I glance down at the photo list again, and it’s transformed into something so much more now. It’s an open invitation to, at the very least, get to know her. The things Sam talked about earlier come flooding back into my very horny brain. Hotels. Overnight travel. Working late. Diners. For the first time in a long time, I’m happy about what the future is bringing and every second I’m about to spend with her—even if it goes nowhere.
CHAPTER6
SOME NIGHTS
FUN.
I’mthe first one in the conference room and listen to the sound of Sam talking to someone in his office. So I set up my laptop, make sure my pen has ink, and turn on my tablet. Sam teased me about being over-prepared when I started working here. He called me the Doomsday Meeting Prepper for a while. I usually stick with the boring ‘better to be prepared’ response, but I’ve always been this way. Now, Sam comes to me after meetings to get copies of my notes. I’m just thorough, I guess.
While I wait, I think about the mixer tonight, debating internally if I should go. I kind of owe Dani anyhow since I’ve been turning her down for months and still have only ever made it to one of her shows. She’s my best friend, which also means she forgives me and understands how fucked my life has been lately. I slide my phone out and shoot her a quick message saying I’ll go, but reminding her she needs to come over early and help me pick out something to wear.
“Alright, let me introduce you to the lead designer.” Sam’s voice is just outside the conference room. I shift to get a better look, but I only see cuffed sleeves and part of an arm with a tattoo. Tentacles, I think. “You rarely work directly with the designers, but this is a special case. I’ve already told her that overtime is very much on the table. You’re not on the actual payroll, and it isn’t in our contract, but I’m still going to offer you the same deal, so anything over our regular hours gets higher pay, okay?”
“Thanks, Sammy. I appreciate that.”
The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place it, which isn’t that surprising since Sam’s Rolodex contains around twenty freelancers for various positions.Rolodex, I giggle at myself for even knowing that word. It’s likely that Sam doesn’t think I know what a Rolodex is. Someday, I’m going to buy him an old card catalog cabinet and watch his head explode.
Okay, I’m laughing at jokes that make me seem old. My own jokes. I’m glad I’m going out tonight. I wonder for a moment if she’ll try to set me up with the guy from the art show a few weeks ago. I hope he’s not going.
The door opens, and I almost fall out of my chair as my phone-catching boba guy walks in the door behind Sam. It wasn’t my imagination earlier; he’s still drop-dead gorgeous. He stops as soon as he sees me and stares. The slightest hint of a smile forms at the corner of his mouth, which somehow triggers my entire face to heat up.
What the fuck is the boba guy doing here? Did he follow me? Did Kennedy do this as a joke? To fuck with me? How many years will I get for murdering her and is it worth it?
I smile back hurriedly and duck into my computer. His eyes are too damn pretty.
“Alright, Lexi, this is James Barton. Jamie, this is my top designer, Lexi Strauss.”
My brain finally catches up with the rest of the world, putting the clues together. Sam doesn’t just have photographers drop off prints unless he needs to see them in person. To him, that would be a waste of time, and hates that. Dani had already told me the photographer was around, waiting for Sam. Boba guy is the photographer. Boba guy is Dani’s pastry hook-up.
Oh. Fuck.I’m like a character in an old crime drama. I’m waiting for the detective to lay the evidence out nice and slow for the morons to understand. I’m the moron!
“You two will be working together for the next few weeks at least, more if we land the gig. So long as you’re still interested when that happens, Jamie.”
“Uhm, yeah.” We emerge from our stupor around the same time, and he finally looks away.
“We’ve kind of met,” I say, giving him only the slightest smile before looking back down at my computer. “At the coffee shop next door.”
“So you two have met already? Perfect!” Sam stops as he pulls a chair out for himself. “Have a seat, Jamie. There’s a coffee shop next door?”
Jamie drops hard into the seat in front of him like this is a twisted game of musical chairs. I’m still staring at my laptop, waiting for an escape hatch to open up so I can disappear through it.
“Yeah.” His voice is both gravelly and airy simultaneously, and it’s mesmerizing how he does that. I also can’t figure out why my heart is slamming against my rib cage like a salsa beat. “She, uhm, we—It’s not really…”
“It’s the coffee shop I’ve been going to for a year now, Sam. I bring you cupcakes from there all the time to tempt you to the sugar-filled dark side,” I say as I finally find my voice. Thankful that it’s kept its sharp, snarky edge. I hold up the cup with the logo facing him, shaking it until recognition dawns on him.
“Right, your dealer.”
Sam is smart, but Sam is also too busy for mundane details like another coffee shop in L.A. I’ve always seen some irony in a man who is too busy for insignificant details around him opening a marketing firm. Those little details are the keys to successful design. But that’s why I’m here.
I’m not sure if it’s bold or stupid, but I flick my eyes toward the new guy. Sure enough, he’s staring right at me; our eyes lock, and my brain empties. I can feel it just oozing right out of my ears as my spine turns to sponge and I melt into a puddle under the table. I just hope my mouth stays shut and I don’t ramble like an idiot.
Wait. Shit. I told a complete stranger, who can’t keep his eyes off me, that I go to a specific coffee shop every day. This is how people get unalived!Shit. Shit. Shit.What if this pastry-loving photographer is some kind of creeper? What if he’s the next Buffalo Bill, feeding people delicious treats so he can slice off their skin and make a dress out of it? I can picture my story being used by my two favorite podcasters as they tell listeners that this is absolutely not how you stay sexy and don’t get unalived!
I hope they don’t interview my mother. I should warn Dani about the news crews. I make a mental note to find another nearby coffee shop with boba. That really shouldn’t be difficult in Los Angeles. I also make another mental note to lay off the true crime podcasts for a few days.
Sam kicks off the meeting, and for the next hour, he introduces us to the client who will run our lives over the next few weeks—potentially months. This job will be bigger than any of our usual clients. Which has me wondering if Sam is taking on more than we can handle. He could sell you your own house, but he doesn’t have a grasp on the inner workings and intricacies of design.
While he keeps explaining and laying out the deliverables and dates, the reality that I am undertaking this task with someone else settles in. I have flashbacks to school projects and past jobs.
