Are you there yet? How’s Daniel? Give him my phone number.
I chuckled to myself as I read her text and quickly typed out one of my own.
Not there yet. I’ll not only give him your number, but I’ll also write it on the bathroom wall. Wouldn’t want to limit your options.
The businesswoman in me wanted to chastise herself for being so loose and carefree in a text message. I’d witnessed firsthand how anything in writing, in any form, could come back to haunt you.
When I’d worked in the writing department, one of the more senior writers had informed the entire room that he had been keeping every email from his superior and had printed and compiled them into a binder in case the messages ever got lost mysteriously on the company server. He’d eventually sued the studio for wrongful termination and he’d won a shitload of money. It was all because of, literally, a few measly sentences that had been written via email in the heat of a disagreement. Had they been inappropriate? Sure. But hadn’t we all done something as innocent as that to one another before? I knew I had, and the thought terrified me.
It was that day when I’d realized that I would have to be careful about every single thing that I ever put into writing, in any form, to anyone. I’d censor my thoughts and my ideas, and I’d spend more time constructing HR-appropriate responses to each email. When words that could be misconstrued via email were required, I’d make sure they were only spoken in face-to-face conversations. It had been hard at first, and I had grown lax about it with the handful of people I trusted, people like Barbara.
3.
ELIZABETH
“Miss Lyons?”
Thomas’s voice broke through my past thoughts.
“We’re almost in town. I thought you might want to look around. It will be dark when we leave, and I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”
“Thank you,” I said as my eyes fell upon oak-lined streets.
Most of the homes were set far enough back from the roadway that I couldn’t see them, but I could tell when one was special. It was as though the trees knew it, too. They had grown tall and lush to protect all the magic that lived here, keeping it well hidden from prying eyes.
We pulled up to a gated drive, and Thomas checked a Post-it note stuck to the side of the passenger seat before punching in the required code. The wide gates swung open without a sound, and I audibly gasped at what appeared before us.
“Jesus, Thomas, this is stunning.”
I looked around at the perfectly manicured garden with fountains and small sculptures adorning it. The front lawn alone was bigger than most of the lots in LA—unless you lived in Beverly Hills or Bel Air. Honestly, I sort of felt like I was in one of those cities as we pulled onto the stone-paved driveway.
The home itself was two stories, but it was wider instead of taller. The windows were lit up in every direction, nary a curtain or covering to be seen. The entire second story had a balcony edged in ornamental iron mixed with miniature cement columns. Gas lamps, all glowing and flickering in the softening daylight, hung evenly across the front of the first and second stories.
If one could fall in love with a house, I thought I did right then. “This is unbelievable,” I commented to Thomas as he opened my door for me and offered his hand.
Upon exiting the car, I was met by another suit-clad gentleman carrying a silver tray of three champagne flutes. He offered me one before gesturing toward another well-dressed gentleman, who had suddenly appeared and moved to the car behind us.
“Good evening, Miss Lyons. I’m Shane,” he said with a smile.
I noted that I hadn’t told him my name yet. Impressive, I thought to myself.
“If you’ll follow me,” he jutted his elbow for me to hold before proceeding to walk me toward the entrance of the house.
I stared at the oversized double glass doors as we stopped in front of a giant of a man holding a clipboard. He looked like a bouncer who stood guard outside of dance clubs.
“David, this is Miss Lyons,” Shane announced before removing my arm from his.
David scanned down his list and scribbled something with his pen before greeting me with a tight lipped smile.
“Miss Lyons, it’s nice to see you. Please come in.” He waved a hand inside. “Is there anything else you need?”
“The powder room?” I asked with my clutch tucked firmly against my side.
“Make a right after the Monet, and go through the double doors at the end of the hallway. It will be on your left.”
“Thank you.” I touched his arm in a polite gesture while trying to remember all the directions.
I swore, I looked down at the flooring for only a moment before I crashed into a hard body and spilled part of my drink.