Page 55 of A Certain Appeal
“Really?” I say. “Because the only thing that’s keeping me from wanting to throttle him is the prospect that he’s miserable, too.” Ming raises her glass in solidarity.
Jane purses his lips. “It’s not as though hemeantto hurt me.”
I scowl. Usually, Jane’s insistence on universal goodwill is endearing. On this occasion, I cannot abide it. “He may not havemeantto hurt you, but he stilldid. I’m holding it against him.”
Jane’s neutral expression wavers, and I hate myself for letting my pettiness show, even if it’s in his defense.
I settle into my seat with an overwrought huff. “And I’m going to end up saying something shitty about him and then you’ll be offended that I’ve spoken ill of someone you’re determined not to hate because you’re a goddamn angel and none of us deserve you, so you should probably tell me to shut up while you can.”
Ming chuckles. Jane smiles, and it’s the first real smile I’ve seen from him since last Tuesday.
“I love you,” he reminds me. I blow him a kiss.
Jane is teaching a piano lesson in Chelsea after lunch, and we part ways outside the restaurant. Ming links arms with me as we watch Jane’s retreating form. He’s walking tall, but his stride has none of its usual pep. “You believe all that ‘forget him’ business?”
“I believe it’s what he wants, but he’s still watching the Discovery Channel. It isn’t like what happened with Marcus,” I assure her, and we turn to stroll toward the subway. “I’m not worried or anything. He’s... disappointed?” It seems like the closest fit but doesn’t quite cover the scene I’ve been coming home to. “Disappointed and hurt.”
Ming shakes her head. “So shitty. And weird. Charles didn’t seem the type to bail.”
“I know, right?”
She slows to a halt, and we step aside to let other pedestrians pass. “You didn’t tell Jane what I said about them, did you? That he needed to be careful about how excited he was?”
“God, no! That would hardly help.”
“Good. I...” She grits her teeth. “I feel guilty suggesting that Jane might be even partially responsible for this, but if Charles got wind of the sugar-daddy bullshit—”
“Ugh. Maybe?” I try to remember the last time I heard Andrea spout off with that gross turn of phrase. Even if he did hear, it wouldn’t be like Charles to take that sort of thing seriously. Then again, I didn’t think he could be cruel or cowardly either.
“With Charles out of the picture,” says Ming, walking again, “have you had any word from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Fuckable?”
“That’s a good one. But no. At this point, I don’t even know if I’m going to see the guy again.”
“Boo,” she jeers. “You should have at least gotten the chance to knock boots once, get him out of your system.”
I don’t reply. The boots-knocking is appealing, but Darcy has gained traction in my mind; I don’t know that a quick roll could dislodge him. While New York isn’t struggling for tall-dark-and-fuckables, since I’ve cleared my social calendar to be around for Jane, Will Darcy has gained legendary status in my subconscious. I’ve started more emails to his Pemberley account than I can number but never get past the subject line. Where do I start?WTF is wrong with your best friend?Wickham, Pemberley, and unforgivable heartbreak?Re: Your mouth and the many words I’d like to feel it say against every square inch of me?
“You still drawing, at least?” she presses. “If Chicken-Shit Charlie has ruined your chances with his buddy, he’d better not eff up the rest of your life.”
“I’m still drawing.” Jane’s insisted that I not back out of working with Charles. I appreciate that he doesn’t want me to miss out on the opportunity, but the prospect makes me feel like a jerk. I’m happy with my progress on Meryton, but whenever my thoughts stray to Darcy, my design work inevitably drifts to Pemberley. I even created a new file for the material. I’ve lost hours to sketching and have to shut the file in my desk to force myself to focus on Meryton. “I need to be careful, though. Last night, Jane was streamingMarch of the Penguins. I almost converted an entire concept to a solely black and white palette.”
“Stark,” she muses. “But glam. My red number would be fine as hell in that setup.”
We arrive at the subway entrance at Bleecker. Ming squeezes myarm before releasing me. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for Jane. I’m good for lunch anytime.”
“Sure. And thank you.” I lean against the green railing around the subway entrance, then consider what gunk might be on it and straighten. “How might all this affect you?” I ask. “Meryton’s sale, if things fall apart there.”
Ming winces. “I’m scheduled withRed, White, and Boobsfor the foreseeable future, but Darlene’s so busy helping her brother with the bar, it’s only one show every few weeks. Momma Fatima—do you know her? Drag queen out in Astoria? She’s getting a show started. She’s a great host, and there’s potential there, but you know how it is.” She shrugs. “Meryton is the most consistent gig in town.”
I nod, frowning.
“You did get me started thinking about other applications for my skills, though, when we were talking to your cousin. I would be an amazing talent scout.” She twirls the length of her ponytail around her index finger. “Worth exploring, anyway.”
She’s quiet for a moment, expression thoughtful. Then she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Anyway. We’ll see. But I should be done with the green dress in the next day or so.”
“Let me know when you’d like to do the exchange and I’ll have you eating like royalty.”
“How’s Friday? I can bring the dress by your office.”
