Page 40 of The Fate Factor

I look up to see Em’s mouth curl up on one side, slowly like a cartoon villain.

“What?”

“Your face.”

“What about my face?”

“You’re sleeping with her. Damn, I thought sitting on a bar stool in your condition was a bad idea, but that has to be in the ‘no’ column in your discharge instructions.”

“I amnotsleeping with her.”What the hell had my face been doing? I gesture to my crutches to sell my story. Which is completely true and doesn’t need much selling. “I’m not really up to dating right now, Em.”

She gasps. “Jameson Bishop, think of your fans!”

“Knock it off.” I say it casually but it feels like there’s a spotlight suddenly shining on me.

“Whatever,” Em says. “You always get the cute ones first, Jamie. Maybe that bruise on your face will put us on an even playing field.”

“You wish,” I shoot back. “And it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, Jamie?” Wes asks. “I mean, you have enough friends to keep you company, so if you’re not trying to sleep with her…” His eyes narrow as if he’s reading something on my face. “Christ, you want her to do it again, don’t you?”

“It has nothing to do with that,” I snap, because lying to Wes is easier than winning an argument with him. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot, and choosing my battles is pretty key to our working relationship.

The only problem with that is I’m a shit liar, and Wes knows it. “Bull shit,” he says. “I know how much you believe all this nonsense. There’s no other reason she would be here.”

I turn on my stool and grab my crutches. “This really isn’t any of your business, Wes.”

That was the wrong choice of words. His nostrils flare like a bull. “I think it is my business if it has to do withthisbusiness. Do you remember what my dad told you when he picked you up from County that night, Jamie?”

I hate when Wes brings up that night like it’s some pivotal moment from a TV drama. The screw-up gets scared straight. For the record, Wes was at that party too. It was sheer luck he ditched out before it got busted up. I’ve never seen anyone so relieved as Wes’s dad when he got downtown and found out it was just “Laura’s boy” sitting in a cement cell, not his real son.

“I remember that night well,” I say. “Thanks.”

He continues anyway. “He said if you’ve always got your head in the clouds, you’re bound to step in some shit. It’s time to be a grown up, Jamie. We don’t make business decisions this way anymore. Not while I’m around.” With that, he spins on his heel and takes off for his office.

At least this time there’s no confusing things. I’ve definitely just made things worse.

thirteen

Noel

“Isthisoneadate?” Kate asks. “Because this one feels like a date.”

I set my phone on the bathroom counter so I can still see her while I gather my hair into a ponytail. Then drop it. Then gather it again. My hands are clumsy. Not exactly shaking, but I wouldn’t trust myself with a paint brush at the moment either.

“It’s not a date,” I say, scooping my hair again.

“Right. I should have known by how casual you’re being about it.”

“The problem—” I explain around the hair elastic between my teeth, “—is that I would know how to act if it were a date.” I drop my hair again, my shoulders sagging. “But advice on hanging outwith a guy who hopes you’ll give him a psychic business tip, but who also might be your soulmate is surprisingly sparse.”

Kate hums. “Did you check Reddit?”

“First.”

“Damn, where’s Dear Abby when you need her?”

“Dead, I think.”

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