Page 95 of The Boyfriend Experience

And three. I look like I just got in a street fight. Because I did. So the two women actually look afraid of me and the two men just angry.

“Uh…” I say, in the ensuing silence. Four unknown well-dressed people stare at me with wide eyes. “Um…” I force a smile. “I’m sorry.” Then look at Oaklee, who is shaking her head at me on the sly. “I didn’t realize you had people up here.”

“Lawton,” Oaklee says. “You’re bleeding! What the hell happened to you?”

I look at her… acquaintances, then back at her and say, “Um… I can come back later.”

“Wait,” a tall man in a very expensive suit says. “You’re Lawton Ayers?”

“Uh…” And for some reason I know the right answer to this question is no.

But Oaklee says, “Yes. This is Lawton. He’s the one you have a meeting with, not me.”

“Meeting?” I say. “No. I have no clue what you all are doing, or talking about, or… anything. So I’m gonna go.” I point at the elevator as I look at Oaklee. “Over to Jordan’s office and have a little conversation with him about the contract we signed. I’ll come back later, see ya.”

But Oaklee runs over to me and grabs my arm, tugging me back into the fray. “Lawton,” she whispers. “These are the Home TV people. They’re here for your meeting. I don’t know how they got my name—did you mention me?—anyway, doesn’t matter. They’re here about the show.”

“We can hear you,” one woman says. “And we’ve already explained. We’re not here for Lawton Ayers. We’re here for you.”

I spin around because I recognize her voice. “Michaela?” I say. “Michaela Cummings?”

She purses her lips and nods. “Yes. I’m sorry for the confusion, Lawton. And I don’t know why you’re here. But this isn’t your meeting. We’re here because Oaklee Ryan contacted us about a show based on her brewery.”

“That’s not true!” Oaklee says, grabbing my arm tighter. “I did not! I don’t know what’s happening but I never called these people! I wouldn’t even know where to start the process of getting a TV show!”

The other woman opens up the cover to her tablet, shaking her head. She stabs the screen a few times with her fingers and then holds it up so we can see. “Oaklee, we have emails from you. An entire pitch for dueling craft breweries in Denver. You even said you knew we’d be in town this week and set up this morning’s appointment.”

“But I didn’t!” Oaklee says, looking up at me. “I swear! That wasn’t me!”

“Then who was it?” the man asks.

“They came from [email protected],” the tablet woman says. “Is that your email?”

I look at Oaklee.

“Lawton—”

“Is that your email?” I ask her.

“Yes, but—”

“Jesus fucking—”

“OK,” the man says. “Ms. Ryan, we’re very interested in hearing more about this show. We’ve been looking for something like this for a while now. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. So are you going to pitch us or not?”

“It’s Lawton’s show!” she says. “It’s not my show. You guys want Lawton.”

“No,” Michaela says. “Look, Lawton.” She turns to me. “We appreciate all the hard work you’ve put into this concept of yours, and to be honest, we’re only taking your meeting tomorrow because we were coming to hear Oaklee’s pitch. We were going to cancel on you. Sorry, but we’re not looking for another million-dollar-home show at the moment.”

“The deal is off?” I ask. Stunned. Unable to believe this whole fucking scene is happening.

“There was no deal, son,” the man says. “OK? It was just a pitch and while it started out interesting, we’re just not moving forward. And to be quite frank, Mr. Ayers, you’re really not the kind of personality we’re looking for.”

I look at Oaklee, that last bit echoing in my mind.

She’s shaking her head. “It wasn’t me,” she says. “This was Hanna, Law. This has Hanna written all over it. She did this! She ruined your—”

“Enough,” I say, stopping Oaklee before she can say anything else. “You know what, Oaklee. I came over here to tell you one thing and that’s all I’m going to say and then I’m going to leave. Game. Over.”