“I highly doubt an interviewer will ask that.”
“They won’t.” He pauses. “But how am I supposed to casually slip it into conversation, so it sounds like I actually know you?”
“I don’t have one.”
He blinks. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”
“I just don’t. What’s yours?” I pointed a warning finger at him.
“I can’t say,” he says, bashful.
“Oh, come on.”
“The only ones who know it are my mom, the government and my doctor’s office,” he says.
Something competitive sparks in my chest. Before I can think better of it, I lunge for the wallet sitting on the counter.
“Hey—”
I’m already flipping through cards as he reaches for my arm, trying to stop me. I lift up on my toes, holding his ID just out of reach.
“Aha!” His grip tightens around my wrist, but I’ve already seen it.
“Your middle name is Alfred?”
He exhales. Defeated. “Okay, I reject the no-middle-name stance. You will forever be Charlotte Elizabeth Tate.”
“Elizabeth?” I take two steps forward, passing back his ID.
“Elizabeth,” he repeats softly. “I always liked the name. It was my grandmother’s.”
I gently nod as our hands hover on the opposite ends of the driver’s license.
Chapter twenty-seven
Let’s Call This What It Is
Since being unemployed, I haven’t let myself be bound by time. Every minute of every hour has been tied to my cellphone, chronically glued to my ear, mirroring the same habits I unknowingly picked up from Chris. Every styling suite and press coverage company has been filling up my call log for the past three days.
All in my fancy office where my desk is my bed and my uniform is my pajamas from the night before. A black satin top with a white trim collar and matching pants—probably could pass as business casual if you squint.
With caffeine not far away from my bed, I begin to draft my first email of the day.
Subject: Photo Inquiry – Holden Strauss
As promised, please find the photo of Mr. Strauss at the acting studio in Burbank with Mr. Lafayette.
We would like the photo published today, emphasizing his dedication to the craft. If this runs as expected, I can assure you exclusive photos will be provided moving forward.
CT, Public Relations
Circling back and forth between my full name and my initials, I land on the ambiguous signature “CT” in case anyone does simple math. Within seconds,Lenz and Vinereplies back, delighted at the new partnership. Not even questioning if I am a legitimate person.
A small part of me hopes this will be traced back to Blackburn instead of me.
Fixating on the photo for a few moments longer, I scan every detail—his black leather jacket, stubble around his chin, crinkle in his eyes, fully immersed in the scene.
