Anchor Me (Stark Trilogy 4)

But she'd been right. About everything, really. And now I'm sitting here in the back of a hired car with my hand over my belly, wondering if my mother's been in Los Angeles all this time, and thinking about why I was so nervous about having a baby when clearly Damien and I are more than ready to make this work.

"--how did that go, anyway?"

I straighten, realizing that I'd zoned out. "Sorry. What?"

"Your mom," she says.

"Oh." I exhale loudly. "I think I was right all along."

"You went to see her, right? How did--" She was speaking over me, but she cuts herself off sharply. "Wait. What?"

"My mom's not here. She sold her house. She's gone, Jamie."

"So you really think she's been in LA all this time?"

I sigh. "I don't know. But at least that would mean I haven't been seeing things."

"Fuck."

"Yup," I say, because honestly, that sums up the situation nicely.

"Are you okay?"

I hesitate because what on earth am I supposed to tell her? The news about my mom is all mixed in now with the news of the baby, and even though I desperately want to share that with Jamie, I don't want to tell her from fifteen hundred miles away.

"Nicholas?" Her voice is firm, and she uses her nickname for me in emphasis. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Yes," I repeat more forcefully. "Honestly, James, I'm great. Damien's here and--well, everything is fine. It's good. I'll tell you all about the trip when I get home. And, hey," I say brightly, because I am totally changing the subject, "was there some other reason you called?"

"I--what?"

"You just sounded weird when you called. Like there was something else on your mind."

"Oh! Well, actually, yeah. Um, you're still coming to the premiere on Friday, aren't you?"

Our friend Jane's book has been adapted into a movie, and the red carpet premiere is Friday at the Chinese Theater. "Are you kidding? Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," she says vaguely. "I just wanted to make sure."

I frown. "You still sound weird. Is something wrong? There's not trouble between you and Ryan is there?"

"Are you kidding? I'm drowning in marital bliss. Apparently, to my husband, a wedding ring is an aphrodisiac. I mean, everyone said the honeymoon phase would be over by now, but they were so wrong. Seriously, I thought I was well-fucked before we tied the knot, but now I--"

"Got it," I say, cutting her off before I have a visual picture that I'll never be able to un-see. "Ryan's going early to oversee security, right? Do you want to share the limo with us?"

"Normally, I'd jump at it. But this time, I'm turning you down cold."

"Really?" I can't help but laugh at the tone of her voice. "Why?"

"Because this girl is going to be on the red carpet interviewing celebs as they come traipsing into the theater. Live on camera in a seriously awesome dress."

"Jamie! That's amazing!" Jamie's been working as the weekend anchor job for a local news affiliate, but she's been gunning to get out in the field and do entertainment reporting. To actually be on a red carpet interviewing A-listers is pretty much her dream come true.

Jamie's got the kind of A-list good looks that the camera adores. If the industry hadn't chewed her up and spit her out, I really think she could have made it as an actress. Fortunately, she got over the acting thing quickly, and she discovered she loves journalism. Especially if it involves reporting about Hollywood. But the fact that she loves it means she has something to lose.

"I know, right? Totally amazing. And I didn't even ask for this. I figured I had no chance--I mean, who starts with the red carpet? But they just plucked me out of the massive pile of desperation, dreams, and sweat."

I laugh. "I think they plucked you from a pile of talent."

"Pfft. You're just saying that because you're my best friend."

"Absolutely," I say deadpan. "You really suck at your job, and I'm just being supportive by lying to you."

"Bitch."

"Love you, too. And, James? Congratulations."

"Thanks." I can practically hear the grin in her voice. "Okay, I should let you prep. When's your interview, anyway?"

"I'm in the car on my way there right now."

"Oh, shit. I didn't mean to interrupt you. Good luck. Are you pumped up? 'Cause I can pump you up. I mean, come on. High school valedictorian. Double major in electrical engineering and computer science. Four-time recipient of the Stark International Science Fellowship. CEO of Fairchild Development. Designer and engineer of over two dozen web and mobile apps. Amateur photographer, superior poker player, and all around awesome best friend." She's rattled all of that off at the speed of light, and now she draws a deep breath. "Whew! Did I miss anything?"

I can barely talk, I'm laughing so hard. "You freak. Do you have my resume in front of you?"

"Don't be silly." Her voice takes on an unnaturally high pitch, and I assume she's still teasing me. "Why would I have your resume in front of me? You're my BFF," she says, now sounding much more normal. "Of course, I know your resume. I sleep with it by my bedside and pay homage to it every time I remember how much better your college grades were than mine."

"I love you, James."

"Back at you, Nicholas. Good luck, okay?"

"Thanks." I frown, still thinking of that odd tone in her voice. "And, James?

"Yeah?"

"You're sure there's nothing else?"

"Not a thing. Why? Have you got something else?"

I press a hand to my belly. A lot, I think. But nothing I'm willing to tell her over the phone.

8

After two hours of interviews and meetings, I'm exhausted but euphoric. Exhausted, because I'm pretty sure that I've now met every single person who works at Greystone-Branch, from the mailroom all the way up. Euphoric, because I know from Damien's own policy that it's only candidates the company is seriously considering who get the full-meal tour. Time is too valuable a commodity to waste precious employee minutes interviewing an unlikely candidate.

In my case, I'm not applying for a job. I'd be an independent contractor. But the nature of the project--the creation of proprietary web and mobile software to link company communications and resources across the globe--will require access to not only the company's network but also the employees. I need to understand how they currently work in order to make sure that I enhance their productivity, not detract from it.

In other words, if I get this contract, I'll be here a lot. In this office. And in Dallas.

The memory of my mother's house distracts me for a moment, and I miss something that Mr. "Please call me John" Greystone is saying.

"I'm sorry? My mind was wandering. I was thinking about the architecture of your website."

"I only asked if you wanted some coffee. I thought we could talk for a few more minutes in my office, and then we'll get you out of here."

"Just water, please."

Mr. Greystone's assistant soon enters with a bottle of water, followed by the Vice President of Operations, Bijan Kamali. We settle in the sitting area, a corner of the large office set up with a small couch, two leather chairs, and a chrome and glass coffee table. The area reminds me of a similar section of Damien's office, and I allow myself to relax a little, letting hope settle in. After all, they've taken a lot of time with me and paid a lot of attention to me. That has to be a good sign, doesn't it?