We were in a bar that had popped up in the East Village a few months earlier. It was close to the theater and catered more to New Yorkers in service than the rich or famous. Or even tourists. It wasn’t what I would call a dive, but it was tucked away and the prices were reasonable. We’d been a few times and we’d liked the atmosphere because it wasn’t one of pickups and general douchery.
“Look,” Felicia said, showing me her phone again. “I found your boss online.”
I was surprised to see that Grant had a social media account though I wasn’t sure why that surprised me. I reached out and scrolled through the posts. They were rare and were usually alcohol or vacation vistas. Several shots of him with gorgeous women on his arm. He always looked mildly irritated. “Wait, these are just times he was tagged, right? He’s never actually posted.”
“It looks like he had an account and he deleted it. But yes, these are tags. Oh, look, there’s a story with him in it right now.” She tapped and we saw Grant at a bar, leaning on the counter, his arm around a woman who weighed three pounds and had blonde extensions that went to her ass. She somehow managed to be kissing his cheek, while simultaneously looking at the camera. “Who is that?” Felicia asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, as jealousy stabbed me in the gut like Satan’s pitchfork. “Seems kind of stupid to pay me all this money to be his girlfriend when he’s running around with Miss Blonde Isn’t My Natural Color.”
Dakota made a cat meowing sound. “Settle down, geez. It’s not exactly a crime to dye your hair and he’s just your boss. Remember?”
The story disappeared when Felicia let go of the image and I sipped my wine, a lump in my throat. “You’re right,” I said, even though inside I was picturing murdering Dakota for her insufferable logic. Nothing was logical when you had a crush, even at the age of twenty-six.
And I did have a crush. I’d maintained that all along and it wasn’t going away. If anything, it was getting worse because Grant looked sexy as hell, kissed like a savant, and got me slippers.
Slippers I was still wearing, which had mortified Felicia, but whatever. My ankle hurt like a motherfucker. Too much pretend runway walking.
Trying to keep my phone under the table so no one could see what I was doing, I texted Grant.
No one is going to believe I’m your girlfriend if you are out with other women.
I hovered over the up arrow and then changed my mind. I couldn’t send that. It sounded bitchy. It was none of my business. Besides, he would know I looked him up on social media and that was embarrassing. Though I could claim it was for research purposes, to better prepare for my role as fake girlfriend.
Still. The text sounded bitchy.
I used the back arrow to start deleting what I had typed.
“What are you doing?” Isla asked. She reached over Dakota and grabbed my phone. “No one texts under the table unless they’re being shady and we’re all sitting here so you are not texting any of us. That leaves only one likely person you could be texting.”
“Okay, Detective Parker, yes, I am texting Grant. But I changed my mind,” I said, feeling grumpy about the whole thing. Obviously, Grant hadn’t enjoyed our day together as much as I had if he was out with another woman. “I started to delete it.”
“I’m deleting the rest of it.” She tapped on my phone. “And I’m keeping your phone.”
“No, you’re not. I swear I won’t text him.” Unless he texted me first.
Isla put my phone in her bra.
“That’s stealing,” I told her. “And I will dig in your bra to get it back.” I stood up so I could get closer to Isla.
She laughed and tossed my phone back on the table. “As much as I’d love to have you feel my boob, here. I didn’t know it was that important to you.”
“You’re wearing the bracelet he gave you!” Dakota said, with her usual booming voice. She could knock pigeons out of nests with her pitch. She also pointed to my wrist, just in case anyone in the tri-state area had missed what she meant.
I winced. I was wearing the bracelet. “I’m a mermaid in the show. The bracelet is sparkly. It seemed fitting.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Savannah said, rubbing her hand over mine. “You’re in love with your boss. That never ends well.”
That sobered me up. “
I’m not in love with him. Relax. I barely know him. But yes, fine, I like Grant. I’ve never denied that.”
“He texted you,” Felicia said. “It says, ‘Can you talk later? How did the show go?’”
“Can you not read my texts!” I said, snatching my phone off the table. “I thought we were here to celebrate my show, not troll me.”
“We’re just teasing you,” Isla said. “Sorry, Leah. I didn’t know it would upset you that much.”
I actually felt like my cheeks were burning. Grant Caldwell made me blush, oh my God, how ridiculous.