Remember When 2 (22 page)

   And what had I done the whole time he was here? Used him for my own selfish career gains and then promptly blew him off.

 
I rolled over and stared out the window. Aside from being exhausted and out of sorts, I was also feeling mildly buzzed.

   That’s the only reason I was crying as I fell asleep.

Chapter 21

HANGING UP

   The next morning, with only about three hours’ worth of sleep in me, I couldn’t get to the newsstand fast enough to pick up my Sunday copy of
New York Today
. I practically threw my money at poor Felix before bounding up the stairs to my apartment, scattering the sections across my bed. I dug around until I came up with my copy of
Now!,
finding a full page cover shot of Trip for my efforts. Even on grainy newspulp, the picture looked fantastic, his fitted white T-shirt hinting at the smooth, muscular chest underneath, his piercing blue eyes jumping right off the page.

   It was a never-before-seen studio shot that Rajani in the art department had hunted down for me, and I was glad, because right there, no matter how many articles were written about him from the junket or the other interviews that day, I knew
my
story’s picture would immediately stand out from the standard promo packet offerings.

   The words, “TRIP WILEY: HOLLYWOOD’S HOTTEST RISING STAR” were aligned neatly in a column next to the pic and “An interview with
Now!
reporter Layla Warren” in smaller type underneath.

  
Reporter
Layla Warren
! I was practically giddy.

   I flipped in a few pages, until I found the actual article itself. Formatted beautifully over two entire pages, my words (
my words
!) were framed around a few carefully chosen shots from Trip’s life. They’d used a stock photo from the publicity packet for the main inside shot, but I ended up digging out my yearbook and pulling a few from my own private collection for the insets.

   I’d titled it “Quite a Trip”, and the words were right there printed on the page in 48-point-font above the studio still of a very intense-looking Trip Wiley. I’d highlighted his “
I’ve never shied away from hard work
” quote, which was enlarged and bolded and plunked right in the middle of the article.

   It looked spectacular.

   Even though I’d written the damnable thing, I sat there cross-legged on my bed and read every word in its entirety all over again. The interview had required some extensive editing before my final draft, but I managed to turn it into a really great piece, offering a much more personal side to Trip than would be found in any other periodical that year. I’d straddled the line between my own personal relationship and professional, detached journalist perfectly. The story wasn’t supposed be about me, after all. It was all about him. I hoped he’d agree that I’d done him justice.

   I sat down at my computer and ripped off a quick email to a few special people, attaching the story from the
Now!
website, because I knew a handful of them wouldn’t have known about it nor been able to access it otherwise.

   That’s about the time my phone started ringing off the hook, and it didn’t stop the entire morning. The chain-phoning started with Sylvia, but I barely got in a full conversation with her before she passed the receiver off to my father.

   “Hi Dad!”

   “Loo, the article looks terrific! And Trip looks all grown up. Didn’t I say that, Sylvia? How grown up he looks?”

   I could hear her agreeing in the background as I asked, “Did you see the photo credit I gave you? Alongside the graduation shot?”

   “No, I… Ha! There it is. Kenneth Warren! Look, Sylvie, I’m famous!”

   I started cracking up. Leave it to Dad to get so excited. “Dad! Focus!” I laughed out.

   “I’m just kidding, sweetheart. We love the article. You did a fantastic job, really.”

   “Thanks.”

   “You and Lisa coming swimming later? I haven’t seen her since hearing the big news.”

   “No, sorry. It’s a New York Sunday this week. She’ll be coming in later. But I think Pickford said he was going to head over. She’ll probably drop him off and then pick him up after our lunch, though, so you can see her then.”

   Pick didn’t need a reason to visit my father, but using the pool was as good an excuse as any. It was pretty much the only time the poor guy wasn’t in pain. I happened to believe that my dad’s pool held mystical healing powers, too, and it sucked that I was missing out on the final weeks of using it. The thing had a heater, but it was still going to need to be closed up in the next week or so. It was Jersey, after all.

   “Sounds good, Loo. I’ll defrost some hot dogs.”

   I had the sharpest pang of homesickness when he said that. I hadn’t lived in the man’s house for close to a decade, but suddenly, all I wanted was to crawl into my old bed, in my old room, and just be a kid again. Strange to have that thought on the very day my big career was being launched. Stranger still that the thought could have been brought on by the mere mention of some frost-bitten Sabretts.

   I was just saying my goodbyes as the phone beeped, so I clicked over to talk to Lisa.

   Even though I was going to see her in a few more hours for our lunch date, she was way too excited about the article to wait until then to offer her congratulations. I was pretty excited to talk to her, too. We couldn’t really find a private moment at the bar the night before, and it was too loud to have any sort of in-depth conversation anyway. I was just dying to tell her everything that had happened on Friday. We kept the conversation trained on my article, though, knowing we could save the rehash of my Trip evening until lunch.

   I hung up with her just as Bruce called—probably at my father’s reminder—but I took the sentiment as it was offered and thanked him profusely for the congrats.

   But when I picked up the phone and heard Cooper’s voice, I nearly squealed into his ear. We liked to think of ourselves as still in touch with one another, even though we’d sometimes go entire months without speaking. He was actually a practicing whatever lawyer down in Baltimore, and I knew he was putting in crazy hours gunning for a promotion at his firm.  

   “Cooper! It’s so good to hear your voice, my friend. How are you?”

   “I’m good. Exhausted. Cranky. But good. But the real question is: how are
you
, Miss Famous New York Reporter?”

   “I’m great! Flying pretty high right now. You read it?”

   “Of course I read it. The second I got your email. It was great. I think the best part was when you mentioned the ‘love triangle’ Trip was embroiled in back in high school.”

   I started cracking up. “Yeah, well, I suppose you would, Angle C.”

   Just then, my call waiting beeped in. I asked Coop to hang on and flashed over.

  
Click!

  
“Hello?”

   “I was
not
a cocky teenager.”

   Ha! It was Trip. I’d finally answered one of his calls, and I couldn’t even talk right then. But I knew I would be answering from then on. I laughed in his ear and asked him to call me back in five minutes.

   “Wait, Layla, I-”

  
Click!

   “Hey Coop, speaking of love triangles... I’ll give you one guess who that was on the other line.”

   He guessed correctly, I confirmed, we laughed. We chatted for a few more minutes. He told me all about work and the girl he was seeing in the rare minutes of free time.

   “Gosh, Coop. Sounds like you’re really burning it at both ends these days.”

   “I am. But Suzy’s been great. She’s very patient.”

   “And also very lucky,” I gushed.

   I figured it was as good a time as any to tell him about my engagement to Devin. Aside from Lisa and Trip, he was the only other person I’d spilled the news to.  

   “Engaged? Holy shit, Layla. Congratulations. I’m kinda stunned here.”

   “Yeah, well, me too!”

   He laughed. “That’s great, though. You sound happy. It’s been a while since I’ve heard the old you.”

  
Why does everyone keep saying that?

   But I didn’t open up that can of worms and just said, “Thanks.”

   “Huh. Wow. So how long have you-”

  
Beep!

   “Crap. Hey, Coop, I’m sorry. I gotta wrap this up. I’m pretty sure that’s Trip calling back. I already blew him off to talk to you. I’d better get that before he-”

  
Beep!

   “Okay, but call me back later in the week. I want to get the whole story about this Devin character.”

   “You got it. Love you! Bye!”

   “Love you, too. Bye.”

  
Click!

   “Hello?”

   “Cocky.
Cocky
? Really, Layla?”

   I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. “Trip, I’m sorry, but this can’t actually be coming as a surprise now, can it?”

   “You make it sound like I was an asshole.”

   “No, I didn’t. I made you sound
confident
. Noticed. Desired. Only slightly arrogant. Which, you know, sometimes you are.”

   I’d meant to say “were”. I didn’t have any claim on who he was presently. After years of growing apart, I’d essentially only known the adult version of Trip for a couple days.

   “Now I’m
arrogant
? Layla, you’re killing me here.”

   I knew he was just busting my chops, so I bypassed another apology and asked, “Ever hear of artistic license? Sometimes a reporter is required to use a bit of exaggeration in her writing. It makes for a more interesting story. But okay, cockiness aside, what did you think of the rest of the article, Mr. Hollywood’s Hottest Rising Star?”

   He conceded. “Well, I liked when you called me
that
.” We laughed. “And I really liked the part where you hinted at all the sexual energy in the room during the interview. Was that just for the story, too?”

   I’d specifically chosen the word
energy
over
tension
. The latter implied it was something between us as opposed to just something he was giving off. But he knew better. And so did I.    

   The safety of the handset between us allowed me to toss out, “Sometimes a reporter is required to be brutally honest as well.”

   I could hear his shock over the phone. Seriously. It sounded like he’d just gotten punched in the gut. It was staggering.

   His breath expelled as he pulled himself together. “Hey, uh. It’s my last full day in town. I was going to swing by my mother’s house and say goodbye. You want to come?”

   Bad idea.

   “I can’t. Lisa’s coming into the city. We have a lunch date.”

   I explicitly didn’t invite him. And he could tell that I didn’t.

   “How about tonight? You can meet me at the hotel.”

   NO!

   “Probably not the best idea, Trip.”

   “Look. I really want to see you before I go. Can’t we... I mean, isn’t there any way...”

   “Probably not,” I answered, despondently.

   I was aching. Like, literally freaking aching about it. But I knew that if we spent any more time together, the temptation would be too strong. After our near miss on the roof on Friday and my reaction to his phone message the night before… there was just no way.

   He finally broke the awkward silence, finally decided to wrap it up. “Well, thanks for the article. I really loved reading it.”

   “You’re welcome. I enjoyed writing it.”

   “Look me up if you’re ever in Cali.”

   “You got it.”

   There was a silent pause between us, an uncomfortable space in our exchange as I waited for him to say something even remotely resembling a goodbye. Of course it’s not how I wanted to end things, but there just wasn’t any other way.

   “Yeah. Here’s the thing. I’m not leaving without seeing you.”

Chapter 22

HIGH FIDELITY

   Six hours later, I watched from my doorway as Trip bounded up the stairs to my apartment. He’d buzzed. I’d let him in. My heart lurched at the sight of him.

   I was sure I was going to Hell.

   I’d spent the earlier part of the day at an Asian-fusion place on Bleecker under the guise of having lunch with Lisa, but basically using the time for a debriefing of the events from Friday night. She kept waiting for the big sex scene, and I knew she was disappointed when it didn’t come. Or when
I
didn’t. I wasn’t quite sure.

   Trip gave me a quick peck on the cheek before scanning his eyes around the entryway. I thought he was doing his perimeter-check thing again, but he was clearly looking for something in particular. “It’s not here yet? It was supposed to be here today.”