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"You think?"
"See! This is why he's so difficult to talk to," she says. "But, I do agree. We should be partners in this mission. Not adversaries."
"You two are ridiculous," Zack says.
"I want her to be healthy as much as you do," she says. "And I'll call you with my findings when I'm back in L.A." Zack clears his throat. "Or sooner if there is something to talk about." She turns to Zack. "Is that good enough?"
"Perfect." Zack turns to me. "You want to watch with us? We're marathoning Battlestar Galactica."
"That's okay."
"You'd like it," she says. "It's way better than Law and Order."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"But it's a scientific fact," she says. "All the lawyers on it are greasy jerks."
"Thanks," I say.
Laurie smirks, very proud of herself. "You should see President Roslin. She's--"
"As much of a head bitch in charge as you are," Zack says.
"Shut the fuck up! It's rude to call your friend a bitch, especially when she's kindly letting you stay in her spare room." She sticks her tongue out at Zack. Then she looks back to me with a hint of concern. It must be bad if Laurie is concerned. "I'll walk you out."
When we're out of earshot of Zack, she whispers to me. "I really do want her to be okay, and I will hold it against you if you fuck that up."
"Right back at you."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alyssa
The high-pitched ring of my doorbell wakes me.
Laurie.
What is she doing here so early? She's supposed to come over after her big, important New York meeting.
The doorbell rings again. And again. Yep, there's no mistaking it. That's definitely Laurie.
"I'm coming," I say and I roll out of bed.
I drag my heels to the door, squinting to block out the brightness. It's too early to be this bright.
Laurie greets me with a smirk. "I know you normally reserve that line for your boyfriend," she says. And she jumps, yes, jumps into my arms. Like a puppy. "Girl, I missed you. It feels like it's been a century."
"I'd figure you and Luke would be happy to be rid of me, since you both colluded to get me here."
Laurie shrugs, sheepish. "You're not glad you're performing on Broadway?"
"The theater isn't technically on Broadway," I say.
"Broadway means neighborhood. It doesn't necessitate a Broadway address." She enters, shutting the door behind her. She's not carrying any luggage, just a purse and a truly beautiful takeout cup of coffee.
"What happened to your meeting?" I ask.
"Had it early. The producer had to be on location today. We met at six a.m.," she shakes her head. "Horrifying, right?"
