things.
“Feeling horny right now, Liam?”
“Terribly. I wish there was construction going on near my place.”
“They have a blue-collar night at Carousel. Marquis could probably introduce you to someone.”
He glared at me like I’d offended him. “That would be a short-term solution to a long-term problem.”
I didn’t know the full story because it was something Liam rarely spoke about, but some old-fashioned relation had set up Liam’s trust fund with the stipulation that he had to marry by age thirty or forfeit his piece of the Bickel pie. Liam had little more than a year left to figure it out.
“You don’t have to marry the guy,” I said, trying to be helpful.
“If only I possessed your charms,” Liam said flatly.
