CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In for a Feature, In for a Best Friend

Early Monday morning, I turned in my draft and nervously ran Nick’s paperwork by Olivia, hoping she would be in one of her sign-without-reading-and-then-screech-holy-hell-later moods. She wasn’t. She read the paperwork. Every word. “Nick?” Her brow might have wrinkled in another woman. But Dragon Lady’s brow didn’t dare.

“He’s good.”

“That nice young artist from your birthday bash?” Liv remembered Nick. Of course that shouldn’t have surprised me. He is an eligible male, after all. I felt a twinge of worry, but reassured myself with the thought that there’s absolutely no reason for their paths to cross—the weekend getaways will be out of Liv’s social sphere. For once, I’m glad.

“He’s a professional photographer.”

“Where have I seen him?”

“His photos have been in GQ and Vogue.” Advertisements in those magazines, but hey—a girl has to use whatever she can to impress. Nick’s never had a cover. I’m suddenly not sure whether he might want one. He’s always been fairly casual about it. But I’d been that way about getting an opportunity to write an article—and look what I’m willing to do to get it. Hmm. The concept of Nick′s hidden ambitions definitely was worth further thought. Maybe I might even get Emily′s take on what secret ambitions Nick might be harboring. Could come in handy if I needed to convince him to stick with me through every ex.

I met Nick downstairs at the receptionist desk and steered him quickly to accounting to sign his contract. He didn’t read it, just as I’d hoped. Another time I might have scolded him, but today I just wanted the damn thing signed. I couldn’t do this without him.

He’d scrawled his artistically illegible signature on all six pages of the contract when who should show up—at accounting where she’d never been before—but Tandy.

“What a great coup. I hear your photographer has done GQ and Vogue.”

Nick, bless his heart, opened his mouth to confess the truth.

I simultaneously stepped forward onto his foot and reached out to Tandy in an expansive gesture worthy of Olivia at her most excruciatingly pleasant. “Tandy. Fancy meeting you down here in the bowels of the number cruncher’s lair. This is Nick.”

“Hi Nick.” Her eyes licked over him like a tongue over ice cream.

“Hi Tandy.” He responded with a smile so friendly I could almost believe he hadn’t heard a word of my grouching about Tandy. Traitor. Of course, I was standing on his foot.

I shifted my weight back to my own two feet—both firmly on the floor. “He’s very talented. And a friend.”

“I could always use a new photographer myself.” She smiled. “I get so many covers I have to spread the wealth, you know.”

“I’ll give him your number.” Over my cold dead body.

“No need. I can get it from accounting.” She smiled. “Liv wants to see you. She has notes on your draft.” Tandy turned to leave. “Oh, and she wants to talk to the photographer, too."

<<>>

“He was still a frog, even after you kissed him?” Olivia seemed disappointed as she waved my draft of the Henry article in the air. Tandy watched our exchange without saying a word. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Had I blown the assignment so early?

I pointed out the obvious. “Well, if I’d found I’d overlooked Prince Charming right away, the series would be done, right? This way we can keep it going.”

A frown showed in one tiny wrinkle between Olivia’s eyes that botox had missed. “There is that. But our readers will want you to find Mr. Right somewhere.” She looked at my copy, picked up a red pen, and crossed out the final paragraph. “Here’s what you’re going to do: you’re going to recap the date, pros and cons, and you’re going to wait until the end of the series to spill on which one turned into a prince when you gave him a second kiss.”

Tandy leaned forward. “We could let the readers vote.”

“Vote? What a grand idea.” Olivia nodded. “I’ll have Tina arrange for a website devoted to “The Ex Files” series.”

“What if I don’t find a prince at all?” I hope she didn’t imagine I would actually marry a guy because The Female Eye readers voted for him. I didn’t ask, though. After a weekend of Henry and trying to write an impressive first article draft, I was not ready to tackle that issue.

“We’ll deal with that if it comes to pass.”

“The point is to see if your standards are too high,” Tandy said, having reached the limits of her patience with me in the role of Olivia’s star pupil. “Not to keep impossible standards.”

“The Ten Commandments for Love and Marriage are solid. I stand by them. Henry may be a great kisser, but he sure knows how to steal someone’s confidence.”

Tandy sniffed. “No one can steal your confidence if you don’t let them.”

“I’ll be happy to introduce you to Henry, if you like.” I pointed to my newly marked-up article, still on Olivia’s desk. “But you can’t say you weren’t warned.”

“Not everyone is looking for Mr. Perfect, Diana. Some of us aren’t threatened by confident and sexy.”

I would have argued, but just then Olivia turned to Nick. She smiled at him and his camera like he’d brought wine, chocolate and Christmas gifts all wrapped up and just for her. “Diana speaks highly of you. Let’s see what you captured that Diana didn’t include in her story.”

“Now we’ll get the scoop.” Tandy scooted closer to Nick as he sat down and connected his camera to the monitor.

I tensed. This was it. If Nick’s work passed muster with Olivia, I could use him for the whole project. If not… At least I’d made sure the contract he’d signed included a kill fee.

Pictures started clicking by, one after another. I wanted to sob with relief as Olivia said, “That one. Oh yes. Good. Cover. Web.”

The picture of the kiss flashed up and Olivia gave me a look. “No spark?”

“No spark,” I lied.

She shrugged. “We did say desperate not just curious, didn’t we? That’s going to play well on the web, too.” She turned back to the pictures and kept up a steady stream of wordless murmuring approval. Apparently Nick’s work was easier to love than mine. I had known he was good, but seeing the shots he’d captured for my date with Henry I realized that even if I had intended to lie to the readers, I wouldn’t have gotten away with it. His pictures told the truth. And soon all the readers of The Female Eye would see what he had seen.

I sat there feeling exposed, just like he’d been trying to warn me would happen. But then I thought of The Plan. It would all be worth it. My ten minutes of fame would fade in five. “The Ex Files” was just an article series, not a reality show.

Every time Olivia indicated a picture to be used in the magazine, Tandy brushed her hand down Nick’s arm in congratulations. It was all I could do not to reach across the table and slap her hand away. Nick just smiled at her. Traitor.

<<>>

“So what’s so bad about the word desperate?” Emily asked.

“Really?” I’d arranged to meet Emily for coffee because I needed sympathy. But she’d decided to play cheerleader. “Tell me one good thing that comes to mind when you hear desperate?”

She laughed. “Surely you can’t mind the series thing—you’re looking at the Pulitzer eye to eye.”

Not the sympathy I was looking for. I countered her cheer. “Pulitzer? For writing articles about a desperate woman—who just happens to be me, by the way—turning over the rocks of her past relationships to see if she missed a gem among the worms? Remember, men give out the Pulitzer and it’s never going to be given to a woman writing about desperation—or menopause or PMS either, come to think of it.”

She shrugged. “Fine then. It’s practice for that great article on having to write crap for your breakthrough article, then. Surely some navel lover will give you a Pulitzer for that.”

I frowned at her. “Have you ever read a Pulitzer winner?”

She shrugged. Again. Good thing she was protecting her neck from my hands. But then, she was a cheerleader, not a seer, so I shouldn’t be looking for wisdom in all the wrong places.

I gave up trying to win the sympathy vote. “Speaking of desperate, how goes the husband/wife battle over parenthood? Have you started poking holes in the old diaphragm yet?”

Her expression shifted. Like any good teacher, she didn’t let her face show sadness. Instead, when she was sad, her cheer took on a manic over-the-top quality. “What good would that do—only works if you have sex.”

I was shocked speechless for a moment. Her face turned bright red. I tried to recover. “Oh well, it’ll be all the better when you get to the makeup sex.”

“Does that come before the divorce or afterward?” Her voice was soft, and the color drained from her face as we both sat there absorbing the shock of the words. By the slight cringe in her shoulders, I guessed it was the first time she’d said the d word out loud. She knows how I feel about divorce. It’s fine for other people, but not for those I love. Some leftover sentiment from my parents’ bombshell split, I suppose.

Nick joined us, forestalling any more questions about the Emily-Phil situation.

“How’s Lois Lane doing on her next big scoop?” Nick might have thought he was being funny. Of course, he might have been trying to save me from myself, too. He’s the kind of person who thinks selling out to the man is a big bad thing—he wasn’t born until the seventies, but his parents had him late in life, and they’d told him they’d captured his unbirthed soul at Woodstock but had waited until they had a home and two cars before they made a baby that could house that soul. I don’t think he believed them. I don’t think.

“Fine.” I considered trying to wrest some sympathy from him, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “I think I have a way to get these darned interviews and still maintain my sanity.”

“Going to send in your evil twin?”

“No.” I turned to him. It was important to me, but I didn’t know what he would say. “I’m going to pick weekend activities that will help my exes see where they’re going wrong.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Nick said with exaggerated sarcasm. “Guys love reform weekends. Can’t get enough.”

“Hey, I need you on my side. What better way to make sure I don’t slip up and let a few romantic embers confuse me again, like they did with Henry. The lap of luxury can hide a lot of flaws.”

Silence.

“Henry was a jerk,” Emily said slowly. “But you haven’t always dated jerks.”

Nick cocked his head like a curious bird. A bird of prey. “Is there someone you think she shouldn’t have dumped?”

Emily looked into her coffee and her eyes filled with tears. “Who am I to say?”

I gave Nick a warning look when he would have pursued the Emily-Phil thing. Besides, Emily had brought up my most pressing question. “Henry was easy. He broke two of my commandments in a weekend. He was almost the biggest jerk I ever got serious about…”

“Almost?” Nick looked intrigued.

Emily, who had known me longer, set aside her own problems. “True. Two big jerks, one big cheater, and the rest pretty nice guys, even if they weren’t right for you. So how do you arrange a weekend with them that will reveal the flaws to all those magazine readers?”

“Exactly.” I nodded. The readers who actually go to the website to vote aren’t going to vote for the jerks. But the nice guys? I’m going to get some pressure to give one of them another chance.”

Emily bit her lip. “There’s nothing wrong with a second chance.”

“Then you give one to Phil. But I’m counting on you two to help me make sure I don’t make a mistake here. Especially you, Nick, since you’re the one with the camera.”

“You can trust me to have your back. I won’t make the guys look one iota better than they are. I promise. And if you look like you’re about to make a mistake, I’ll have your back, like I did with Henry. I’ll even destroy any unflattering pictures of you before anyone gets a chance to see them.”

I thought of the pictures he’d already taken. Maybe. The truth was that I could trust him not to catch me with spinach in my teeth, or with my collar twisted. I’d have to remember not to look shocked or infatuated, though, because he’d definitely capture those moments and blackmail me with them forever and ever amen. “Pinky swear?”

He trained skeptical brown eyes on me. “Contrary to popular opinion between you two, I am not now, nor have I ever been, a girl?”

I examined him like I would a designer knockoff bag from a street vendor. He wouldn’t pinky swear. But he would come through for me. “Do we need a signal?”

“Like what? Me waving my arms and telling you not to fall for the idea of falling in love? What if you really like the guy?”

I so did not want to go there. But.... “Do you think I made a mistake and turned down some guy I shouldn’t have?”

He blinked. I could see he didn’t want to answer. “What does your gut say?”

“That I didn’t make any mistakes. That they’re not the right guys for me. That I’m not going back to any of them.”

“Then I’ll have your back, even if you don’t want me to.” He took a swig of his coffee and set his cup down sharply. “I can’t wait until this series is over and done with.”

“You and me both.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

He squeezed my hand. “Until then, think of me as your anti-wingman.”