Page 60 of Ms. Lead

“So, why am I here, Darcie?” I ask, glancing around at the posh crowd, feeling highly inadequate in my jeans and jacket.

“Well, I wanted to check on you, for one thing,” she snaps, getting just as irritated with me.

Fair play.

“As you can see, I am indeed alive and well.” I force the smile that covers all of my press materials, the fake one.

She sees right through it.

“Alive? Yes. Well? To be decided.” Frowning at me intensely, the concern in her eyes is edging on that line I don’t want her to cross. “You don’t look so well, Oli. What happened in Vegas? I know what happens there stays there or whatever, but something happened, didn’t it?”

God damn it.

I guess three weeks is more time than I could have hoped for to keep my pain to myself. I had to know that eventually, Darcie would get me in this position, where I would need to open up about Bianca.

And I do. I tell her everything. Well, almost everything. Some details wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to divulge, even to a friend. That includes the boat incident. I also skip the six-month break and the February 21st deadline. I don’t want to have to explain it if it doesn’t pan out like I want it to.

It takes Darcie two broken Negronis for me to finish. All the while, I watch her emotions as they unfold for her, and it’s as if I’m watching someone demonstrate what every emotion looks like.

She stares at me long and hard when I finish, choosing her words carefully. I don’t like it. When Darcie is quiet or careful, I never like what follows. Never.

“You’re an idiot, you know that, Oli?”

I laugh, but she’s not smiling as she says this, so this isn’t a joke.

“Right. Thanks. Never said I wasn’t. Brilliant, Darcie.”

Sometimes she can be super unhelpful, like now. I don’t know what I expected. Actually, I didn’t expect to be talking about this today. I thought we were here to talk about my book.

“I have someone I want you to meet.”

That came out of nowhere.

“Oh? Who?” I arch a brow, my gut telling me that I’m not going to like this sudden change of subject.

“His name is Oscar Goodwin. He’s an old friend of my father’s. I’ve told him about you, and he wants to meet you.” She avoids looking at me or even in my general direction, checking her watch anxiously. That’s never a good sign.

This gets even more dubious the more she talks.

“What exactly did you tell this Oscar person about me?”

She waves a hand. “Oh, you know. This and that.”

“Darcie.”

At that moment, she must notice someone she recognizes because her expression turns into relief, and she waves at someone across the restaurant.

Quickly, she leans over and whispers. “Please don’t kill me, but Normandy already told me a couple of weeks ago all about what happened with you and Bianca while you were in Vegas. Also, Oscar is here. I invited him to join us so he could meet you.”

The sensation of being blindsided slams into me at her words. But I don’t have time to register it in time to react. I’m stunned.

She stands, holding a hand out to someone behind me. “Oscar, so good to see you. Here, take my seat.” She picks up her bag, making room for Oscar to sit across from me. “Oscar, this is Oliver Bellamy that I talked to you about. Oliver, this is Oscar Goodwin, whom I just told you about a second ago. Please don’t hate me.” She kisses the top of my head as she passes to leave. “Okay, you two. Have a good talk. Bye now.”

And she’s gone.

I don’t know where to look or what to say. I’m paralyzed by the whirlwind that just blew through here in the form of my best friend, who, I’m thinking, may no longer be my friend. It will depend on the impending conversation with this stranger.

Finally, focusing on him, I see he’s an older gentleman, probably about my father’s age too, with neat greying hair and bright blue eyes. He’s on the thin side and uses a cane that he hooks the silver handle of to the top of the table. As I glance down at it curiously, I note that the handle is in the shape of a fox's head.

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