Page 139 of Some Like It Hot

I freeze. What? Shit, shit, shit. “Why are you asking about that?” I ask, working to keep my voice calm.

“I’m a reporter with an online entertainment and sports site. This is big news in the Racketeers world. We haven’t been able to get a hold of Mr. Wilder. Thought I’d take a chance.”

“Well if she just got married, why would she be here?” I ask. Such a great question really.

He chuckles. “Good point. Just trying everything I could think of. I assume you work there though, so you must know Elise pretty well.”

My stomach dips. I should just hang up on him, but this is the business line. I have to be polite so he doesn’t write something bad about Books and Buns. "I know Ms. Starling very well.”

Lydia is watching me. She smiles at that.

“Well, I guess it’s Mrs. Wilder, right?” The guy says with another chuckle.

Hey, I could keep my name. What a dick. But my stomach swoops again. And I regret that three-fourths of a cup of buttercream I have in it right now.

“Want to give me a quote?” he asks. “Tell me something about Elise that readers would like to know.”

I think for a moment about telling him to fuck off, but then decide what the hell? “Elise is amazing. Everyone loves her. Blake’s a lucky guy.”

The guy gives another laugh, but says, “Okay, thanks. Can I get your name for the article?”

“How about you just do the thing where you say it’s a source close to the couple?”

“Got it,” he says. “Well, thanks.” He disconnects.

I look at Lydia. “Well crap. A reporter knows that I work here and has already heard the news about our wedding.”

She nods. “Most of Chicago has already heard the news about your wedding.”

Right. That was the entire point. Blake‘s grandmother has to believe it’s real. If it wasn’t real, why would we let the entire city of Chicago, the entire Racketeers organization, think it was?

The bell on the front counter dings and Lydia sets down her piping bag. “My turn. Be right back.”

I nod and bend over the tray of cupcakes again.

But a second later, I hear her say, “Hi, can I help you?”

“Are you Elise Starling?”

I straighten. Oh, no.

“No. I’m Lydia. Can I help you?”

“I’d like to talk to Elise,” the woman says.

A customer? A design client? But I have a suspicion it’s neither.

“Oh, well, she’s not here right now,” Lydia tells her.

I frown and move closer to the door.

“We saw Blake leaving his apartment alone. Wondering why his wife wasn’t with him.”

Yeah… shit.

“Sorry I can’t help you,” Lydia replies, her voice still upbeat and friendly. “Elise and Blake don’t report to me.”

“But she does work here?” the woman asks.

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