Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Kieran

"Please don't break another pen," Ellie said as we waited in the Alchemy conference room for Tad.

Her face and voice were dull, the opposite of the red-mouthed, burning-bright woman in the restaurant a few days ago. I guessed she wasn't excited to be called in for an emergency meeting, either.

I spun the Alchemy-branded ballpoint, then threw it in the air and caught it. "They won't miss it. It's a cheap piece of crap. They probably have thousands of them in a supply closet somewhere."

She smoothed a wrinkle on the skirt of her charcoal-gray dress. "That's not the point."

I tossed the pen again. "What is the point?"

She paused, her eyes flaring, then swallowed. "Never mind," she said quietly, clasping her hands in her lap. "It doesn't matter."

That's right. What mattered was that we'd been dragged into the principal's office because she couldn't wait for me to figure my shit out.

"Sorry I'm late," Tad said as he bustled in. "A call from the publisher. Sy is very excited about your book, Kieran."

"Thanks," I said.

"Gosh, it's dim in here." Ellie's hand came up in front of her eyes when he raised a shade and blasted us with afternoon sunshine.

Now Tad was looking at his monitor. "Ellie Wasserman: Feminist Icon." He clicked. "Ellie Wasserman: Every Smart Woman Who's Had to Deal with a Mediocre Man." Click. "Ellie Wasserman: Raging Man-Hating Rhymes-with-Witch."

"But that's so wrong," Ellie said indignantly. "I'm not a misandrist. I was just trying to get my work done. Isn't that what you pay me for?"

Tad pressed his forehead into his palms. "I take your point, Ellie, but the last time I checked, having a public temper tantrum wasn't in your job description. I'm surprised, and I'm disappointed."

The last word was like a needle, and Ellie instantly deflated. "I'm so sorry, Tad," she told her lap. "I shouldn't have drawn attention to myself."

I watched her make herself small in her chair, and something inside me kicked hard. I'd spent the first two-thirds of my life getting blamed for anything that went wrong within a mile of me, but she hadn't had a screaming fight by herself.

Tad sat forward. "Well, I wasn't expecting to get attention for the book this early in the process, but it's not all bad. Alisha in publicity says most of what she's picking up on socials is positive. People are even more excited for Kieran's book."

Ellie looked up, eyes wary. "You're not going to fire me?"

"Not at all, but I do want an explanation for your behavior. What exactly happened?"

Ellie took a deep breath. "He invited Nicole and me to the dinner," she said slowly, eyeing me as she spoke in flat tones. "I asked him what his thinking was behind the menu, and I found his answers evasive and unhelpful. I should have let it go, tried some other time, but I was pretty emotional at that point, and I snapped at him. And then he said something that hurt my feelings, so I said something rash back."

"Kieran?" Tad asked. "Do you agree with Ellie's account?"

"Yeah." I recognized everything she was saying. Neither of us looked good. But Ellie didn't have a public-facing job, and I did. She wasn't hoping to have her own restaurant, and I was. The anger climbed back up my chest and I said, "But did you really have to scream at me in front of everybody, including my boss? Why couldn't you just chill the fuck out?"

Ellie threw up her hands. "If you're not writing anything, and you won't answer my questions, and your cooking style changes by the week, what am I supposed to do?" Those last words were almost begging, like she was bewildered, lost.

"I was going to do it eventually." I hated the childish whine in my voice, but her exasperation reminded me too much of my parents' sighs and growls. "I have a lot of other stuff going on besides this book. Why don't you get that?"

All of a sudden, her face fell. "Is it me? Do you dislike me?"

My jaw dropped a little at how brave she was. I couldn't give her direct question a direct answer, though. It wasn't her fault that I had a history of everyone getting annoyed at me for being myself, but it didn't make her attitude bug me any less.

It didn't help that if I'd met her anywhere else, I would've wanted in her bed.

Ellie looked at Tad after I'd stayed quiet. "Maybe you need a different ghostwriter."

"Let's not be hasty here," Tad replied. The phone rang, and he lifted the receiver and punched a button. "Hello, Tobias, thank you for joining us."

"Tad, let's get this done fast," my agent's deep, drawling voice said. "Kieran, bro, you need to listen to Tad. The ghostwriter gets paid to make this happen for you. You have to let her do her job."

"I have a name," Ellie grumbled quietly.

"The book is going to be a big part of your brand," Tobias continued, not hearing her. "It's critical for future projects, understand? Now, are you going to be a good leprechaun and go make us a pot of gold?"

I tried not to flinch at the nickname. It wasn't just about the money, though that definitely helped. I had to prove I could achieve something on my own. "Fine," I said shortly.

"Great. Talk to you later. Toodles, Tad." And he was gone.

"But Tad," Ellie blurted, cheeks flushed.

"What?" Tad said impatiently.

Ellie winced, but kept going. "We're not compatible."

I mean, we were compatible in the sense that a tiny part of me wanted to know what she tasted like. But the rest of me wanted to break a whole box of cheap pens.

Tad shook his head. "No, Ellie. It has to be you." He dragged his fingers through his light gray hair. "I haven't had to do this before, but I think it's time for extreme measures."

"Extreme?" Ellie said.

"I'm sending you both to my cottage in Sonoma. You'll stay there for a week, and when we meet again at the beginning of March, you should have a list of recipes and a broad structure for the book."

What the hell? He couldn't ground us like we were twelve years old. "But I have work !" I said.

"So do I!" Ellie snapped.

We glared at each other until Tad said my name. I turned back to him and he said, "I spoke with Anh Hutton and Steve Yuan, and they're willing to release you for a week." He looked at Ellie. "And, Ellie, I know you haven't left town in over two years."

"How did you…"

"Instagram doesn't lie. And it's been far too easy to book you."

For a split second, the stern boss disappeared and something gentler and sadder took its place. Ellie closed her eyes and exhaled like an invisible burden had dropped onto her shoulders.

When she opened them, she said quietly but firmly, "If you need me to go, I'll go. Please tell me there's more than one bed in this place."

He stared at her for a second. "I'm not a monster. There's a king-sized bed in the primary and a futon in the office. You'll have to flip for it."

I couldn't keep the confusion off my face. We were adults here, no one had to share a bed with anybody if they didn't want to, and I absolutely, positively did not want to go to bed with her.

Be in bed. I didn't want to be in bed with her.

Ellie

"Can you wait a moment?" Tad said to me.

After we'd hashed out the dates for our imprisonment, Kieran had oh-so-casually ambled out the door, while I'd paused to reorganize my beat-up old purse. It had looked like a professional black leather tote two years ago, but now the cheap vinyl was splitting around the straps from all the stuff I carried. Maybe if I had any money left over from a down payment, I'd buy something sturdier.

"Are you all right? You look ill," he said.

"Didn't sleep last night." Diane had knocked on my door at ten and talked at me about Max and how terrible everything was for two hours. After consoling her, I was too depressed to sleep.

He exhaled and settled back in his desk chair. "OK. I wanted to talk about you and Kieran."

"What about us?" Not that we'd ever be an "us" in a million years. Empires would rise and fall and he'd be pestering me in the ruins.

He tented his fingers, studying me. "He needs someone to keep him on task."

"The last time I checked, the job description for ghostwriters didn't include babysitting."

"Not babysitting. Just some supervision. He doesn't have your discipline."

"Every Smart Woman Who's Had to Deal with a Mediocre Man" went through my head. Though Kieran wasn't mediocre. He was talented. Handsome. And really, really annoying.

I tried to stifle my impatience when I asked, "Why aren't you telling him to be responsible for his own behavior? He's a grown man."

"A lot is riding on this book." Tad took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. He had so much more gray in his light blond hair than when we'd met over a decade ago. When had that happened?

"What are you not telling me?" I asked.

"The editorial board isn't happy with the results from my last few projects."

"But the Jamaican book Roland Campbell wrote is seminal. People in the field will be talking about it decades from now. And that patisserie book from the place in LA was stunning. And award-winning."

"Sy says seminal and stunning aren't selling." He exhaled. "Alchemy needs Kieran and his fanbase. And I really need you to ensure that this process is as smooth as possible. You've never missed a deadline, and you've never been over budget."

He'd stood by me when I'd needed him to. I couldn't bear to disappoint him. "I'll get it done."

He reached out and patted my hand. "I know you will," he said with a tired smile. "You're so dependable."

I smiled back weakly. Forget no rest for the wicked; the truth was that there was no rest for the good.

My phone buzzed.

Ben: How about The Thin Man tonight? We'd love your company.

I'd wished for an evening of Floyd in my lap and a romance novel in my hand, but that was OK. Diane had been the one to introduce me to the fizzy joy of black-and-white movies. Watching one with them would be a little taste of the before times.

When I came out of the office, Kieran stood up from one of the lobby chairs. At least he'd made a minuscule amount of effort for the emergency meeting. His blue-and-green flannel shirt only had a few big wrinkles in it. I ignored how beautifully the colors contrasted with his hair, how they made his eyes look like ice.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked incredulously.

He shoved his hands in his jeans' frayed pockets and bounced a little bit. "I figured it'd be better if we talked about the trip face-to-face."

He couldn't have brought this up in the office? "I'll just send you an email. It'll be faster."

He snorted. "And risk you coming to the restaurant and yelling at me again? No thanks."

I felt like I'd done more eye-rolling in the month since I'd met him than I'd done in the past decade. If anyone came up with an eye-roll jar, Kieran would bankrupt me in a week. "Well, I'll meet you up there, obviously."

He shrugged. "Not so obviously, I don't own a car."

I blinked. How did he even survive? Public transport in the Bay Area was haphazard at the best of times. I wouldn't dare rely on it. "You're a Californian adult and you don't own a car?"

He raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm a bunch of Muppets in a trench coat. I don't know how it took you so long to figure that out."

That wasn't that funny. But my mouth curled involuntarily.

"Have you tried looking for a parking space in the Mission every single day?" he said. "Zero out of ten, would not recommend. I bike everywhere. Or run."

"I suppose if you're in good enough shape, you could ride your bike to Sonoma," I thought aloud.

He laughed. "Yeah, no. I'm not one of those Lycra guys. I'll get a Lyft up."

I was already visualizing the hit on the expenses spreadsheet. "No, I'll drive us up."

"Suit yourself. I live at Twenty-Third and Bryant in the Mission."

I scoffed. "If you think I'm driving in and out of the City during rush hour, you've got another think coming."

He tilted his head and mused. "I always thought it was ‘thing coming.'"

I didn't have time for his deep thoughts on word usage. "It's not." My phone buzzed again, probably Diane doubling up on Ben's message. "I need to head out. Meet me at my house on Thursday at four. I'll email you the address—please don't ignore it. Bring your knife roll, too."

He put his hands up. "Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?"

I paused. A string of adjectives that Max had used for me popped into my head. Shy. Quiet. Soft. "No," I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. "Never."

His green eyes held mine, reflecting back my shock. Like we'd accidentally done a magic trick.

"What?" I said eloquently.

"Well. You are. So there." As if that third-grade phrase won the argument. He waved a hand in the air to dismiss the spell we'd cast over each other. "See you Thursday."

"Fine," I said, snapping myself out of it. "Thursday."