“Exactly.”
It loosens something for us to agree on this one tiny point. I feel a fondness seeping back in and his smile is even easier now. The waiter stops at our table to take our orders, and we let go of each other’s hand, but once he’s gone, we immediately look back to each other.
“There’s so much good in all of this,” he says quietly. “I like Features, I like you. I hate the situation, but I sort of like being at P&D.”
“I’m glad. And I like you, too.”
“I had a really good time that night,” he says, and he leans in, taking my hand again. “I don’t think I ever got to tell you that.”
This makes me laugh, and his eyes widen in surprise and amusement at the sound of it. “I had an inkling.”
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry if it felt underhanded that I volunteered to take Dan.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I like Dan, and we’ve worked well together in the past, but your list needs it more.”
His eyebrow twitches and I realize how unfiltered that came out. What is it about Carter that brings out my competitive side so immediately?
“I really didn’t mean that to sound rude,” I say, wanting him to believe me. “I’m just being honest. I think you can sign him, easily. With Dan, you just need to call him up and ask him what he’s looking for.”
He lets go of my hand to take a quick sip of water, shaking his head. With the loss of contact, the intimacy of the vibe at the table is immediately flipped on its head. “Dan will talk about it when he’s ready,” he says. “I know a bit about how he works. He wants to feel like he’s in control, and calling him will just make me seem pushy.”
Carter has amazing instincts, but right now he’s wrong. He just is. Dan likes being chased a little. I’ve worked with him and I know: he doesn’t like to be the one making calls, he wants to be the one choosing whether or not to answer.
“I just really think—”
“Christ, Evie, just let me do my job, okay?” he snaps.
I open my mouth, and a few garbled sounds come out before I mumble a quiet “Sure, of course.”
I can see immediately that he regrets his tone. But it’s too late. The tension is back with a vengeance.
Our food comes, and we bend to our plates, eating in silence.
Carter puts his fork down after a few bites, leaning in. “Evie . . .”
“No, seriously, it’s okay.” I put on my best smile, because I really don’t want him to feel micromanaged by me. This is an impossible situation: If I help him, I could lose a job. If he doesn’t fight for a better list, he could. And there is basically no way we can solve this with kissing, no matter how much I’d like to. “You’re right. I was being pushy. You do your thing.”
Carter nods, and I decide to move on. “Now, let’s talk about that retreat.”
? ? ?
Dinner turned out as well as could be hoped. We have a solid plan for the event in January, and we each have a list of piddly homework items we need to find time for before we meet up again. As we walk out, one comment leads to another and Carter is telling me a story about how Michael got Steph a kinky cast-making kit for their anniversary so they could craft a mold of his penis and build her a toy for whenever she travels. Instead, she thought he was subtly telling her he had cancer and had found a way for her to remember him when he was gone.
I laugh so hard Carter wraps his hand around my forearm and keeps it there for a moment to make sure I’m steady. I hate how funny he is, and I hate how much I want him to keep touching me. I hate this entire situation.
We pull apart and keep walking away from Sunset, up Doheny. It’s warm, but not with the cloying death haze of early October. I look over at him as he takes a deep, calming breath.
“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” I say.
He looks up at the sky. “I wonder whether I’ll ever live somewhere where I can see all the stars.”
“That’s what vacations are for.”
He grins. “Vacation? Was ist das?”
This makes me laugh. “I know. I guess we can’t really expect much of that this year.”
He gives me a smile that’s both sweet and a little sad, and then shakes himself out of it. Pointing up the hill, he says, “I live just a few blocks up.”
I look over his shoulder and off in that direction. His apartment is that way.
His bed.
I’ve never been to his place. I mean, of course I haven’t: we had a relationship for a weekend, if that. Even though it feels like a much bigger event in my romantic life than it actually was. I can’t decide if that’s internally meaningful in a rallying Don’t give up way, or in a pathetic This is the sad state of your romantic landscape way.
Regardless, he hasn’t said this as a lead-up to asking whether I want to walk up there with him, because we both know there’s no way that can happen, even if we both clearly grapple with the unsaid: Under other circumstances we would totally be banging there tonight. And given what I know—
1. We’re both stressed out of our minds
2. Carter is fun and funny
3. Carter has a great penis
—the sex would undoubtedly be stellar.
But instead, we exchange a lingering hug and part ways on the sidewalk. Watching him disappear up the tree-shrouded hill, I can’t decide if tonight was a step forward or sideways. Should I be grateful for sideways? Carter sparks these enormous emotions in me—most of them good, and then I resent the situation all over again—but then he gets defensive and weird, and I basically want to strangle him. All we can do is try to make the best of things. I like Carter, but simply put: neither of us is doing this job because we like coming in second. Signing Adam Elliott and Sarah Hill was a huge coup for me, and Carter’s got to be feeling the pressure. Of course he wants to land Dan. Maybe I should try to show a little more empathy and eventually, we might even find a way to be friends.
As if the universe finds this all completely hilarious, just as I climb into my car my phone chimes with an email from a VIP sender. It’s from Dave Cyrus, my entertainment contact at the Hollywood Vine.
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 9:42 PM
From: Dave Cyrus
To: Evelyn Abbey
Subject: Dan Printz
Evie,
Reaching out to hear if Dan is headed onto your list. That’s the buzz, at least. Likely to run with something either way, but if you know something, I’d like to wait for the scoop and run a Hot Buzz feature when he signs on. Let me know.
Dave
With a groan, I let my head fall back against the headrest, closing my eyes. This is huge. Dave has heard from somewhere that Dan is signing with me. A Hot Buzz feature means print edition of the monthly magazine—with the best circulation of any trade journal in the industry—as well as a huge spread in the online edition. It would be great promo for Dan, and an amazing carrot to dangle to get him to join P&D.
I am ninety-eight percent positive I could call Dan right now, find out what he’s thinking he’s going to do, and convince him to join my list.
But I can’t.
Because I am not a backstabbing monster.