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Nia: Stop cleaning.
Daphne: I’m just tidying up.
Nia: I’ve seen your house. It’s freakishly clean. Always.
Nia: Some people stress-eat. You stress-clean.
Nia: It’s just Chris.
Daphne: It’s not ‘just Chris.’ It’s a New Gotham film crew. A FILM CREW. Coming to my house.
Nia: You mean a photographer. They’re a magazine, Daphne.
Daphne: They have a new TV show, and they’re filming a segment on Zane.
Nia: !!!!!
Daphne: They told us YESTERDAY. They’ll be here for two days. TWO DAYS.
Nia: That is amazing promo!!!
Daphne couldn’t argue with that. She could, however, totally freak out over it.
Her phone rang. It was Nia.
“Yes?” Daphne said as she answered.
“Put me on speaker. That way I won’t interrupt your crazy-ass cleaning.”
“You are now on speaker.”
A long pause.
“Nia?”
“Are you okay, Daf? I mean, besides the current freaking out. Are you okay with all this?”
“With the book doing so well? I’m torn between being thrilled and full-on hyperventilating panic, but we’ve discussed this, and I’m not currently in need of soothing. Check back tomorrow.”
“I mean the Zane stuff. Chris is great. He really is, and I’m thrilled you two are getting along so well.”
Daphne’s stomach clenched at that. This was the problem with Nia knowing Chris and being the one who set them up. She wasn’t comfortable telling her friend when Chris did something like agree to an interview without consulting her. As far as Nia knew, Daphne was delighted with Chris. Not entirely untrue, but it still pricked her conscience when Nia gushed over how well they were getting on.
Daphne said nothing as she inspected the sofa for dog hair.
Nia continued, “This is different, though. It’s one thing to have his photo on your book or have him giving interviews. You never cared about those things. But him going on tour instead of you? Being interviewed in your house?”
Oh yes. That was very different, and Daphne was struggling not to feel something dangerously close to resentment. Admitting that, though, would be admitting that there were flaws with the plan she and Nia had brainstormed together.
“I’m fine with it,” Daphne said.
“He’s going to be in your house, pretending he wrote your book and—”
The beep of an incoming call cut Nia short.
“It’s Chris,” Daphne said. “I need to take this. Call you back?”
Nia said sure, and Daphne took a moment to switch calls. Why would Chris be phoning two hours before his flight departed? To cancel. That seemed the only explanation. He’d cancel, and a film crew would show up tomorrow afternoon to find the house occupied by a woman who was definitely not Zane Remington.
