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Al,
I saw you on Entertainment Nightly the other night. You’re going to be Hudson Finch’s babysitter? Does this mean you’ve given up on Frank?
Inquiring minds want to know.
L
Seething with rage, I hit reply.
Nope, not even close. In fact, Frank found an LGM last night so suck it, you rat bastard.
I stare at it for a second, then delete it. No way am I telling him anything about what I’m doing. He’d immediately start looking for pulsars too, and knowing my luck, that’ll be the breakthrough he needs to get his stupid AI working. Oh, and as if it’s not obnoxious enough that he’s also working on an AI system, he named his Drake (also after Frank Drake, you know, because he can’t possibly think of anything on his own, even a name).
What should I write back? I suppose I could not reply at all. That’ll feel good. Sort of. Not as good as gloating and calling him a bastard. But still, good(ish). In the name of professionalism, however, I should probably say something. Also because I want that S.O.B. running scared.
Perhaps you should consider an alternate theory. What if Hudson’s shadowing me because I have loads of free time on my hands at the moment?
Okay, so this sort of makes me a liar, but not really because I’m just posing a question. Besides, lying to a lying, cheating, thieving waste of air doesn’t count. I’ve got my mouse hovered over the send button and am trying to decide whether to hit it or not when I’m startled by the sound of Hudson’s voice.
“Good morning, Allie.”
Dammit. I sent it.
I glance up, only to see him looking ridiculously hot again today. He’s wearing tan chinos and a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms, which are flexed, by the way, because he’s carrying the largest fruit basket I’ve ever seen in my life. “Oh hi, I didn’t think you’d be in this early.”
“I really wanted to talk to you.”
“Right, sorry. I forgot.” I didn’t forget. I’m just not interested in whatever bullshit he’s about to spew about why he lied the other day.
He walks over and places the basket on my desk. “This is for you. As a thank you for tutoring me. Well, once we actually get started.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of fruit.” Like seriously, so much fruit. I won’t need my Activia yogurt for a while. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Also, he didn’t. He probably had that blonde lady do it.
“I wanted to, and unlike the pastries, I actually went to the store myself,” he says, somehow looking concerned and flirty at the same time. How is that even humanly possible? He pulls out his phone and shows me a pic of him next to a man in a green apron. “See? That’s Louis. He threw in the chocolates for free.”
Of course Louis threw in the chocolates for free. This man is a shameless, shameless charmer who just goes around getting whatever he wants from whomever he wants it from. And now, he’s got an innocent grocer involved. Well, not me. I refuse to be tricked into giving him … whatever it is he wants from me. I’m not falling for it. No way. No how.
Although it is sort of nice of him to go pick up a gift for me.
Sitting back in my chair, I narrow my eyes a little, not sure how to respond.
“I lied the other day when I said I’d been to your parents’ bakery. My PR team wanted footage of me giving the pastries to your team so they set the whole thing up,” he tells me, leaning against my desk. Oh wow, there’s that scent again. I’m pretty sure they bottled him to make a new version of Old Spice body wash called Lick Me. “I couldn’t admit it on TV, but I was going to fess up that afternoon, then Chad … stopped by and you pawned me off on him, then on Edward, Virgil, and Gwen, likely because you’d already talked to your parents, who told you I was never there.”
“Yup. Something like that.”
He rubs the back of his neck, which honestly does something to me. “How to make a good first impression, right?”
“It wasn’t the best way,” I answer.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “The thing about life in Hollywood is that it’s all just bullshit, you know? Everything you see. It’s just smoke and mirrors, but if you’re there long enough, you start to believe the lies yourself.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It can be. But it’s got its perks too.” He means shagging supermodels.
For some unknown reason, I stiffen slightly at the thought, then give him a quick nod. “Okay, well, thanks for telling me the truth. I mean, you were basically caught so you knew you had to, but still.”
