Her platinum hair was braided and wrapped around her head, her makeup was pure 1950s pinup, and her clothes screamed punk rock. High end punk rock. She was in head-to-toe Dior after all.
Greta spotted us and yelled, waving us over.
“Shit,” we both said, before downing our drinks and making our way through the crowd, Lane dragging me by the hand.
I danced until I was sweaty, forgetting the onlookers with their phones pointed in our direction – or at least ignoring them as best I could. My hair stuck to my neck and back as the alcohol and pulsating music pulled me in and relaxed me. It had been a while since I’d let myself go on a dance floor and it felt freeing. Joyful. A release of pent-up emotions. All my worry for Addie. Stress about work. Irritation towards stupid Graham Forrester.
As he appeared in my mind, he also somehow appeared across the room.
I stopped moving, my breath catching in my throat as I met his gaze through the crowd. And then Lane grabbed my arm and spun me around.
“I need another drink!” she shouted over the music before taking my hand and pulling me through the sea of bodies to the bar.
While she ordered us two more glasses of sparkling wine, I searched the faces for Graham, wondering if he’d been illusion and I was now just seeing him everywhere. But a moment later I spotted him leaning against the partition separating the dance floor from a bunch of tables and chairs, talking to another man.
“Do you know Graham Forrester?” I asked Lane as she handed me a wine glass.
“Who?”
“Graham Forrester. The author.”
“Doesn’t sound familiar. Is he here or something?”
“Yes.”
“He must be a client of Greta and Jessica’s then.” Jessica was the editor Greta worked with. “Why? Do you want to meet him? I can tell Greta to introduce you.”
“No!” I said, shaking my head. “No, no. Not necessary. I was just curious.”
“Curious about what?” We turned to see Greta standing behind us, her cheeks pink from dancing, her adorable micro-bangs plastered to her forehead.
“Lior was asking about Graham…” She looked to me. “What’s his last name again?”
“Nothing,” I said just as Greta said, “Forrester!”
“That’s him,” Lane said.
“Oh! Is he here?” Greta asked, getting on her tiptoes and looking around. “That man is gorgeous. If I were into men, I’d climb him like a jungle gym and swing from his di?—”
“Ack!” I said, pressing my hands to my ears.
“I would actually pay to see that,” Lane said, laughing.
“Do you want to meet him?” Greta asked me.
“No,” I said, firmly. “We’ve met. I was just surprised to see him here.”
“He’s been a client of Jessica’s forever. I worked on his last book, and I get to work on this next one too. He’s really lovely. Sucks what he’s been through. He doesn’t deserve any of it.”
I frowned. Was she talking about what he’d described in that damn article? I mean, it wasn’t that bad. I only yelled at him. He could take it. He was a grown man after all.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said and then sat down on one of the bar stools and fanned herself with a stack of cocktail napkins. “Well, for starters there was his mom’s death a few years ago. They were really close apparently. And then his wife, now ex-wife, cheated on him with one of her clients. And then he had a run-in with some psycho lady in the park and…”
I tuned her out. I did not need to hear one more person rehash my bad behavior. Instead, I sipped my wine and thought about the other things she’d said. About his mom and the ex-wife. Nadia. I’d met her a couple of times before she got into public relations and was still a hard-partying socialite and influencer. I’d never found her very pleasant to be around. She’d been catty and liked to wrangle secrets out of people and then they’d mysteriously end up in the gossip magazines. When I’d heard she’d changed her tune and got into public relations, I’d been skeptical. At one point she’d reached out to my agent in the hope of doing some work for me. When I ran into her at an event where she was representing another model I knew, she asked if I’d reconsider working with her. I’d acted like I had no idea what she was talking about and told her I left all those decisions up to my business manager who I knew really liked the person we’d been working with.
Truth be told, when I’d found out she’d inquired, I’d said hell no.
