There was music, but it was live music and instrumental with no vocals. It made me imagine being decked out in pearls with lace gloves. It was the sort of music that told everybody to bring their fancy laughs, not just the usual crap you busted out for good internet memes and funny gifs. No double chins while breathing out your nose unenthusiastically here, folks. This was where you brought your best moves and your fanciest laughs. It was the kind of party where you, under no circumstances, no matter what would even consider reaching back to scratch yourself in an undignified way. Instead, you’d shimmy, shake, and find something to discreetly rub yourself against, because admitting you had normal bodily functions would get you kicked out of the cool kid’s club.

  While I was still far enough away from the party that I was sure nobody would hear me, I gave my sophisticated laugh a few trial runs. I put my fingertips to my chest and tried to imagine my hedge fund manager had just told me a ridiculous story about how he almost had to fly commercial and suffer through what they considered “service” in first-class. I threw my head back and did a sort of, hau hau hau. It still didn’t feel snooty enough, so I lifted my free arm and let my wrist go limp so my hand just kind of flopped there uselessly like a t-rex’s arm. I tried the laugh again. Better.

  “Wow,” a woman said. “That’s really good. Let me guess, practicing your rich person laugh?”

  I jumped a little in surprise. I apparently hadn’t done a good enough job of scouting the area. “Thank you,” I said. “I was just—”

  “It’s okay. I’m pretty sure it’s a more normal reaction to coming to these things for the first time than you’d think.” She was smiling. It was a kind smile—the type of smile that made me feel like I was already friends with her. “I’m Hailey, by the way, and I’ve only been coming to this kind of party for a couple years now. I totally get how it seems at first.”

  I widened my eyes a little. “Oh my God! I know you! From the—the show, right? The cooking show? Hailey Chamberson.”

  She smirked. “Yep. The Bubbly Baker.”

  I lowered my voice and tried to look less excited. “I’m sorry. You probably hate getting gushed all over by people who recognize you.”

  “It’s completely okay. I’m just the perfect amount of recognized. I don’t get it everywhere I go, so when somebody does recognize me, it’s a nice surprise. Don’t even apologize, seriously.”

  “Then, will you sign my boob?” I asked.

  Hailey opened her mouth to respond but looked a little confused.

  I blurted out a laugh. “I’m sorry. My sense of humor is terrible. Not funny at all, and totally inappropriate.”

  She smiled. “If you met my husband, you’d understand that I’ve been desensitized to inappropriate humor from about five minutes after I met him. I also happen to enjoy it, so no apology necessary.”

  “This is going to sound kind of stalker-ish, but I think I know him. I mean, I don’t know him. But I saw you guys on TV once. Bruce, right?”

  “Close. Bruce is his twin. My husband is William.”

  “Is he here?”

  “No. It probably wouldn’t sound so civilized over there if he were.” Hailey looked toward the party, which we were still very much on the outskirts of. “What brings you here? Do you work for a publisher?”

  “Oh, no. I’m just, sort of, friends with Harry Barnidge. What about you?”

  “I wrote a cookbook slash autobiography. Harry happens to be my agent. He said it would be good for me to show up to a few of these ‘pitch parties,’ as he calls them, before my own in a few months.”

  “Can I ask you something a little weird?”

  “Sure?”

  I licked my lips and leaned a little closer. “Is Harry the kind of man who you might catch… Well, I don’t know the polite way to phrase it. Buggering the maid?”

  Hailey burst out a surprised laugh. “Buggering?”

  I grinned. “I don’t know. British phrases always seem a little more polite. Boning? Doing the deed? Burying his sausage in the pepper mill?”

  “Burying his—” Hailey shook her head slightly and smirked. “To answer your question, no. Not really. For a guy in his position, he’s actually pretty low key. When you first meet him, you’d probably think he’s super social and all that, but he’s a lot more of a loner than he lets on. Very thoughtful and prone to bouts of brooding. I heard he was more of a playboy a year or two back, but everyone says he’s changed. Nobody seems to know why, though.”

  “I see.”

  Hailey knuckled my arm and gave me a reassuring smile. “If he invited you here, it’s probably because he likes you. That’s my opinion, at least. Anyway, I’ve got to go mingle and make sure people know I have a book in the works. But if things keep going well with Harry, I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

  Once Hailey left, I had no choice but to try to gather my courage. The thought of just waltzing into the fancy party and wandering around until I found Harry was a little terrifying. That wasn’t even considering the fact that I’d probably manage to pee myself the moment I started talking to him again.

  I walked in a small circle and took some deep, calming breaths. Contrary to what circumstances might suggest, I needed to remember, I was pretty awesome. As long as you didn't ask me to explain why that was, exactly. My positive qualities were what the sports world would call intangibles. Need somebody who can find a reason to enjoy any movie and won't fall asleep? I was your girl. Want somebody with an encyclopedic knowledge of useless facts? Yeah, that was me. Oh, and sound effects were kind of my specialty. Like it or not, you could bet your ass I would enhance any average story with at least one highly accurate sound effect, especially if it involved lightsabers or explosions.

  That’s right. I was a catch, and Harry should consider himself lucky he met me. I had to keep telling myself that, whether I was ready to fully buy in or not. I could do this.

  I took one brave step toward the party and managed to walk into a spider web.

  I did what any sane person would do and lost my mind. First, I ducked and flailed my arms, then slapped the back of my head a few times. Next, I did a kind of high-stepping, running in place move and shook my arms frantically, letting my limp wrists flop around. During all of this, I made a low, hurgle sound in the back of my throat that was definitely giving me a few extra chins.

  I kept picturing a family of spiders crawling all over me. Every tickle from the web was an eight-legged nightmare who wanted to lay eggs in my ear.

  “Are you okay?”

  I reacted to the sound about like a sleeping cat would react to a bomb going off. Considering I didn’t have much practice in heels, it meant I almost went toppling to the ground. Almost.

  “Completely okay,” I said once I saw who it was. Harry. “Of course, it’s you. I’m starting to think if I’m doing something dumb, I should just expect you to appear.”

  “What were you doing exactly? It almost sounded like you were trying to knock a hairball lose while doing an interpretive dance.”

  I bit back a smile. Play it cool, Nell. You can still salvage this. “I can’t really explain that to you.” I swallowed and tried to hold eye contact. Maybe if I made him think I was a woman of mystery, I could begin a slow, insidious seduction campaign. Who knew, he might even start to wonder if I was a Russian spy.

  “I see.” Harry’s eyes twinkled with equal parts amusement and confusion. “I was actually just grabbing some of this firewood. Mind giving me a hand?”

  There was a giant pile of chopped wood beside the driveway. Maybe that had been what attracted the spiders in the first place. “Oh, sure. Don’t you have a servant for this or something?”

  “I can see why you’d assume that. I haven’t done much to make you think I’m anything but a stuffy rich guy.” He scooped up a big handful of wood and tucked it under his arm. “Before all the money, though, I was kind of a brute. I just pretend to be civilized.”

  “Oh, me too. You should see the way I open boxes. From the bottom. Every time.” I tried to scoop up as much wood as Harry, dropped half of it twice, and then finally just grabbed two smallish pieces.

  “No kidding. Your sculpture is already the talk of the party. And that, uh, interpretive dance thing you were doing. Very barbaric.”

  I lowered my eyes. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t stop imagining how I must’ve looked to him. “Wait,” I said. “My sculpture is the talk of the party?”

  “Yeah,” Harry said as he led me up the driveway toward the garden, where it looked like the majority of the guests were gathered. “See for yourself.”

  There was a little bonfire that looked completely out of place raging in the center of a cobbled pathway surrounded by perfectly manicured hedges, bright flowers, and a marble statue. Harry set down the firewood beside it and added a couple logs.

  I wasn’t surprised to see that his return to the party didn’t go unnoticed, or that I currently had about fifteen women trying to glare holes through me. Apparently, Harry was a hot commodity, and the other women here were already deciding I was any number of unsavory things to be walking beside him, where I’m sure they thought they belonged instead. From the looks in their eyes, they decided I was either a maid he’d plundered or a lady of the night.

  A pair of women approached Harry while he was still stoking the flames with an iron poker. They could’ve been sisters. Both had matching, short, silky brunette hair, and slightly crooked but white smiles. Thankfully, they didn’t seem angry like all the others.

  “Nell,” Harry said, gesturing to the women. “These are two of my authors. Mary and Elizabeth Fredericks. They co-write thrillers.”

  Both women reached out to take turns shaking my hand.

  “I’m Mary,” the one on my left said. “People say we look like twins, but I’m the one who doesn’t have a fat ass.” She twisted her hips to show me that, sure enough, she was not about to win any fat ass contests any time soon.

  Elizabeth proudly turned herself to the side and made a Vanna White gesture toward her rear. “I knock things off tables all the time if I’m not careful. Turn to the side and smash.”

  “Wow. Twins except when it comes to your jeans,” I said with a stupid smirk.

  My bad pun was met with confused silence. I cleared my throat. Maybe I’d need to go back to sign language soon.

  “This party is celebrating the release of their newest book,” Harry said. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Basically, it’s our way of trying to make it look like everybody is excited about it. The more excited publishers think other publishers are, the more willing they are to throw offers at us.”

  “So, it’s not really released yet?” I asked.

  “We’re celebrating the imminent release,” Harry said. “As in, once somebody here takes the bait and makes an offer.”

  “I see,” I said, even though I didn’t fully understand. Judging by the house Harry owned, I was willing to just accept that he knew what he was talking about when it came to business.

  A tall man who bore a striking similarity to Harry approached and said something quietly to the two women, and smiled as they took their leave.

  “Is this the girl?” the man asked.

  Harry cleared his throat. “The girl I invited to the party?” he asked in a tight voice. “Yes. This is Nell. Nell, this is my brother, Peter.”

  I smiled. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” I couldn’t help myself from comparing the two men. Peter had dark, almost black hair and a look on his face would’ve made you think twice before even asking him the time of day. He was undeniably attractive, but he was full of sharp lines and edges like there’d be no way to handle him without getting hurt. To my surprise, there was a wedding band on his finger. Apparently, some woman had managed to thread her way through those brambles of his.

  Seeing Peter next to Harry made me appreciate what Harry had going for him even more, not that he needed much help in that department. Harry’s hair was a lighter shade of brown, and though it was hard to put my finger on exactly why, he looked infinitely more inviting. Maybe it was the combination of thick, expressive eyebrows and those soft brown eyes of his. He was also built with a little more muscle on his frame than his brother. Peter might’ve passed as a baseball player, while Harry looked like he could throw on a football uniform and give a couple concussions.

  “Peter,” Harry said. “I can see from the look in your eye that I want you to walk away and not attempt to make any conversation here. So, if you wouldn’t mind…”

  “You’d like me to leave before I divulge any embarrassing information? Of course. I wouldn’t want to end up letting it slip that you brooded all day over her. I definitely wouldn’t tell her that I haven’t seen my brother dive so deep into thought because of a woman in as long as I can remember.”

  I blushed. I tried not to let my embarrassment show because I didn’t know if he was telling the truth or simply going out of his way to make his brother look bad.

  “Yeah,” Harry said. “That’s exactly why I wanted you to get lost. Why don’t you go admire the penis bush? Take some time to think about how it’s possible for someone who never met you managed to capture the essence of your personality so beautifully.”

  “We’re immortalizing ourselves in bush form now?” Peter asked. “When is she going to start on the steaming pile of bullshit for yours?”

  I had to cover my mouth to hide my smile. I didn’t think of Harry as a bullshitter, but the image of a bush fashioned into a swirly, neat little pile of soft serve poop was bringing out my not-so-inner child.

  “You know,” Harry said. “This is exactly why I was hoping you’d leave before you started talking. Are you done?”

  Peter took a sip of his drink, nodded to me, and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Your brother is interesting,” I said. “He’s married?”

  “Believe it or not, yeah. And he’s still an ass, just not as much of a raging ass as he used to be before he met Violet.”

  “So,” I said. “What are your duties at a party like this?”

  Harry discreetly drew my attention to a well-dressed, elderly man who happened to be standing near the penis bush. “I’m glad you asked. I actually need to handle something. You can tag along and see for yourself.”

  I trailed after Harry or tried to, but he subtly made sure I stayed beside him—not behind. Harry didn’t appear interested in treating me like a casual acquaintance. Considering I still didn’t know what this whole thing was, I couldn’t stop searching for hints about his intentions. Was it a date? Was he just trying to get more people to fill out the party? Was he the kind of guy who thought about long-term relationships, or was he only hoping for a quick, one-night stand?

  I needed to peel my thoughts away from ‘what if’s and focus on the present. I had a hard enough time not making a fool out of myself in front of Harry when I was focused. The last thing I needed was to be distracted. Then again, I hadn’t even completely decided on what my own goals were. I probably needed to come up with a battle plan. I mean, what was I going to do if Harry unexpectedly dragged me into a closet and started undressing?

  I decided to just roll with the punches. It felt like a good enough plan. For my whole life, I’d been screwing things up mostly because I tried too hard or overthought everything. Maybe if I just relaxed and let things play out for once; I’d get a break.

  We moved beside the elderly man, who was standing in front of a gently rippling fountain. Judging by the way he cut off the people who were talking to him mid-sentence and turned to reach for Harry’s hand, he seemed to think highly of Harry.

  “Lonzo,” Harry said. “This is Nell. Nell, this is Lonzo. He is head of acquisitions for Marble Press. They’re one of the most exclusive and prestigious publishing companies in the US.”

  Lonzo made a half-hearted attempt to defer the compliment. “Hardly. Harry is just trying to blow smoke up my ass because he’s hoping to get a contract from me tonight.”

  Harry smirked. “If I had to blow smoke up your ass for contracts, I’d have lung cancer by now.”

  I distantly wondered how that expression had ever come to common usage. Was there some freaky nobleman in the past who liked when his subjects blew smoke up his ass? Wouldn’t that dry things out down there? I had so many questions, but they were all making me picture nasty, smoked assholes, so I decided to let my questions die.

  Lonzo laughed. “I suppose you would. You do realize this song and dance isn’t necessary by now. Don’t you? We both know nobody has made an offer on the Fredericks’ book. Maybe I just came for the free drinks and food.”

  Harry shrugged. "We wanted to work with Marble Press, but my authors are more concerned with how much they're being offered than who's doing the offering. Considering we're already getting offers well beyond what I told them to expect, they're practically begging me to let them sign. I'm not trying to push a hard sell on you. But we're friends, and I wanted you to know where it stands right now."

  Lonzo narrowed his eyes. I watched with interest as he clearly tried to figure out if Harry was lying or telling the truth. It wasn’t a complicated game the two men were playing, but something about it was oddly thrilling when I imagined the kind of money at risk here. Because of what Harry had already told me, I knew Lonzo was right. Nobody had made an offer yet. He wasn’t selling the book to Lonzo, he was trying to sell the idea that people wanted it. I could also see how Harry had found so much success in his work. Everything, from the subtle changes in his features to his body language, made you want to like the man. I could hardly believe my first impression was to be slightly intimidated. Maybe that was just a testament to how skilled he was at showing the world whichever face he wanted, which made me wonder if I’d seen the real Harry yet, or just one side of his personality.

  “Let me guess,” Lonzo said. “You’re going to play coy with me if I ask you who is offering you what, aren’t you?”

  Harry made an apologetic face. “We go back, Lonzo, but you know I’ve still got to protect my clients. How about this? You pass on this book. Let us publish it with someone else, and you can see how it performs. You know I don’t usually get into making promises about how a book is going to do, but I have read this one. I’m not going to say New York Times Bestseller, but I’m not going to not say it. So, who knows, maybe you’ll be willing to play ball on the next one. I just wanted to give you a shot to get in on the Fredericks girls before they’ve got the pedigree to demand a monster advance and royalties.”

 

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