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The sound guy walks over and starts taking Hudson’s mic off. He’s got his hands right on Hudson’s collar. Lucky bastard. No, I mean, eww. Poor guy.
“I am telling the truth. I’m looking forward to this. Besides, I really appreciate Allie here taking me under her wing. I’m sure she’s got a lot better things to do than help a total newbie learn about her job.”
Huh, that was sort of sweet. Oh wait, he’s just acting. Dammit. It is going to be so hard for me to remember that.
Josie glances around, wrinkles up her nose at my poster of Einstein sticking his tongue out, then shrugs. “Whatever. Do you want to go grab some lunch?”
“Thank you for the offer, but I really should get started here. If I’m going to become Dr. David Peck Todd, I need to get on it.”
“Another time then?” she says, running a finger along his forearm. “When you get back to L.A.?”
“Absolutely.”
Oh my God, she’s not going to fall for that, is she? Does she not know about the woman with the straight blonde hair who buys his pastries for him?
That smile says that even if she did know, she wouldn’t care. Pathetic. “Okay, but I’m going to hold you to it.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” he says, standing. “Here, why don’t I walk you guys out?”
They all finally exit my office, then Hudson pokes his head back in. “Allie, which way is it to the lobby?”
I point to my left.
“Thanks.”
As they start down the hall, I hear him ask the cameraman how his family’s doing. Good lord, does he not have an off-switch for that charm?
7
Time to Turn Up the Charm
Hudson
If there’s one thing I can easily read, it’s people. And Dr. Allie Cammareri does not like me. Not one little bit. I could tell by the way she was scowling as soon as the interview ended. If I had to guess, I’d say she already found out I was never at her parents’ bakery. Or maybe she’s just one of those smart people who looks down her nose at regular guys like me. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m going to fix it. It’s either that, or this is going to be the most awkward experience of my life.
I’ve offloaded the Entertainment Nightly crew and am now attempting to find ‘my’ office, without much luck. I’ve been wandering the halls for a good five minutes now and I honestly have no idea where I am. Poking my head into the lunchroom, I hope I’ll find someone in there so I can ask for directions, but the room is empty.
The box of pastries is open on the middle of one of the tables, so I decide to bring a plate back to Allie as a peace offering. Although, since they’re from her parents’ bakery, she might be sick of them. Also, I’m not really sure why I need to make a peace offering at all and part of me feels annoyed to be doing this. But most of me knows that I’m going to need to really turn up the charm or this is going to go south fast.
I grab a plate from the cupboard labeled ‘Plates, bowls, and mugs,’ which is conveniently located next to the one marked ‘NASA freeze-dried foods.’ Oh, I hope they have freeze-dried ice cream. I used to love that as a kid.
Okay, doofus, forget the ice cream. You’ve got a job to do.
Walking over to the table, I see there’s only half a cannoli left. Half. Who does that? And also, how the hell is this all that’s left when I’ve only been here for an hour? That box was heavy with pastries.
I pick up the measly treat and place it, along with the gold lacy paper it was sitting on, onto the plate. Blerg, that looks totally lame there by itself. I hurry over to the fridge and find some strawberries in a plastic dish and set three next to the pastry. “There. Much better,” I mutter.
A couple of minutes later, I manage to find the office. I put on my best smile and walk in, only to discover Allie’s too engrossed in whatever she’s doing on her computer to notice me. I set the snack down on her desk and using my pillow-talk voice, I say, “I thought you might be hungry for a little snack.”
She glances down at the plate, and says, “Oh, thanks. That’s really thoughtful of you.”
This was a terrible idea. Just terrible. “I didn’t eat the other half or anything. This was all that was left when I got into the lunchroom.”
“Yeah, sweets move fast around here,” she says, tapping at her keyboard. “Except the freeze-dried ice cream. That’s been there for years.”
“Oh, good to know,” I tell her, glancing at the plate again. “I found the strawberries in the fridge, but now I’m wondering if I may have just stolen someone’s lunch.”
She nods. “You did. Those are Keenan’s.”
