Page 77 of Wild Love
Yours truly,
Rosalie Belmont
Dick Manager
He snorts a laugh, one abruptly covered by a hand and dropped eye contact. We fall back into the tapping of our keyboards and fuck my life—today could not be more awkward if I tried. I catch myself looking at Ford, remembering him as a teenager.
Where I became sure of myself quickly, he didn’t. Physically, he matured slowly, while at sixteen I could have passed for twenty-two. Emotionally, he seemed removed and often fumbled his words around people. As the son of a famous rock star, I think he could have gone one of two ways: life of the party or untrusting and withdrawn.
He was the latter. He learned how to protect himself by using his words and facial expressions as armor. It made him come off cool, maybe even superior, but I see now it was a display of discomfort.
Where I was popular and outgoing, he wasnervous.
It’s with that revelation in mind that I get to the inbox and sift through different emails. One is a request for his presence at a fundraiser and silent auction for a devastating wildfire in Emerald Lake.
Mr. Ford Grant Jr.,
Would you like to attend this event in Emerald Lake in just under two weeks’ time? I believe being able to use your name for marketing purposes would be very charitable indeed. Who doesn’t want to attend a stuffy event with the World’s Okayest Billionaire?
Respectfully,
Rosalie Belmont
Dick Manager
I consider changing my job title again, but Dick Manager has such a wonderful ring to it, and the fact he didn’t respond about my art has me irrationally annoyed with him. Even though he’s working. And I’m supposed to be working. And I know my hormones are taking me on a roller coaster ride right now.
So, I send it the way it is.
Dearest Dick Manager,
Thank you for passing this along. You can RSVP for me and a plus one.
Have a happy day!
Ford Grant
CEO and Head Dick at Rose Hill Records
I blink at the screen and read the simple email over and over again. Searching for a hidden detail. Something I missed. Because who would he take to the event as a plus one?
I scowl at him, but he goes on working, blissfully unaffected. He gets up, puts a record on, and sits back at his desk. Looking carefree while I stew.
It’s possible he’d take Cora.
That could be cute. But then I consider how intensely private he is and decide he wouldn’t expose her that way. His parents were extremely careful with him and Willa, and I suspect he’d be just as protective of Cora.
I start to thoroughly mull over the question. I have no right to care. Even so,hekissedme. And now he’s ignoring me like nothing happened because he’s feeling guilty. I also realize he hasn’t once answered my question about him being single.
It never bugged me before, but now it does. What if I have to sit by while he dates some hot model who wouldn’t be caught dead eating a full bag of chips by herself on a rickety dock?
She’d probably be nice too—she’d probably be hard working and smart, with a thousand degrees, in addition to being extremely hot. And that just makes me hate his imaginary girlfriend even more.
I find myself wondering if he’d have kissed me like that if—no, I know him better than that. Hewouldn’t.
I’m glaring at him now. Arms crossed. Cramps raging. Eyes like lasers.
My email pings.
