Page 15 of Business or Pleasure

“Finnegan... Walsh? He’s an actor?”

“No shit, he’s an actor,” she says. “Finn Walsh, of The Nocturnals, the most formative show of my teen years? I’ve only tried to get you to watch it a hundred times.” She unzips her bag and unearths her keys. “Holy shit. Are you writing a book with Finn Walsh?”

“I might be,” I say, and explain the call. And that I have to be at lunch with him in fifteen minutes.

On our drive downtown, Noemie does her best to fill me in on 2008’s biggest paranormal teen drama while I shimmy out of my leggings in her backseat. Typically, I’d spend hours researching a potential new author, but this time, I’m going to have to rely on my cousin. And she might be better than Wikipedia.

By the time we hit the freeway, I know the following about Finnegan Walsh:

He starred on the TV show The Nocturnals from 2008 to 2012, about hot werewolves navigating college life (but he didn’t even play one of the werewolves). Oliver Huxley was a biology major trying to find a cure for his werewolf crush, who Noemie explains he was adorably devoted to, even when she pushed him away because she thought he could never love a beast like her. As a result, he ranks high on Noemie’s list of sexiest nerds, sandwiched between Adam Brody and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

During filming, he kept a relatively low profile, i.e., no scandals or controversies (“that we know of,” Noemie says). Since The Nocturnals went off the air, he’s starred in some low-budget romantic comedies, and more recently, a couple of Hallmark Christmas movies, including one from a couple years ago called Ms. Mistletoe that Noemie admits she watched and unironically loved.

She opens up the glove compartment and hands me a bottle of dry shampoo as the car swerves. “Here. Put this on. And there should be some ballet flats in that Whole Foods bag.”

“Be honest with me. Are you running an Ann Taylor outlet out of the back of your car?”

A glare in the mirror. “Don’t knock Ann Taylor. She’s gotten me through a lot of tough times.”

Noemie and I are not the same size. Her black-and-white-checked blouse strains over my chest, but with a cardigan, it’ll be okay. Some dry shampoo in my hair and I’m good to go.

“Are you sure I look presentable?” I ask, tugging at the skirt once she pulls into a loading zone downtown. It shows my bruise, but it’s better than the threadbare leggings I wore to the gym. “My breasts aren’t too breasty in this?”

Noemie assesses me, smooths a stubborn strand of hair back into place. “You look business-casual hot. I’d hire you to write a book for the horny werewolf fandom.”

A quick hug and a promise to tell her everything, and then she’s gone.

My heart roars in my ears. I’ve never met an author in person like this, not in what essentially sounds like an interview situation with two strangers I learned about less than a half hour ago. It’s been cobbled together so last-minute, which cranks my anxiety up past eleven. Typically, I’d need at least a week to prepare for something like this—write practice questions, rehearse practice answers, try on a dozen outfits before settling on whichever one I hated the least. It’s always been easier to let my writing do the talking.

They loved your samples, Stella said. I just have to be normal. I cling to that as I step inside Pear Bistro, funnily enough, the same vegan restaurant I recommended to Drew yesterday, although now is not the time to think about that. Hopefully I’ve learned enough from Noemie’s Finnegan Walsh monologuing to fake my way through this meeting. The Nocturnals. Lucky Us, a direct-to-DVD romantic comedy about two people with winning lottery tickets who have to share their jackpot. Ms. Mistletoe.

When I tell the host the manager’s name, he gives me a closed-lipped smile and says, “Right this way.”

It’s only when the table comes into view that I start to wonder if I passed out during Trampoline XXX and now I’m stuck inside a nightmare.

Because sitting at the table next to a middle-aged man in a gray suit is someone a little too familiar. He’s looking down at his phone, but the auburn hair, the freckles, the confident set of his shoulders—I’m positive it’s him.

The guy who stumbled his way around my body and doused me with strawberry lube.

The guy whose room I snuck out of only nine hours ago—because I wasn’t supposed to see him ever again.

THE NOCTURNALS

Season 1, Episode 7: “Revelations”

INT. OAKHURST LIBRARY—NIGHT

ALICE CHEN enters and spots OLIVER HUXLEY at his usual table, head bent over a book. She stalks toward him, shoulders high, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

ALICE

You need to stop hanging around Meg if you know what’s good for you. You might think she’s a normal girl, but...

HUX

None of us are normal. In fact, I’ve always considered normal to be quite boring. I’d much rather be unusual.

ALICE

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