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“Only on alternate Tuesdays. By the way, you’re doing a fantastic job fixing your image, Mason.” I lean in, talking in a low, angry voice. “Seriously. When Mr. Talman reads about this in the tabloids tomorrow, he’s going to hit the freaking roof.”
He shoots me a look of annoyance. “He’s not going to read anything. Brandi agreed that she’s going to be very discreet. Didn’t you, Brandi?”
“My name is Bambi.” she pouts.
Shelby looks at me. “Because of course it is.”
“Bambi was actually a boy’s name in the book,” I tell Shelby.
“What book?” Bambi looks at us in confusion.
“Let’s go.” Mason scowls at me, grabs Bambi’s arm, and tries to lead her towards the bar.
“Mason,” I cry out. I move to stand next to him. “You can’t drink.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he scowls at me. “I’m going to have a seltzer water and hang out for a little while and unwind. Does that meet with your approval, Mommie Dearest?”
“I don’t want to hang out,” his date whines. “I just want to go back to your place. I already told my crew you and me were going to hit it. Oh, and I’m going to need pictures. And maybe a pair of your underwear? The kind in the Joxx ad?”
“Discretion.” I nod at Mason. “Nice.” Then I mutter under my breath, “See you soon, clown.”
“What did you say?” He shoots me a puzzled look.
“Nothing. Please, Mason, don’t just think about yourself. Think about the entire team that you will be letting down if the press gets ahold of this.”
“Good night, Rowan.”
“Let’s go,” Shelby says to me. “He’s a big boy; he can make his own mistakes.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I murmur, but I let her lead me away.
“Taxi,” Mason shouts.
As Shelby and I walk away, we hear angry yelling. “Are you kidding me?” she shrieks.
We glance back to see Mason bundling her into a cab and then walking off down the sidewalk.
Well, thank heaven for small favors, I think sourly, as Shelby and I search for a cab of our own.
As we climb into the cab, an image of my mother flashes through my mind again. We visited New York together a few times when I was younger, and she loved taking cabs. Something about it just felt so Manhattan to her. She’d always have the cab drive by the New York Post building and stare at it longingly as we glided past.
Don’t give up on your dreams, she told me when she got sick.
Well, here I am ... this close to achieving my dream. The only thing standing in my way is a big, arrogant jock-for-brains who’s going to do everything possible to tank it.
4
ROWAN
I winceat the smell of lemony disinfectant as the secretary leads me down the hallway of the Manhattan Children’s Hospital. The scent summons a rush of memories, none of them pleasant.
“And here we go,” the secretary says, gesturing at the door of the conference room. I’ve arranged to meet Mason here half an hour before he was due on the ward, so we can go over the plan. It’s been two weeks since our meeting and he’s taken no initiative to make this experience count. He hasn’t even asked for a briefing on how today will go, so this will be the first time he hears about the plans, which makes it much more fun.
I’m lugging a black suitcase on wheels. She glances at it curiously. I smile at the thought of what’s in there.
As I walk in, the secretary stands there in the hallway.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask her, puzzled.
