The blurry figure solidified into Eli. He sat on a lounger with his legs crossed at the ankles, the collar of his shirt unbuttoned, and a can of beer on the table beside him. His hair stuck up in various directions like it always had in college from him pulling his fingers through it while he was deep in thought. That was a feeling I hadn’t forgotten. My hands in his hair.
“Do you want me to toss some diving rings in?” Eli asked, his gaze briefly dropping from my eyes to my bare shoulders and then quickly over the top of my chest. “Play mermaids?”
I dipped down lower under the water and floated to the stairs near him, not wanting him to see my body because it felt like a million beestings to be perceived by him. “There’s the asshole I remember.”
He didn’t argue, but instead raised his brows expectantly. After taking a long sip from his brightly colored can—probably some bitter IPA that he didn’t like, because anyone who said they liked IPAs was lying—he said, “What are you out here running from, Vera Stein?”
My hair was beginning to frizz, so I dipped my head back and used the moment to consider my answer. “Who said I was running?”
“I don’t know that grown women leave their jobs in Hollywood to jet off to their grandmothers’ retirement communities if they’re not running from something.”
“I wouldn’t have called it a Hollywood job,” I said.
“Looked like one,” he said with a shrug, as though he didn’t actually care and was just passing the time, toying with me.
“And what would you know about my job?”
His lip twitched. “How’s our old friend Brody, anyway?”
“He’s great,” I said, my words coming out like a squeak. “We’ve parted ways, but it was very amicable.”
“I’m surprised he let you go.”
“He didn’t fire me,” I shot back.
“I never said he did. I only meant that Brody needed you and he would do whatever it took to keep you around.” Eli leaned back against the lounger with his head resting against his hands, his body so full and wide that it practically hung off the sides.
Brody would do whatever it took to keep me around? What did he even mean by that? Because giving me a raise certainly wasn’t on that list of things Brody would do.
Before I could figure out how the hell to respond to that, Marlon shot up from a dead sleep and began barking at Eli like he was an intruder. And he was! An emotional intruder!Good boy, Marlon.
The elderly pup scrambled down the side of the lounger and began to circle Eli, attempting to nip at him.
“You’re an angry little guy, aren’t you?” Eli asked.
“He doesn’t like men,” I said as I stepped out of the pool. I felt incredibly exposed in my wet swimsuit even if it was just a one-piece. It was less clothing than anyone besides Brody and my gynecologist had seen me in for quite some time.
Eli’s eyes followed me, his lip nearly curled, as I grabbed my towel, which of course was too small because every fucking towel on the shelf by the entrance was the size of a washcloth. I dried off in a hurry while Marlon continued to bark, exerting more energy than he had in the last three years.
“Except Brody,” I said pointedly as I pulled on my cover-up. Marlon quieted at the sound of Brody’s name. Mainly because he always fed Marlon table scraps when Brody thought I wasn’t looking.
I scooped Marlon up, putting him in what I affectionately referred to as air jail (the best and quickest way to tame my absolutely perfect little asshole dog). I walked out of the pool area without another word as I tossed my micro-towel in the dirty bin.
Chapter Eleven
Leonard’s entryway was overflowing with greenery and the sign on his door saidStay Awhile (Until You’re Asked to Leave). That felt pretty on brand from what little interaction I’d had with him.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Leonard asked as he welcomed me in. He wore a fitted yellow coverall and carried a matching cane. It was a very if-Elton-John-were-a-mechanic vibe. I had a feeling there was a cane for every mood hidden away somewhere.
“I’m fine,” I told him. “Maybe you could show me what you’re trying to sell and we could go from there?”
A chirping sound came from the living room and I peered around the corner to find a bright blue bird with a black-and-white striped head, balancing on a bar inside of an ornate gold cage.
“Oh, that’s Patrick,” Leonard said. “He thinks every visitor is here to see him.”
“Very handsome.” I hoped it wasn’t the bird he was attempting to sell.
“Just follow me on back to the guest room. It’s quite the... remarkable piece. But it was a final sale and—well, you’ll understand when you see it.”
