Page 72 of A Certain Appeal
“Hold on.” I reach for my bag, pulling out my Meryton folder. Among the pages is the print for my playing card. I hand it to her as I flip through the drawings, trying to find the best place to start. “Here’s this, by the way.”
“What—ohmigod! You’re anaughtykitten! Holy hell, woman. That’s awesome. What’s it from?”
I explain the cards and pasties and how I get a commission, mostly to brace myself for sharing the folder. I don’t doubt she recognizes it as stalling, though I appreciate that she lets me get away with it.
“Has your fellow seen this?” She hands back the photo.
Part of me feels like I should correct her for the “your fellow” line, but I enjoy hearing it too much. “Yes. Though not this large. He bought a deck of cards the first time he came to the show.”
“We’re coming to Saturday’s show then, obviously.”
“There’s a two-top with your names on it.”
“Bueno. Now, gimme that.” She reaches for the folder. “I want to bear witness to your triumphant return to the world of interior design.”
“Easy with the hyperbole,” I say, passing the file. “Nothing’s been decided yet.”
“Whatever.” Chloe smiles faintly as she opens the file, revealing a recent doodling of the club. “This...” Her voice trails off in consideration. Her smile broadens. “This is your Meryton?”
“Yeah.”
She props her elbow on the arm of her chair, chin in hand as she pores over the file. My butterflies, usually nocturnal, flutter anxiously as I watch her turn page after page.
“Lizard...” Chloe studies a rendering inspired by ablack-and-gold wallpaper pattern featuring items from the Met’s grand entry hall. Feathery wings freeze in anticipation, dispersing as a huge smile spreads across her face. “This isgorgeous.”
She opens a page I’ve folded over on itself, studying it for a moment before turning the paper my way; it’s an older sketch of Pemberley. Must have gotten in with the Meryton stuff by mistake. “What’s this?”
“Pemberley. It’s a space Darcy owns.”
“Here?”
At my nod, she leans back, eyebrows high. “So Jane’s with the guy who is buying the club, and you’re having coat-check make-outs with a guy who already owns New York real estate?”
“Darcy inherited the venue. It’s a family thing.”
“Is that awaterfeature?”
“Yup. I have a whole other file on Pemberley. The space isbeyondstunning. Actually, since Darcy gave me his letter, I’ve devoted more time to Pemberley than Meryton.
“Anyway.” I clap my hands together like a schoolmarm commanding attention. “I’ve dominated the conversation long enough. How are things with you? How’s work?”
Chloe lights up. She built her business entirely on her own, and it means everything to her. “Grueling. And great. I have two shoots lined up this week and will be completely at your mercy as to how to get to either of them. One’s in Midtown, the other’s a loft in Tribeca, I think? Or FiDi? That giant white mall thing totally disoriented me last time, so whatever you can do to get me situated will be appreciated.”
“Can do.”
We finish our drinks and return our glassware to the bar, then head out through the lobby. The hotel is a bit west of my normal stomping grounds, but we make a right outside the double doors withGales’s knife shop as our destination. On the way, I find the building where Chloe’s first gig is taking place, and we stake out a few to-go restaurants nearby, which she says is critical.
“I never trust anyone to provide good food.” She points at a craft services tent near a street that’s been blocked off for filming. It’s a constant in New York; I’m so used to seeing the shooting schedules taped on lampposts that I barely notice them anymore. We meet up with Gales, who is the proud owner of two new knives, and Chloe and I do our best to greet “Storm Cloud” and “Sky Piercer” with suitable reverence. Then we’re off to the subway, buying MetroCards and planning our route to Greenpoint, where Gales is to be reunited with his favorite pizza at Paulie Gee’s.
An hour later, we’re enjoying the hot-honey-and-sausage-laden Hellboy when my watch buzzes with a text. Normally, I’d let it go, but the one that follows, and the one after, get my attention.
J:!!?!?!?
CHARLES IS AT THE BAR
BENNET!
“Oh,whoa.” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Chloe and Gales look up from their pizza. “Sorry. Things just got interesting.” I get my phone and pull up Jane’s number. “Excuse me.”
