Page 49 of Between the Lines

“Yes, please.”

He hands me a tumbler and sits down across from me. His long legs, clad in dress pants, stretch out beneath the beautifully decorated coffee table. His left arm drapes along the back of his couch. He looks so at home sitting there—casually wealthy, handsomely bored, sporting a five-o’clock shadow—among the interior that screams riches. “Tell me,” he says.

My cheeks heat up. I hate that they do, but this isn’t something I talk about often. “I’m not sure yet. I think I want to investigate online culture. Something about fame, but I haven’t really settled on the entry point.”

“Fame?”

He had asked to get to know me in response. It’ll have to be a careful dance, this whole thing. This bargain. To open myself up to his scrutiny so that he will do the same. “Yes. What it costs people, and what it grants them.”

His eyebrows rise. “That’s unexpected.”

“I really enjoy investigative books like that,” I say, “But I have to work on the framing of it, and pull the loose threads I have into some kind of narrative.”

He holds my gaze. “I think that’s a fantastic idea. Can’t wait to read it.”

“If I ever get around to properly writing it. Hopefully I’ll be able to sell it to Vera after your memoir.”

“If you impress her,” he says, “by what, exactly? How riveting my memoir will be? That seems like too high a bar.”

I give him a wry smile. “You have a juicy life. She wants me to get emotional with it, to deliver on the brief.”

“Mm-hmm.” He looks down at his glass of whiskey, his face unreadable. “Did Eric send you an updated schedule for the coming week?”

I nod. “Yes, I have your times and everything. There are a few evenings where you have nothing planned?”

“We’ll have dinner here. You can ask me anything. Unless,” he says and tips his head in my direction, “you have a lot of dates planned in your spare time. I know you said you wanted to see the city.”

I look down at my own drink. I had said that. Weeks ago, at the resort in Utah. “This is my job. It’s what’s most important.”

“What do you want to see most?” he asks.

“The usual tourist things,” I say. “I’d like to see the beach while I’m here. Maybe go to Hollywood Boulevard. I know it’s cliché, but I’ve never been.”

He nods like he’s taking mental notes. “Okay. All very doable.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll get Elena on it.”

“Your staff shouldn’t have to cater to me. I promise I’ll be out of their hair,” I say. “There was something about laundry in the papers Elena gave me. But I can do my own.”

“I’m sure you can,” Aiden says with the tone of someone who doesn’t addbut you don’t have to.It’s implied.

I shake my head and look beyond his large windows. It’s dark, but I can make out the confines of his large backyard. Despite it all, a small smile spreads across my lips. “I’ve never lived like this before. You’re so surrounded by… luxury.”

Aiden is quiet for a moment. “Yes. I haven’t reflected on it in a while.”

“Just look at my beat-up Honda parked next to your cars,” I say with a widening smile. “It’ll make you appreciate them in a second.”

“Beat-up?” he asks. “It’s safe, though?”

“It’s perfectly safe. It’s just not particularly beautiful.” I shrug a little and look from him to the room we’re in. “Do you hang out here often?”

“No,” he says.

“That’s a shame. Your couches are very comfortable.” I look back at him, seeing a hint of amusement on his face. “What do you usually watch on that large projector upstairs? Your own shows?”

“No,” he says again, and his lips curve. “Is this you changing the subject?”

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