“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh. I knew he’d take it and run. “I get it.”
“No, I mean, this is great.” He sits back in an arrogant pose. “I knew you’d recognize my innate superiority eventually, but you came around so soon.”
“That would make it the first time,” I shoot back, and he laughs.
“You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”
“Nope.” I grin. “You have to admit, as bad hook-ups go, ours takes the . . . cronut.”
Jake laughs, grinning back at me. “Hey, if I’m going to do anything, I go all out. And if I’m going to be a shitty anecdote for you, I’m going to damn well be the shittiest date you’ve ever been on.”
I laugh. God, this guy is impossible.
And impossibly sexy. Damn, with that smile, and those eyes, it’s almost enough to make a girl try for a repeat performance—
No! Bad Lizzie!
I take another gulp of wine. “But seriously, how do you do it? I mean, I remember you always had a skill for tracking down impossible things, you talked about it all those years ago. But some of the stuff I asked for was ridiculous, like the prop necklace from Bring Me the Stars. That’s an iconic piece, but it hasn’t been seen in forty years.”
Jake clears his throat. “About that . . . when I said I got everything, I meant everything in the realm of human possibility. The necklace is even beyond my ample talents. Sorry.”
“Oh.” I deflate a little. “That’s OK. I mean, I knew it was a long shot. Still, there’s so much history around it. You know the stories, right?”
Jake frowns. “It was custom made for the movie by Harry Winston, wasn’t it?”
I nod eagerly. “They made two versions: one was costume gemstones for the movie, but then the producer had them make a real version with diamonds to give to the lead actress, Moira Hayes. Rumor has it, they were having a torrid affair. They died in a car crash together, went right off Mulholland Drive on the way to an Oscars party. Everyone said the movie was cursed.”
I love scandals from old Hollywood. They’re somehow way more glamorous than what Ben and Jen and whatever the Kardashians are up to right now.
“Now there’s karma for you.” Jake whistles. “Guess he should have kept it in his pants.”
I pause. “I’d have thought you would be cheering him on. Another notch on the bedpost, and all that.”
Jake shakes his head. “Hell no. I may not buy into all your romance bullshit, but basic human decency doesn’t require roses. No cheating, no lying, no games.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Be honest, and nobody gets hurt.”
“Oh.” I have to say I’m surprised. And weirdly turned on right now. Maybe Jake Weston isn’t the Grade A asshole I thought.
Then his eyes go to check out the stacked blonde sashaying past, and I reassess. Grade B, perhaps.
“Anyway, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get a bite on the necklace.” Jake drags his eyes back to me. “But I did find someone who worked on the movie, Max Danforth. He’s in his eighties now, out in LA still. He has a bunch of props and materials from the shoot, I’m trading calls with his assistant to see what we could use.”
“Are you kidding?” I stare at him, amazed. “That’s incredible! The movie was such a seminal work, I feel like if we’re going to make any commentary on shifting gender norms, we need something from that era, and Bring Me the Stars was the start of a whole shift in . . .” I trail off. Jake is looking at me strangely.
“What?” I ask, self-conscious. “Do I have wine teeth already?”
“No, I just . . .” Jake pauses, tilting his head. “You really love this stuff, don’t you.”
“Yes,” I say emphatically. “Ever since I was a kid. Movies like this, they show us a different version of the world. They push culture on, and break barriers down, and give us a language to relate to each other. It took me forever to convince Morgan to let me stage this show, but if I can just make it work, I know, it’s going to be amazing.”
“Well, alright then.” Jake lifts his glass and taps it to mine. “To Old Hollywood.”
“To Old—”
I stop dead. “No, no, no . . .” I whimper, seeing someone across the room. Jake turns. “Don’t look!” I hiss at him, then sink lower in my seat, trying to hide out of sight. “Maybe he won’t see me. Maybe he won’t . . .”
“Lizzie!”
Drat!
I haul myself upright and paste on a smile as Todd waves and heads over. My ex-boyfriend Todd. The man who shredded my heart like Guy Fieri with a butt of pulled pork. The guy I haven’t seen since he left me in the dust for the blond nymph of a woman he’s dragging along behind him.
“Kill me now,” I murmur to Jake. “Seriously. Just stick that fork right in my throat. If you do it hard enough, you’ll hit an artery, right?”
He looks totally confused, but before I can explain, Todd arrives at the table.
“Well, well,” he says good-naturedly. “Long time no see.”
Long time no see? That’s the best he can come up with after pulverizing my heart and leaving me in a Tinder desert?
“Hey Todd,” I say breezily, like I run into evil exes all the fucking time. “How’s it going?”
“Things are great,” he says firmly. He pulls the girl in front of him like he’s holding up a trophy. “Especially since Harmony and I just got engaged last night!”
Harmony gives me a simpering smile, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and I have the urge to pick up my half-eaten plate of spaghetti and dump it over her perfectly styled head.
“Wow!” I gasp, feigning excitement. “How wonderful for you both! I mean, you guys clearly deserve each other!”
“Thank you,” he says, staring into Harmony’s eyes like he wants to disappear.
“This is Jake Weston,” I say, waiting for Todd to come back to earth.
“Hey man,” Todd says coolly, nodding his head at Jake, who just stares at him silently. “Well, we should be going,” Todd continues, wrapping an arm around Harmony and squeezing her tight.
“We’re on our way to Tiffany’s!” Harmony squeals, and I realize that I really may throw up if they don’t leave soon.
I nod wordlessly and smile. I don’t trust myself enough in this moment to actually open my mouth and speak. God knows what might come out.
“It was great running into you, Lizzie,” Todd says, reaching out and briefly squeezing my shoulder. “You’re looking very . . . healthy,” he says with a smirk, taking in my half eaten plate of food before turning around and heading for the door, his arms wrapped around Harmony’s shoulders.
I slide horizontal in the booth until I’m laying flat, staring at the underside of the table.
“Lizzie?” Jake’s voice comes, but it’s kind of hard to hear through the swirling rage of anger and self-loathing and misery and general doomsday despair.
Healthy.
The bastard called me healthy! And he sure doesn’t mean it looks like I’ve been hitting the gym, either.
SUPER RAT.
12
Lizzie