Page 46 of Without You

“Any of those thoughts center around me or what we’re going to have for dinner? I’m starving but don’t have the energy to cook. Should I pick up some burgers or something?”

“I take it we’re having dinner together?”

“Of course we are.”

I grin, settling into the couch, feeling the warmth of his asking me to share dinner with him but not really asking me wash over me. “You really have no idea how to ask someone on a date, do you?”

His answering chuckle tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about, but also that he likely doesn’t care. “Who said anything about a date? I just wondered if you were hungry and asked if you wanted to have burgers tonight.”

“Oh, well in that case, sure.”

“So… burgers? That sound good to you or want me to pick up something else?” he asks.

I bite my bottom lip to stop from laughing. “What kind of person do you take me for? I would never say no to burgers.”

“Good answer. Anything you won’t eat on ‘em?”

“Nope. Surprise me.”

“You got it.”

Twenty minutes later, Brody and I are sitting in my living room with takeout containers from a local burger joint that’s easily the best burger place in the entire state of Tennessee. When he arrived, he laid out two Styrofoam containers filled with burgers and fries and another with onion rings. He told me to choose which one I wanted and he would eat the other.

“Whose vehicles do you have now?”

“What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. Who’s going to be driving it around in a video after you’re done with it? Or aren’t you allowed to say?”

“Each one is different.”

“How so?”

“So basically, I signed a contract with the production company that I’m guaranteed the work. There’s more to it, obviously, but that’s the gist of it.” He takes a huge bite of his mushroom and Swiss burger, chews, swallows, and washes it down with some Coke. “Sorry about that, like I said, I’m starving.”

“It’s fine,” I say, taking a bite of my own burger. It’s a BBQ bacon burger and so good I think I could eat two. “No need to apologize to me about eating.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Right. Anyway, each artist has their own lawyers and requirements, which means sometimes I need to sign off on other contracts.” He shrugs, taking another bite.

“And some of the artists make you sign an NDA, I assume?”

He swallows then leans back, his arm stretched across the basic tan couch that’s surprisingly comfortable. I took a seat to the side of him in the matching oversized chair.

“Yeah. I can’t blame ‘em though, ya know? Everyone wants to talk about ‘em like they know something. Like they’re best friends.”

“Very true.”

“You know five vehicles were delivered today. Three of those I signed NDAs for. The other two, I honestly don’t even know who they’re for. Eric just told me he’d let me know.”

“Bummer. That means you can’t tell me anything.”

“Nope.”

“And I can’t get it out of you?”

Another lip twitch and this time he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “How are you planning on trying to get information from me?”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got ideas.” I dip a french fry in ketchup and shove the entire thing in my mouth.

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