Page 98 of Suddenly Dating
“Oh!” Birta put a hand to her chest. “Good Lord, Lola, you scared me. You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“What have I told you aboutsorry?” Birta said. “Darling,” she said to her agent, “this is Lola. My assistant.”
Mr.Bernstein had shining blue eyes, and the skin around them crinkled with his smile. “Your assistant is in New York, Birta. I know her, remember? She’s my daughter.”
“And a wonderful assistant she is. This is my East Beach assistant,” Birta purred. “She’s very good at taking out the trash and what not. She’s also an aspiring writer.”
“Is she?” Mr.Bernstein said, and looked at Lola with renewed interest.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Bernstein,” she said. She spared Melissa a quick glance. “Hello again,” she said.
“Hello,” Melissa said, and her gaze moved over Lola, assessing her.
“What do you write, Lola?” Mr.Bernstein asked, peering at her through stylish lenses.
Birta laughed. “It will be a delight to hear her articulate it,” she said gaily.
“Is that the bar?” Mr.Bernstein asked, now looking past Lola.
She hadn’t had a chance to tell him yet! “Can I get you a drink?” she offered.
“Mayyou get him a drink,” Birta corrected her.
“I’ll get it,” Mr.Bernstein said amicably, and moved to step around her.
“My book is a tale of revenge,” Lola blurted, hopping to stay beside him.
“Everyone likes a good revenge book,” he said absently, but he was moving quickly, homed in on the bar.
Lola suffered a brief moment of crisis. Was it rude to persist? Or should she let the man get a drink? She realized she was letting the moment slip through her fingers, so she stepped around several people to keep up with Mr.Bernstein as he made his way to the bar. “It’s about a psychopathic girl who can’t stand it when men dump her. So she kills them.”
“Hope that’s not autobiographical,” he said with a chuckle.
“Not yet,” Lola said.
“What?” he said, startled. And then he laughed. “It sounds unusual. Excuse me!” he called to the bartender.
“But it’s not all dark,” Lola said desperately. “There is some humor in it. I know that sounds strange, but it works.”
“Excuse me!” he said again, holding up his hand.
Lola glanced around, saw Nolan behind the bar.“Nolan!”she cried, perhaps too sharply, but this was an emergency. She waved at him.“Nolan!”
“Do I need to call a paramedic?” Nolan asked as he slid down the bar. He looked at Cyrus Bernstein. “What happened to the hunky hardhat?”
“The what?” Mr.Bernstein asked.
“He’s here somewhere,” Lola said quickly. “But this is Cyrus Bernstein! He is one of the top literary agents in New York, and he needs a drink.”
“Actually, I need three,” Cyrus said, and gave Nolan his order. When Nolan went off to make the drinks, Mr.Bernstein smiled at Lola. “Thank you! Birta drove us, and she is aterribledriver. I’ve needed to drink for an hour. And there she is in Germany, not a stone’s throw from the autobahn. All right, this book with the psychopathic boyfriend killer—do I have that right?”
“Yes!”
“I read some of your pages this afternoon. You’re right, the humor works.”
Now Lola’s heart stopped beating altogether. “You... you read some pages?”
