Page 44 of No Interest in Love

“Take care of you? I know. You should pay me more.”

“Bite your nail. You were doing it when we met at the Smith.”

“The Smith? I haven’t been there since—”

“Since you signed me. Yeah.”

I press a hand against my head. Still not feeling great, but at least I’m past the point of puke.

“It’s habit, I guess,” she says. “Whenever I’m on a time restraint.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. That nail should be nonexistent if that’s the case. Shay always seems like she’s rushing to dosomething.

“I wouldn’t have been biting it that day if you were on time,” she says with her well-rehearsed bossy tone.

“Iwason time! I was there before you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me you’d changed your name.”

“Shoot.” I laugh under my breath, wanting to shake my head but keeping it still until I’m dizzy-free. I knew she’d find a way to blame me.

I wasn’t late for that meeting though. I actually showed up a half hour early. Shay’s agency had contacted me and set up a meeting with Julie—who had just called me saying that she was sending her intern because she’d gotten held up. The intern was going to start taking on clients, but Julie assured me she’d be supervised and blah blah…stuff I didn’t hear after “We’d like to work with you.” Anyway, Julie had seen me in a play—at some modest playhouse that did mostly satirical stuff—and something I did had impressed her. (Probably the nude scene.) I hadn’t booked anything sinceThe Walking Stiff, and I sort of was handed that job, since my best friend cast it. So the fact that any agency wanted to meet with me was pretty big.

I sat at the bar and scoped out the place, trying to keep my legs from bouncing or my hand from rubbing the back of my neck raw. When Shay walked in, I smirked and held back my laughter. I hadn’t seen her in over a year, since the bathroom scene, and just when I needed to be professional, she plopped her rear right next to mine, not even looking up from her tablet.

“I’ll take an appletini,” she told the bartender. I remember her wearing a deep red suit jacket that matched the color of her lips. She kept pulling at it as if she wasn’t sure if it was sitting right on her chest.

After setting her tablet on the bar, she flicked her eyes to mine and smiled politely. I smirked back, bringing my glass to my lips, and watched the recognition dawn on her face.

“Oh, balls.”

“Nice to see you too.”

Her eyes rolled, and she picked her tablet up and swiveled in her seat. “Sorry, can’t catch up. I’m meeting someone.”

“Really? I better give you some space, then, so he doesn’t see me and get intimidated.”

“Please. He’d kick your tiny ass.” She snorted, turning toward me. Her legs were crossed, one hand on the back of the bar chair and the other on the countertop. She tapped her nail against the napkin under her drink, and I smirked at her stance. Shay always said the opposite of what her body language was saying. At least with me. It was fun.

So I had a little fun with her.

I shrugged my blazer off my shoulders, our eyes trained on each other. She held back a smile, shaking her head like she knew I was trying to show off the last year at the gym. (I was.) And our eyes kept on each other till she blinked.

“He’s perfect,” she said, gaze drifting to the front door. “He’s tall. Muscular. A gentleman.”

“Yeah, but is he funny?”

“Hilarious. I can’t wait to get my hands on him.” She said it like it was an insult, with her lips pressed and her head tilted. I liked it. I’d daresay that it was adorable.

She sipped on her drink and looked back at the door. After setting her glass down, she tucked her pinkie nail between her teeth.

“First time meeting him or something?”

“No,” she lied. I could tell by the way she spit out her answer.

“Does he work with you at…” I stopped and gave her outfit a once-over again. She might as well have been holding a sign that saidGo Awayto any oncoming hookup invitations. “…the real estate office?” I took a guess. Her cheeks went as red as the uncomfortable-looking blazer she wore.

“Entertainment business, actually.”

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