Page 160 of The Rom-Commers

Her office was bigger than my family’s entire apartment, by the way. And she had a Georgia O’Keeffe painting—an original painting, not a poster from a museum store—on the wall behind her desk. And she was terrifying.

Terrifying in the most fantastic way.

I didn’t wind up seeing Charlie, though. Donna Cole is an exceptionally busy woman, and the only hole in her schedule happened to be just when Charlie was headed to the Biltmore hotel to receive a screenwriting award.

Another one. He was gonna need a bigger drawer.

Oh, well. So much for the crown braid, mani-pedi, and new moisturizer I’d invested in before leaving town. Not to mention the three different outfits I’d panic-bought—settling on a crisp blue shirtdress and some sandals that actually fit—for nothing.

His loss, I guess.

At the end of the meeting, as Donna was dismissing us, she gave a pretend pout: “I can’t believe Charlie Yates picked getting another award over seeing me.”

“Lunacy,” Logan agreed, as Donna air-kissed him goodbye.

Then she turned her attention to me, and said, “Don’t ever let Charlie write anything again without you.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, feeling like a liar.

Her assistant was waiting for her, but Donna stopped us at the door.

“I almost forgot,” she said.

Logan and I turned back.

“It’s not official, but we’ve got Jack Stapleton attached to star.”

“Jack Stapleton?” I asked. “Attached? To star?”

Logan was smiling like this wasn’t news to him.

“That was all Charlie,” Donna said.

“But,” I said, and this I’d learned from Charlie himself, “I thought only casting directors chose the actors for movies.”

Donna gave a nod likeOf courseas she said, “Unless the writer and the star happen to be in cahoots.”

“Are they?”

“Jack will do anything for Charlie,” Donna said, nodding at Logan for confirmation. “Didn’t he just go to a hospital in Texas to serenade an old man?”

Logan did not meet my eyes.

Donna was still trying to remember the details. “The man was very sick—just out of the ICU. And Charlie couldn’t stop worrying about him, so Jack offered to pop in randomly—like he’s famous for.”

I looked at Logan.

He looked at Donna.

“And then,” Donna went on, squinting at Logan, like he would probably know, “didn’t he take the nurses aside afterward to say, ‘Please take extra-special care of my dear friend’?”

Finally, Logan glanced my way. “Something like that,” Logan answered. “Yeah.”

THE SECOND WEwere in Logan’s car, I said, “Was she talking about my dad just now?”

Logan pretended to be busy with his seat belt.

“The old man in Texas? That had to be my dad, right?”

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