Page 61 of So Not My Thing
I drew my head back like I’d smelled something bad. “We’re not dating.”
“He takes you places and buys you meals and you spend two to three days a week together. You’re dating.”
“You’re high,” I said. “He’s getting my professional opinion on stuff.”
“So you guys only talk about business, nothing else?”
“Yes.” Except...no. Our conversations ranged all over the place. About his neighborhood growing up, his siblings, his family. About what it had been like in Hollywood. He’d asked me questions about college and work and growing up in the Bywater. But that was normal small talk.
“I don’t believe you.”
I couldn’t argue because she was right about having non-business conversations. But it wasn’t what she thought. “I think I’d know if I was dating someone.”
“Yeah? What would be different with Miles that is not happening right now?”
“I’m pretty sure there would be more making out,” I snapped.
“Ooh,” she said, drawing her head back like I’d swiped at her. “Kitty has claws. You sound frustrated that there’s no kissing.”
“No, I’m frustrated by your questions. There’s nothing going on. I don’t want there to be anything going on. I’m giving him advice when he asks for it so that when his place opens, you and I are living over somewhere cool.”
Chloe’s expression softened. “Okay, I accept that you aren’t dating. But are you sure that’s how you want it?”
“Definitely.”
She sighed. “He is fine. So fine.” I agreed but knew better than to admit it aloud. “And it seems to me that what you guys are is friends, pre-benefits, but if you’re happy, then okay.”
“It’s not about happy or not happy. It’s about business.”
Chloe’s face was completely unimpressed. “You should be happy.”
“I am. It’s general happiness, not because of Miles.”
“Good. Then it won’t bother you when I show you this interesting item that ran in the paper today.” She swiped on her phone a few times and handed it to me. It was an article entitled “Arts Benefit Draws Star-Studded Crowd.” The picture showed Miles and a blonde I’d seen him with in a few paparazzi photos standing in front of one of those backdrops with the charity’s logo all over it. The caption read “Singer Miles Crowe and model Anneke Jansen.” He wore a black suit, and she was in a drapey silver mini-dress and sky-high heels. They made a striking couple.
I felt sick, and I hated it. The picture was a stark reminder that he lived a life totally different than mine, and I needed to remember that I didn’t fit into it.
“They look good,” I said, handing the phone back to her and trying to keep my face neutral.
“Uh huh.” Chloe’s tone dripped with doubt. “That’s it? No further comment?”
“There’s nothing to say. We’re not dating. He’s my tenant.”
“All right, I believe you.” But as she climbed to her feet and headed down the hallway to her bedroom, I heard her singing a snippet of Miles’s song, “Sweet Sunshine,” the one that served as my wakeup alarm.
Well, it was a good song.
Whatever. Miles would get the Turnaround open, and I would retreat completely, other than depositing his rent checks.
Until then, he’d get the same great service all my clients got.
It was just good business, after all.
