Page 13 of Comfort Read

“All right, all right, I’ll be merciful,” Frankie says airily, waving a hand before sinking it into her bag and rummaging around. After a moment she produces what turns out to be a contract, unfolds it, tries in vain to smooth it out, passes it over to Kit, digs around in the bag another minute for a pen, passes that over, too, and then winces at Sage’s raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry! I’ve been busy, you know, trying to put out about seven thousand fires?”

“It’s fine,” Sage says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t even say anything—look, Kit. You’re sure you want to do this?” He turns the full focus of his gaze on Kit, who is immediately captured by it as though hypnotized. Is the man a mutant? Some kind of witch? Surely the human iris doesn’t come in that shade of blue! There’s a strange quality of the ocean about his eyes; Kit’s sure he could spend hours staring into them and not reach the bottom.

“Yes,” Kit says, instead of any of this. “I’m sure. I want to save Sawyer’s, and I do want to see those movies you’re making, so.” He shrugs, and flips through the contract, skimming it for anything strange. Nothing jumps out at him until he gets to the non-disclosure portion—then he remembers something, and grimaces.

Tapping the page with his pen, Kit says, “Ah, right. One quick thing. There might be someone who already knows. Allison, my number two at the bookshop—she overheard our conversation the other day, through the vents.”

“What?” Sage demands as Frankie turns a scowl on him. “But—she left! I heard you yell bye and everything!”

“She was just in the back office.” Kit shrugs apologetically. “The vent you were standing over runs right to that room, God knows why. And, uh. While I don’t doubt you heard us yell, it probably wasn’t ‘Bye,’ so much as it was ‘Bartholomew.’”

“And who the hell is Bartholomew?” Frankie looks outraged; her hand is inching towards the contract like she intends to snatch it back. “Does he know about this, too?”

“I mean, if he does, it won’t matter.” Kit glances briefly at the ceiling before admitting: “It’s only the name we gave to, uh. A draft in the bookshop? Technically it’s also the name of my college roommate, because he and the draft share a love of slamming doors, but that’s not relevant here? I assume?” He swallows, not daring to look at Sage, as he finishes, “Anyway. Nobody but Allison knows, and she’s trustworthy, I promise.”

Frankie squints at him. “Real question: Do you think I should have you put through a battery of psychological tests before we proceed?”

Kit swallows hard. “No?”

“Good answer,” Frankie says, nodding. “Smart. Thanks for the heads-up; that was smart, too.” But she continues to squint at him, as though attempting to see into his brain, for several moments before looking away.

As he flips to the back page of the contract, Kit risks a glance over at Sage. He’s not sure why he’s so nervous, but even he can’t deny the knot of tension that uncoils in his chest when he sees that Sage is smiling at him.

He signs his name with a cartoonish flourish, knowing even as his hand skitters over the page that he has no real idea what he’s doing. That, Kit thinks, is probably fine. After all, it’s not like he ever has before.

SEVEN

Kit relays the details of the meeting to Allison when he returns, on the theory that a) she already knows and b) she’ll kill him if he doesn’t. Their conversation is humbling, mostly because she immediately notices a huge flaw in the plan. It’s a problem Kit would rather not discuss with Sage; the idea of doing so makes his gut clench in a way that Kit has, until now, only experienced when encountering an unexpected clown.

However, by the time evening rolls around Kit still hasn’t thought of an alternative solve. His throat working around a hard swallow, he picks up his phone.

KIT:

Hey. Hope it’s okay to text you about this? Something just occurred to me. If we’re not starting work ’til the middle of December… This is embarrassing, but I’m pretty sure the city is looking to shut us down before then.

SAGE:

o right. meant to say—will take care of it. mtg set for Thurs at 2. you around after? can update you.

SAGE:

might b good to spend a little time together before we get cameras involved

KIT:

So you can make sure I’m not going to start flinging spaghetti at you in front of the E! network’s finest?

SAGE:

lmao

SAGE:

no

SAGE:

just trying to lower the odds on the next few months being painfully awkward