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“Me too,” I say.
Then she says hi to Nate. “Can I steal Hunter from you?”
“Go right ahead,” he says.
This is such a new feeling for me. To belong. I give Nate a quick smile and he mouths, Go get ’em.
For the next hour, there’s champagne and hors d’oeuvres. There’s music and laughter. There are intros, and hellos, and you must meet this persons.
I barely see Nate.
Ilene has taken me under her wing, showing me around the reception, introducing me to Webflix producers and executives.
“This is Robert Walsh. He’s the genius who acquired TJ Hardman’s Top-Notch Boyfriend,” she says.
“Ah, the movie was fantastic. Jude Fox and Christian Laird were brilliant, but so was the script,” I say.
“That one was a doozy to make, but when it finally came together it was magic,” Robert says, then gives a chef’s kiss. “Are you interested in scripted shows?”
Ilene wags a finger at him. “Now, now. Don’t try to steal my talent. Hunter belongs to sports, documentaries, adventure shows, and me.”
I can’t do a thing but grin and go along with the pink-haired woman.
We even say hi to Bernard as he munches on a cracker in the corner. He gestures from Ilene to me. “Ah, I’m so glad you two are working together. I don’t think I can handle another second of working on American sports,” he says.
“Oh, Bernie. We’ll save you from the horror of touchdowns and field goals,” Ilene says, patting his shoulder.
“You’re an angel,” he says.
Then she scurries me away to the bartender. “By the way, in case it wasn’t obvious, you’ll report to me now.”
Like I wanted to when I first graduated. “That’s great,” I say. “I’ve been admiring your career since before I started at Webflix.”
“Back when you worked on Sweet Nothings,” she says breezily.
“Exactly.” But I don’t want to talk about where I’ve come from. “Tell me more about the coverage you’re expanding here in Europe.”
As we wait in line for a drink, Ilene rattles on about adventure sports, cycling, European football, and women’s sports. It all sounds grand and I’m feeling good about life, especially when I spot Nate on the other side of the room. He winks at me as he chats with Yasmin.
Ilene and I inch forward in the line, and I steal one more glance at Nate.
Yasmin has moved to another group and someone else has joined Nate. I flinch as I realize that’s my father shaking hands with my husband.
35
SWEET NOTHINGS
Hunter
I haven’t seen Ian Granger much since I left his show. His parting words when I quit were You’re a fool to give up a gig on the most successful primetime soap in decades.
The show loosely inspired by all his affairs. All his little sweet nothings. The ones he conducted when Harlow and I were growing up, asking us to cover up for him.
Just a few months ago my gutsy sister told him she wanted him to go to rehab for his sex addiction. He didn’t go.
Why the hell is my father here?
“Does that sound good?”
Oh, shit. Ilene is asking me something. But my head is swimming, and I don’t know what she said. I can’t think straight so I say, “Yeah, it does. Really appreciate that.”
“Oh good.” She pats my shoulder. “I need to chat with Robby again. But this was terrific.”
“It was,” I say, meaning it, but already feeling like I’m on the other side of the room, demanding, What are you doing here? from my father.
I cut through the crowd, headed for the two men. My palms are sweaty, but my skin feels cold. Emotions whip through me—anger, frustration, and curiosity.
“Hi, handsome,” I tell Nate when I reach him. I’ve never called him that in public but an affectionate name feels right.
“Hey,” he says, sounding wary.
I turn to the man who looks far too much like me. Coldly, I say, “Hello, Ian. How are you?”
He laughs, that winning laugh that’s charmed millions of fans. “How about a hug for your dad?”
“No thanks,” I say, but he takes it anyway, clapping me on the back. He’s wearing a new cologne. He always switches scents when he meets a new woman. I wonder where his wife is and whether he’s started lying to her yet.
“What are you doing here?” I’m not in the mood for niceties.
“I flew back home for some work on the show. A new deal with one of my longtime partners. So good to be in London. And I met your husband,” he says. “I hear he’s a fan.”
Nate coughs, then says, “I was just making conversation.”
And the thing is—I know Nate. If he’s said he’s a fan, it’s not because he’s a fanboy. It’s because he was trying to cover up the awkwardness of meeting this man.
My dad beams at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anyway, you look sharp, Hunter. Good to see you here. I presume you landed an invitation as a plus one?”
