Page 58 of Hot Set

She raises her glass to me. “Very. True Time is always trying to ship one of their people out here, but I prefer to run my own show with my own team.”

I think of the splashThe Chieftain’s Sonhas already made on the entertainment scene. I raise my whiskey in return. “So far, so good.” We drink. “What happened to the old assistant?” The thought of leaving a show destined for greatness doesn’t make sense to me.

Meg shrugs. “We didn’t mesh. I can be a bit of a task master.” She tries to laugh it off, but I can see there’s a sting there. She points to my clubs in the corner. “I heard after the fact you played in the charity tournament today at Portmarnock. I would have arranged some pictures. We like to tootTheChieftain’s Sonfamily’s philanthropic horn whenever possible.”

My throat tightens. God, what if Jack and I had been together, walking the course? Meg would flip if those pictures got out. I take a calming breath. I’m freaking out over nothing. So what if Jack and the writing assistant were golfing together in a charity tournament? No scandal there.

“You got yourself up to Howth. It’s lovely, eh?”

“It was recommended, so I thought I’d take a peek before I head back to Waterville.”

“It’s fine luck I’ve run into you. Bobby and I started hatching an idea. He thinks very highly of you, you know.”

I search for a casual position, but I feel myself squirming like a preschooler who needs a bathroom break. “That’s nice to hear.”

“We’d like to start a companion podcast to the show. It’ll be a touchpoint for fans between seasons. The plan is to throw in a bit of the history, behind the scenes business, and of course, guests, cast, writers, design team, and the like.” She polishes off half her glass of wine in a long slow draw.

“Sounds interesting.”

She sets the glass on the table a little too firmly and a splash of wine escapes. “Maureen’s salivating to take point, and she asked for you to work with her. What do you think about giving it a go?”

“A go?”

Meg leans on one elbow and points at me with her free hand. “Be Maureen’s right hand. Help her shape the identity of the podcast.”

I’ve started glancing over her shoulder, expecting Jack to show any second. What will I say? Acting surprised may be my only option. Meg’s offer takes a moment to sink in. I gape at her. “What, me?”

She laughs. “Have you not figured out that Bobby’s got a mind to make you more than a single season fixture on the show?” Leaning in closer, she whispers conspiratorially. “If you ask me, I think there may be a bit of an interest there as well. You know what they say about men falling for women who nurse their wounds.”

“I don’t think that theory holds water if the nurse is the one who inflicted the wound.” An image of concussed Bobby under quilts in my bed flashes through my mind. His subtle excuses to touch me, dinner invitations, hints at a future with the show—all those things I wish I hadn’t noticed start to add up.

I take a gulp of hot whiskey. “Your offer is flattering.”

Meg leans back. “It’ll be work, but True Time is keen on the idea. We wouldn’t launch until after season one is put to bed.” She pats my hand. “Mull it over. We’re doing the same. It’s all in the planning stage. Can’t spread key people too thin.”

“I get the impression from Bobby that there won’t be much down time between season one and two, especially for the writers.”

Her head bobs. “True. We might need a whole different team, but core folks would give the podcast a tidy verisimilitude.” Meg flicks her wrist, tabling the issue. “We’ll bat it around back at The Clan.”

Good, it sounds like she’s winding down. I’ve got to get out of here before Jack shows up. I’ll lurk out in front and catch him before he gets inside. “I’d love to be in on the discussion.” I throw back the rest of my hot whiskey as if fortifying myself for a duel. It burns something fierce down my throat all the way to my chest. Liquid scorch rather than liquid courage. What I’d give for an icy diet Dr. Pepper chaser. “Well, I think it’s about time I head out.”

She glances at the clubs and gives me an odd look. “How are you getting back to Waterville?”

Double shit. Jack is my ride. Do I tell her the train? Or a taxi? Uber? What is the least ridiculous answer? Before I blather something, bad goes to worse. The waiter sidles over to set two bowls of steaming seafood chowder in front of us.

“I’ll be back in a pop with your Jameson, love.”

One of Meg’s eyebrows disappears under her bangs. “Didn’t realize you weren’t here solo.”

To my horror, Meg turns to scan the restaurant for my invisible companion just as Jack steps through the arch. His eyes sparkle like candlelight on crystal when they find me. He breaks into the sort of smile that fails to mask his pleasure. A split second too late, he registers Meg.

Fury ripples across her face. She shoots to her feet. In one quick swipe, she thrusts Jack into the booth so his back is to the main room. I’m tempted to crawl under the table and cover my head the way I learned in the California earthquake drills we practiced in school.

Meg pounces onto the seat next to Jack. “What in the holy hell is this?”

God bless him, Jack recovers in a flash. “I asked Gillian up here as a thank you for playing in the charity tournament.”

Meg’s lips twist. “Come on, Jack. Where’s your head at meeting her alone in public after the cock up with the woman in Sneem?” As she glares at him, realization dawns. Her head whips between us. An accusing finger comes at me like a sword. “Youarethe woman from Sneem.”

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