Page 6 of What Happened Last Night

I rolled over and tried to sleep.

THREE

Will

I was wide awake at five a.m., so I went to the gym. By eight, I had worked out, showered, and dressed. As usual, I spent the whole time thinking. This time, about Luna McQueen.

We’d been cautious for these first three weeks. I’d had a lot of boring legal and paperwork stuff to get done while the Road Kings were on tour, and she’d needed to get her bearings. We’d needed time to get used to each other. But I wanted this to work out—at least on my end—so it was time to show her that this job wasn’t just about sitting in an office alone and filing. It was, in fact, a lot more fun than that.

I’d always worked for myself—I hadn’t spent a day working for someone else since the summer I worked at the sporting goods store when I was eighteen. I was not a nine-to-five guy, and this job was not a normal one. Today, Luna would learn that.

I called her as I left my penthouse and got in the elevator to the parking garage. “Please tell me you’re not at work yet,” I said. It wasn’t yet nine.

“I’m on the streetcar,” she replied in her usual chipper voice. “I’ll be there in ten. Do you need something?”

“I need you to wait on the sidewalk instead of going into the office,” I replied. “I’m picking you up.”

It took her a second. “In a car?”

“Yes, in a car. We’re spending the day at Road Kings Studios.”

This flustered her. “The accountant—”

“I already left him a message.” Like a good boy, I’d checked the schedule Luna made for me for today. There was a phone meeting in the afternoon with one of my accountants, but I’d postponed it. “The schedule is clear, so we’re going to do the good stuff. Have you eaten breakfast?”

“Um, some granola on my way out the door.”

“Okay. Breakfast, then the studio,” I said. My signal was about to get cut off as I entered the parking garage. “I’ll be there soon.”

I crossed the garage and got into my silver BMW. I was raised in Brooklyn and was a lifelong New Yorker, so I rarely drove. Walking, transit, and cabs were my usual. But the studio was over the Washington border in Vancouver, which meant driving. In a traffic jam, probably. I was used to those, too. I flipped through my music library, cranked the Black Keys, and drove.

When I pulled up in front of the office, Luna was waiting. She was wearing one of her vintage dresses, this one the style that buttoned up the front to a collar. A shirtdress, I thought it was called. It looked good on her. I would not say that out loud, because I did not comment on my assistants’ appearances. That kind of commentary was unwelcome, even when it was complimentary.

“I feel like I’m playing hooky from school,” she confessed as she got into the passenger seat and I turned the music down. Her eyes went wide as she wiggled in the buttery leather upholstery.

“Get used to the feeling,” I said. I pointed to her laptop bag. “Put that in the back. You don’t need it. What do you want for breakfast? I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.”

“I know a good place.”

I tapped the GPS panel on the dash as I pulled into traffic. “Put it in the navigation.”

Luna’s skin was flushed slightly pink as she tapped the buttons. Her nails were short and nicely manicured. “I think this is the best job I’ve ever had,” she said.

My brain ticked over, recalling her resume. She’d had two jobs before this one. “Breakfast impresses you?” I asked.

She laughed, the sound slightly bitter. “Let’s see. My first job after college was at the architecture firm. I thought it sounded glamorous. In reality, they were a bunch of douchebags. I literally fetched coffee, sorted mail, and answered the phone. I’m not sure any of them learned my name in three years. It was like getting a job inside a Mad Men script.”

I nodded, stopping at a light and signaling to make a left.

“Then I worked at the shipping company,” Luna went on. “If I was five minutes late, I got written up. I wasn’t allowed to leave for a doctor’s appointment. But I had to cover the receptionist’s cigarette breaks, which she took every hour. So I got penalized for five minutes away from my desk, but she didn’t get penalized for seven breaks a day, plus a lunch hour. Which I also had to cover. There were a million stupid problems like that, but I couldn’t find another job unless I quit first so I could go do interviews. Because I had almost no vacation time.” She leaned back in her seat. “It was a relief when the company went under, to be honest.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “And now I’m being driven around in a luxury car by my boss. During work hours.”

She hadn’t deserved to be treated like that. I couldn’t picture treating Luna like furniture. She had too much presence, too much personality. “I hate office politics,” I said. “The best way to avoid them is to have only one employee. And not to work in an office.”

She laughed as if I’d made a joke. I’d actually been rather serious. But if she thought me witty, I’d go along with it.

The place she’d picked was a deli run by an Italian couple. At the counter, I ordered eggs, toast, and fruit salad, and Luna ordered a breakfast sandwich. We served ourselves juice and coffee and sat down at one of the tables, waiting for our order to arrive.

Sitting across from my assistant, I had no choice but to look at her. I did it carefully, without too much eye contact. She wore a charm bracelet that made a pleasant sound when it moved, but no rings. Her dress was short-sleeved, and her arms were slim and graceful. She was a brunette. I had never yet seen her wear her hair up. It was cut just past her shoulders, curling in a way that was obviously natural, and she always wore it down.

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