Page 75 of Forget About Me

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not.” Ben laughs, chucking the pillow back.

Kate rolls her eyes at them. “Do you train cats?”

I scratch her Persian under the chin. “I haven’t even tried. I’ve heard that some people train cats to use the toilet, but come on. It’s a cat. Doing what the heck they want is part of their charm.”

She gathers hers onto her lap. “That’s right. Frankie here is perfect just as he is.” She uses the babytalk voice that most owners use with their pets. “Though it would be nice if he’d go for a run with me.”

“He could lose a little weight.”

Kate gasps and covers his ears. “Don’t make him feel bad. He’s just big-boned.”

At my expression, she drops her hands. “I know, I know. Typical pet owner, I’m sure. My baby can do no wrong—ow!” she yelps when he starts kneading her thigh with his claws out.

Grabbing a toy from the floor, I lure him off her lap. She laughs as she rubs her leg. “You can train cats, see?”

Still dangling the fake mouse on a string for Frankie to swat at, I ask her about her work.

“Oh, I just started a new job at a nonprofit.” Her smile is huge. “We help women create their own businesses.”

“Really?” That has my ears perking up.

“Yeah.” She kicks off her shoes and sits cross-legged so she can face me fully. “I’m supposed to be focusing on our SRI funds—socially responsible investing funds. That’s my background—working with funds, anyway. The socially responsible part is new to me. Anyway, right now, the company only works with women in third world countries, giving them microloans so they can start small businesses that make a huge difference in their communities. Even more important, it empowers the women themselves.”

She goes on to explain how she’d like to also support women in this country, women living in poverty because their jobs have moved overseas or been lost to automation. Even though I’d love to get some help myself, I can’t keep from yawning.

Kate laughs. “I know, I talk too much, and this stuff can be boring.”

“No, I’m sorry.” I wave a hand in the air. “It’s me. I’m burning the candle at both ends these days, going from the early shift at the vet to training clients in the afternoon and evening, and then that guy”—I point at Ben, who is now looking over Kate’s CD and album collection with Will—“keeps me up half the night.”

My cheeks heat. I can’t believe I just said that to a girl a hardly know.

She sighs, her eyes on her own guy. “It’s worth it, though.”

From the look on her face, she’s as in love with Will as I am with Ben.

She hops up. “Ben, time to take this poor woman home. We women have work in the morning, unlike you slacker actors.”

Will chases Kate around the room as Ben pulls me up to my feet, half yawning, half laughing. Goodbyes go by in a tired blur. Once my butt hits the car seat and my skull the headrest, I can’t keep my eyes open.

The next thing I know, Ben’s waking me with a kiss. A kiss that not only has me purring with desire, it lights up the tiger in me. Suddenly I can’t wait to get this man inside.

Who needs sleep, anyway?

BEN

Kirk’s timing isn’t always good, but this time he’s spot on. At least where he’s concerned. And me too, if I’m honest. Monday, just when I was going a bit crazy with boredom and right after my subletter called to let me know that he wasn’t going to stay at my place for the fall after all, Kirk called with an offer I really couldn’t refuse.

Which is why, a few days later, I’m gazing lovingly at a girl who I just met a couple hours ago, while we pretend to stretch in front of a statue of Paul Revere. Ironically, shooting this running shoe campaign is probably going to mean I won’t have time to run today.

I’m used to being a clothes hanger, but putting the focus on shoes is strangely awkward. The angles are all different. On top of that, I can’t rely on the broody vibe I’ve been using for years for CK. I have to be all chipper and flirty for this thing, and I’m not sure I have it in me.

In fact, I’m not really sure why they wanted me for this. It wasn’t supposed to be me. Another client of Kirk’s who’d recently relocated to New York booked this shoot, but the guy found out he had meningitis the day before he was supposed to fly up to Boston. In the scramble to replace him, Kirk suggested me. According to him they were practically drooling at the prospect. But now, the photographer’s growling because there’s no chemistry between me and the model I’m working with.

She’s cute and very nice, but she is super chatty and her high-pitched nasal voice is unbelievably grating. Still, I’ve got to dig deep and make this work. I said I’d do it, this shoot alone will cover my rent for the next couple of months, and there’s a possibility of more to come. If only I can remember how to be a fucking model.

The lighting guy finishes adjusting whatever he needed to adjust and Don the grumpy shooter is back. “Alright, Ben. Let’s see if you can look like you want nothing more than to tie Court’s shoes.”

Not Courtney, Court. I don’t know why, but even her nickname is driving me up a wall. “No problem, Don.”

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