Page 145 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“On the Thames,” I smile.
“Romeo.”
“'Wherefore art thou.'”
Mike drops the contract on top of the others on the coffee table. “What about you?”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“But let’s say I do. Because I, too, don’t want anyone I love to give up what makes her happy or fulfilled for my dreams.”
I melt just a little more for this man. “One, representing clients in the entertainment industry would be the right blend of stakes and purpose for me. Two, working remotely when it isn’t for soulless, spineless corporations, but for passionate artists whowant to share their talent with the world, is something that will definitely get me out of bed in the morning. Three, contract law is lucrative.”
“Oh?” Mike sips my ginger ale.
“Not corporate-law lucrative. Not I-own-a-charming-beachfront-Airbnb-in-La-Jolla lucrative. But definitely I-can-rent-an-apartment-in-London lucrative and spend the weekends seeing shows in the West End with my boyfriend.”
Mike twists the bottle in his hand. “Am I hearing this right? You’re retiring from FroggoDoggo? Hanging up the leash for good?”
“Oh, I’m totally keeping dog walker on my business cards. Right after entertainment, intellectual property, and international law. Makes me stand out from the pack.”
“You’ve always been a standout.”
I blush, but I’m a professional lawyer right now. Even if I am dressed in a gauzy skirt and lacy blouse instead of a pantsuit. “I reviewed their offer. There’s room to negotiate. Particularly if we want to spend January here at home.” I pull a second contract from the file.
“What’s this?”
“Sign if you want me to represent you. I totally understand not wanting to mix your professional and personal life, but in the interests of the time-sensitive nature of this opportunity, I’d advise you to hold your nose and go for it.” I flip to the third page. “I do have a very generous termination clause for if/when you want out.”
Mike examines the contract.
“Incidentally, I leveraged your Princess Kitty moment when I sent over your audition packet. So something good came from going viral.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “And payment?” He flips to the compensation section. “One reserved seat for every show in perpetuity… Heirs… What does this mean in plain English?”
“I’d like a seat saved for me at every one of your shows. And should any of your heirs continue in the family legacy, I want a seat at their shows.”
“My heirs.”
“It’s not a prenup. I thought these contracts were overwhelming enough as it is. But if you want, I’ll call Julie, and she’ll start drafting one now.”
“Are you proposing to me?”
“Not yet.” I mean it as a joke, but he’s staring at me with such intensity I have to clarify. “You’re vulnerable right now, Mike. I don’t want you making any decisions about our future because you feel beholden or grateful.”
He cradles my head in his hands. I rest my hands on his wrists.
“I don’t want to jeopardize our relationship just as it is getting off the ground.”
“Bea… Beatrice Hero McKinney… I don’t know what to say.”
“‘Peace. I’ll stop your mouth’ with a kiss?” We could start there? Or you could start reciting a sonnet. Number 128 is a sexy one.”
“‘Since saucy jacks so happy are in this’? No.” Mike laughs. “That’s a terrible sonnet. It doesn’t even sound like Shakespeare.” He tears off a strip of blank paper from the margin of the contract and balls it up like he’s going to throw it at me.
“Because he was so freaking in love and fixated on his Dark Lady’s lips.” The alarm on my phone goes off. “Whatever you decide, Mike, is cool. But you were right. I do have ideas about what I want my life to look like. I’m not going to settle or wait thirty-five years like my mom did. And I’m done vibing. My community needs my talents. Time to make it happen.” I watchas he fidgets with the bit of paper he tore from the contract, folding and twisting it. “I think we’re good together. I think I’ve made my feelings for you clear. If you want to throw it in, sell the house, and spend the rest of your life hiding in my brother’s escape room, I get it. You do you.” I kiss his cheek before rising. “I gotta dash.”
“Dogs don’t walk themselves.” He looks up long enough from the bit of paper to catch my eye.
