Page 22 of Charming Like Us
“Do what?” I reply, but I know what he’s referring to.
He rummages in a drawer for a spoon. His brown eyes keep flitting to me, strands of his hair hitting his lashes. My muscles tense. Why is that so fucking hot?
“You do this thing, Jack, where you try to make everyone feel good. I don’t need that kind of emotional baby blanket.” His eyes touch mine. A beat passing between us. His brows rise. “I’m good.”
“Good,” I say, my chest tightening.
He nods. “Good.”
The air deadens.
I can’t take it. “Oscar, I’m just trying to make this less awkward.”
“That’s not going to be possible.” He pushes the bowl forward, both cereals mixed together. His eyes latch on the contract near the donuts. “Is that one mine?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I dropped Charlie’s contract off to his lawyer on the drive here, and I have a copy for him to sign.” It would’ve been easier to send electronic contracts, but Charlie specified paper instead of digital.
In case of leaks.
While Oscar’s eyes journey over the paper, the sun finally starts to rise. Oranges bleed through the window 21-floors high. Bathing the kitchen, him and me, in rays of light.
It brings me back to the wedding reception. When I was bent over the hatchback as the sun set along the coast, and I turned around. The glow of the waning sun illuminated Oscar Oliveira, and he was gorgeous.
I almost told him.
I’ve told plenty of guys they’re beautiful.
But I stopped myself because that moment felt different than those other times. Maybe I just wanted it to be different.
I clutch my spoon, another knot in my chest. Giving him time to read the fine print, I shovel spoonfuls of cereal in my mouth.
After a minute, he starts shaking his head aggressively.
“What?” I question. “It’s all standard.”
“This says he has to haveat minimumteninterview sessions. Charlie can barely sit down for one.”
This is what I was worried about. “If he wants to do this, he has to put in the time. Either he signs it, or he doesn’t. It’s no sweat to me.”
Oscar doesn’t say anything.
I study him, up and down. “Do you want him to do the show?”
“Answering that would require me to knowwhyhe’s doing it. Which I don’t. He rarely tells me shit.”
“Why is that?”
Oscar gives me a pointed look. “I’m not your subject, Highland.”
“I can just ask Charlie.”
“Go for it,” Oscar says. “I’d love to hear his answer.” He stares down at the contract and flips through the last couple of pages. “You have in here that there’ll be an additional three people involved in crew. From a security standpoint, I’m a little concerned about all of you getting in my way.We Are Callowayfilming lasts ten minutes around him. I can’t have that all day every day. It’s going to be a problem.”
“I need a crew—”
“I need to do my job,” Oscar cuts me off.
I let out a frustrated noise. “And I don’t need to do mine?”
