Page 84 of Between the Lines

In my peripheral vision, I see Aiden’s lips tip up. He lifts his glass and leaves it to me to handle the question. The jerk.

Well then, I’ll handle it.

“We’re not dating,” I say. “I’m writing his memoir.”

“His memoir?” Caleb asks. “I didn’t know you were working on one.”

Aiden nods a little. If he’s annoyed that I came right out and admitted something I technically signed an NDA about, he doesn’t look it. “It’s about the company and its history. Me. Charlotte is a very talented writer, and she’s been shadowing me for weeks.”

Nora nods slightly. “You must trust her a great deal,” she says, and there’s shrewdness in her gaze.

“I do,” Aiden says.

“Not dating, huh?” Caleb asks me. He chuckles a little and runs a hand over his buzz cut. It makes his face look more angular. He’s beautiful, I decide. In almost a model kind of way. “That’s good to know. How long are you in LA for?”

Beside me, Aiden tenses.

“I’m here for a few months, to work on Aiden’s memoir,” I say. “Gather the necessary material and see the places that shaped him.”

Caleb nods. “Does he give you any free time?”

“She’s pretty busy,” Aiden says. He leans back, his shoulder brushing faintly against mine.

“I set my own schedule,” I protest. “Besides, you work a lot, so that leaves plenty of time for me to write.”

Caleb smiles. “That’s good. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on seeing the city.”

“I’ve shown her the city,” Aiden says. His voice comes out a bit rough, and I turn to look at him.

He reaches for his drink and drains half of it.

For the rest of the meal, we’re having two conversations almost simultaneously. Nora and Aiden, and Caleb and I. The discussions sometimes cross and intertwine, but more often than not, we’re talking about separate things.

I try to make sure I talkaboutAiden with Caleb. Tell the younger Stone some of the things I’ve noticed about Aiden while living here in the city. About his work ethic and fairness to those he works with. Beside me, I hear Nora and Aiden dance around similar topics. It’s a business meeting disguised as nothing but a social nicety before potential negotiations start.

Aiden handles the check. He insists, and like a fencing partner sidestepping through a duel, Nora inclines her head and accepts.

“Very gracious,” she says.

Money is no object to either party. They’re all filthy rich, and if Aiden gets his way with this purchase, Caleb and Nora will go from being comfortable millionaires to near-billionaires in their own right.

“Charlotte,” she says again. Her voice is kind, but her eyes… they are still as shrewd as they’d been earlier. I wonder if she collapses in bed when she comes home. Strips off the expensive, gorgeous suit and wipes off her makeup, shedding the confident facade. Or maybe it’s who she is, through and through.

I respect her a great deal, I realize.

“Aiden mentioned that you’re working on your own book, as well. What will it be about?”

Suddenly, three pairs of eyes are all on me. I want to kick Aiden under the table.

I clear my throat instead. “It’s early days. I have a few ideas, but… I think I would like to investigate the relationshipbetween media and the concept of ‘fifteen minutes of fame.’ What happens to those people, you know? After their time is over? And how are their stories used by the media to further all kinds of narratives that might not be true?” I wave a hand. “Sorry, that’s kind of vague. But remember… that girl who was interviewed a few years ago, after the hurricane? What she said?”

“Of course,” Caleb says. “The banana girl.”

“Yes, exactly. She said one sort of funny, tone-deaf thing in a news report, and then the media turned it into a symbol of that community’s unwillingness to evacuate.”

“I remember that.” Nora’s voice is thoughtful. “You should talk to those people, for your book. Get their stories. What happens after they’ve been a sensation for fifteen minutes.”

“That’s a good idea, yeah. If they’ll talk to me.”

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