“Um-hum.”
“Why’s that?”
He glanced at her sideways. The moon illuminated her face with a silver twinkle, and her beauty distracted him for a second. His gaze dropped to his feet. “Because I’m done.”
“With what?”
“Some seventeen-year-old girl once told me that when I was done with those—and I quote—‘cheap thrills,’ she’d finally go watch my work.” He looked up. “I’d like her to know that I’m done now, and I’d love to take her to my premiere someday.”
She smiled. “Why would you listen to some silly teen?”
“Because she’s my best friend. And she’s not silly at all. She has the ability to follow her passion anywhere, anytime.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her temple. “I’ve always envied that about you, Carolina.”
She ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
“What?”
Her lips twisted. “Dad’s coercing me to work for him again, and I think I’m gonna have to say yes.”
“What?! Why?”
She looked away. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” He got down on his feet and tilted her face in his direction. “That job made you miserable. You swore you’d never work as an architect again. What the fuck happened? Do you need money? Is that what it is? Are you in trouble or something?”
“No. No, it’s not like that.” She came down from the banister. “Look, if I told you why I needed the money, you’d want to help, and after a very charming conversation with Dad, I realized I needed to do this one on my own. For myself. That’s all.”
He stared at her for a second, then he got a pen and his checkbook from the pocket of his suit jacket. “How much do you need?”
“God! What did I just say?”
“Fine.” He leaned over the table, scribbled her name down on a check, and handed it to her. “Here. Put your number and cash it out any time you want.”
She stared at the piece of paper for a second. “A blank check? Seriously? You think I’m just gonna take that? No fuckin’ way.”
He held her purse, placed the check inside, and tossed it back on the chair. “Yes, you’re taking it,” he said with an authoritative tone as he took a seat. “How’s your novel coming?”
Filling her chest with air, she sat on the opposite chair and looked away. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you right now.”
“You stopped writing, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she uttered. “I really don’t need you, too, lecturing me on how I’m wasting…” She trailed off when James opened the glass door.
Mike apologized to her for the interruption. “Yes, James?”
“Your guests are asking about you.” He smiled at her. “Hi. I’m James Bailey, Mike’s manager.” He stuck his hand out.
“Maggie Dawson,” she yelled over the music, shaking his hand. Then she looked back at Mike. “You should get back to your friends.”
He rose. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
“In a while. I need some air. You go ahead.”
“Okay. I’ll return with gifts.” He winked.
Scene 6
Maggie
