AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I file that away—her willingness to learn. It’ll come in useful for me if I’m in her position someday. Though, come to think of it, that’s always a key skill—willingness to learn.
She listens as a few producers make minor suggestions, then when we’re done, she catches up to me as I’m gathering my laptop and purse. Everyone else is gone. “How’s everything going, Jules?”
It’s a generic question, but not really. She means something very specific. “I’m doing well,” I say, then we chat briefly about the show and the business. But once we’re done, I add, “And thank you again for your advice in Paris. I appreciate it. I’m with Finn, but I’m definitely finding my own way.”
“Oh,” she says, a little thrown off, but then she recovers. “Good. That’s what I hoped for.” She holds my gaze for a weighty beat. “Truly it is.”
“I know,” I say, meaning it.
Then I leave, headed to Finn’s home. “How are things with Streamer,boss?” I ask my guy after he gives me a chaste kiss at the door. Finn’s had a busy few days finalizing a couple distribution deals. “Did you use your tycoon attitude?”
He shuts the door, then dips his voice. “I did. Is that something you’d like me to use on you soon?”
I smirk. “That’d be a yes.”
“Good. Now tell me how everything’s going with your projects.”
As we head into the kitchen, I update him on the shows I’m working on, and the script reading I’ll be doing tonight. “Most of all, I’m excited aboutCaptain Dude,” I say, then cross my fingers. “Maybe I can be more hands-on with it.”
“I bet you will be.”
He’s probably right. Because I’m a damn good junior TV producer no matter who I love or how I love. Guess that’s part of finding my way.
A few minutes later, Zach trots downstairs. “Are you ready, Jules?”
In medias res, indeed.
“Ready,” I say, then I dip a hand into my purse and grab some Mentos.
Zach motors to the fridge and snags a bottle of Diet Coke. The three of us head to the backyard and conduct an experiment, making a very messy fountain.
When Zach goes to bed, his father pulls me close in the kitchen, and kisses me desperately. “I want to take you to my home in Miami next month. Just you and me.”
I say yes.
* * *
A few days later, we walk up the steps of the New York Public Library together. I’m not holding Zach’s hand. That’s a little insta-family for me.
But I’m right there with them—this man who adores me, and his son who’s welcomed me into his life like I’m maybe the cool aunt he’s always wanted.
Like this is where my story was always meant to be.
As they go through the doors, I lag behind for a moment. I glance back at the city that’s my home. My friends are scattered around Manhattan, my family over the Brooklyn Bridge.
Later, I’ll look up at the stars and I’ll see my sister. For now, I look down at the two anklets I wear. Mine and hers. Stars and flowers.
When I go inside, I’m so much more than happy enough.
* * *
At the end of the summer on a Saturday night, I adjust Lady Gaga in front of the mirror in my home, making sure the strands look just right. Then, I strike a pose with Harlow, wearing Miley, and Layla, dolled up as Taylor.
“Got my sparkle bodysuit, my wig, and now I’m good to go,” Layla says, blowing a lipstick kiss at our reflection.
Harlow juts out a hip, showing off her strappy little black dress, looking like the honey-voiced singer in her wig. “We’ll duet, baby.”
“Hello! We’ll be a band,” Layla adds, then squeezes my shoulder. “We have Lady Gaga here at the helm.”
