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Eric shook his head. "Jesus Christ. You drive me crazy."
"Chase doesn't want to drive you crazy, but he does want to look at real estate in Beacon Hill," Chase said, continuing to taunt Eric.
"Um," I said, interrupting them, "I have a question." I decided to shove the errant, problematic thoughts from my head and focus on business.
"Please," Eric said, "anything to make him stop. Shoot."
"What's going to happen when I'm done working for you guys?" I blurted out, unable to keep the words from tumbling out. This issue had been bothering me since Elena told me about the assignment, but the long line of press cars following us and my sister's escalating set of demands made it seem more pertinent. I needed this to work so I could get paid and get out of this situation in one piece—and Chase did, too. "Isn't everyone going to know that this was all an act?"
Chase looked stymied, and Eric looked vaguely thoughtful. "We're still figuring out the exit strategy," he said.
"We are?" Chase asked. He shrugged. "I hate to admit it, but I was so worried about getting this whole thing started, I hadn't started worrying about how to end it."
Eric patted him on the arm. "We'll handle it when the time comes, buddy. You don't need to worry about it, either, okay Avery? We're just getting warmed up. Let's relax and enjoy the ride." He smiled knowingly at me. Enjoy the ride, indeed.
He turned back to Chase. "Your relationship will seem more natural if we don't plan the whole thing out. Like there's really something going on between you to." He gave his friend a long, probing look. "Unless of course, we don't need to worry about that because something is going on with you two…"
I felt myself start to blush, and Chase scowled at Eric. "Stop digging."
Eric held his hands up in mock defeat. "Whatever you say, Boss."
We drove through Chinatown into the sleek Leather District. Industrial and more traditional, brick buildings intermixed and soared, side-by-side, into the skyline. We pulled down Beach Street, past a wine bar and a high-tech office, and parked. "This is it," Eric said, hopping out and motioning to an impressive high-rise.
A handsome, well-dressed man waved toward us from down the street. The sun glinted off of his dark skin and accentuated the whiteness of his teeth when he smiled.
"Is that the broker?" Chase asked. "He dresses better than you, Eric."
"Can you stop talking now?" Eric asked, watching the broker. "That is a nice suit, though."
The man reached us and held out his hand to Chase. "I'm Jackson Pryce."
Chase grabbed his hand. "Chase Layne."
Jackson's polite smile turned into a grin. "I'm a huge fan. Are we looking good this year?"
"As soon as I get back out onto the field, we'll be looking a lot better." He motioned to me. "This is my girlfriend, Avery. And my agent, Eric Taylor."
"A pleasure," Jackson said. "Let's go take a look at this unit. It's top-of-the-line. Unless you want to wait for these gentlemen." He motioned toward the cars that were pulling up behind ours, cameramen spilling out of them.
"We can wait for a minute," Eric said. He positioned me next to Chase and smoothed both of our hair while he continued to talk to the broker. "What's the neighborhood like?"
"Very nice," Jackson said. "Upscale. It's a younger crowd that's moving in down here. They like the industrial style of the buildings."
"You got anything in Beacon Hill?" Chase asked him conspiratorially.
Jackson pointed at him. "I pegged you for a Beacon-Hill type. I have a classic townhouse. All the bells, whistles, and wainscoting you could hope for."
"That's sounds nice," Chase said. He turned to me. "Doesn't that sound nice, babe?"
I had no idea what sort of bells and whistles there would be, but I loved the Beacon Hill neighborhood, and I was somewhat stupidly thrilled that he'd just called me babe. "It does. But we should look at this one, too. I think Eric really wants to see it."
Eric shrugged a little defensively. "I like modern."
"Maybe you can finally buy a place up here so you don't always have to crash with me," Chase said. A few photographers had sidled up near us, and Chase casually threw his arm around me. "This is Jackson Pryce," he called pointing at the broker. "He's with Boston Premiere Realty. Best in the business. Now if you'll excuse us, Avery and I are looking for a new home." He squeezed me close, and we both smiled for the photographers. My worries about Lila lifted; the sun on my face and Chase's arm around me were like a balm.
We entered the lobby of the building. It was beautiful but austere with soaring windows and ultra-modern light fixtures. We went into the industrial-sized elevator, and as soon as the doors were closed, Chase turned to Jackson. "I can already tell this is not a good fit." He looked at Eric. "This is al
l you, buddy. You buy this one. I'll buy the Beacon Hill one."
