Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I deal the next hand and go on to lose the game. I try not to view it as a metaphor.
Two days later, I meet with Mia and Storm at a pool hall. The fashionista loves to play, and she’s been teaching Storm, she tells me.
Storm taps her shoulder with the pool cue. “She’s the pool mentor I never knew I needed. Do you know how hot guys think it is when you can play pool?” He brandishes the stick with a wicked smile.
“Gee, I wonder why,” Mia deadpans, staring pointedly at the stick.
“You said it, hun,” he says in playful accusation. He has pet names for everyone. It’s delightful.
“Hmm. What about pool hall makeup,” she muses, changing topics on a dime. She looks to me, her gray eyes twinkling.
“We need a how-to on that,” we say in unison.
“Yes! And we need events, and sessions, and so many things,” she declares.
As the three of us play, we brainstorm our next collaborations. At the end of the game, Mia sets her palms on the edge of the table, her loose curls flowing around her like she’s an ethereal dark angel. “I want to integrate your app into my brand, Lola,” she says, going starkly serious again. “With you running it still. With your vids. I think it could take us both to new levels.”
I’m a little giddy with hope. Especially since it sounds too good to be true. Still, when we leave, I say, “By the way, my real name is Layla, as you may know. You can call me Layla if you want.”
“What would you like me to call you?” she asks.
“I’m good with both,” I say.
“Then Lola works for me.”
“You’re my Lola girl,” Storm chimes in.
I smile, then I take a mental picture of the three of us. I imagine we look as hopeful as I feel.
Then, Mia’s phone trills. She emits a squeak when she sees who’s calling. “Oh! That’s my honey in California. Ciao!”
In a heartbeat, she’s off, turning the other way, tra-la-la-ing down the block like the fashionista the media has made her out to be. Flighty and whimsical.
I like her. A lot. I want to believe she’s not simply Mia Jane, that she’s also the Mia I’ve come to know in these brief interactions—a smart businesswoman. Someone who makes things happen, opening up flagship stores in a heartbeat. Someone trustworthy. But what if she’s not?
After all, hopes can be dashed in the blink of an eye, so I try to temper mine.
When I leave, I meet David at a coffee shop in Chelsea, and I feel like a liar once again just by breathing.
He wraps his arms around me in a hug. “Dude, I have good news!”
“Tell me,” I say, eager to keep the spotlight on him.
“Cynthia is going to come with me to the auction. She wants to help out backstage.”
I squeeze him harder, sharing his excitement. “I guess things with her are definitely going well then?” I ask when I let go.
“They are. But you’ll forgive me for cheating on you, right?”
I laugh to cover up my feelings. “Of course. But she better not emcee it with you,” I say, wagging a finger, keeping the mood playful.
“You’re my auction emcee. She’s my date,” he says, sounding proud.
“You’re not going to propose again at the auction, are you?”
He laughs. “Probably not. But I do think the whole slower-speed approach worked. Work has been tough for her since her boss at the bowling alley is a hard-ass. Plus, she’s saving to go back to college. She’s balancing a lot. She admitted that’s what freaked her out when I proposed.”
“I’m glad she told you that.”
“Me too. It helped,” he says, and then his smile brightens more, so it’s nearly contagious. “Oh, and my dad’s going to meet her tomorrow night.”
That’s…wow. I should say a simple that’s terrific. But I’m feeling too many things at once—surprise at this news, a little disappointment that Nick didn’t tell me, then foolishness for thinking he would. We’re not having that kind of relationship. We’re not having any kind of relationship.
His relationship is rightfully with his son. “That’s great,” I say, meaning it. These two men care so deeply for each other. I should not get in the way.
David beams, nodding a few times. His enthusiasm makes him look even younger than his twenty-one years. “Yeah, I’m stoked. Especially since my mom has no interest in meeting her. But no surprise.” He’s trying to sound blasé, but I’m not buying it.
“She’ll come around,” I reassure him, even though I truly have no idea. With Rose, it seems like, well, like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
David shrugs lightly, as if he’s taking it all in stride. “It is what it is. Even though she’s a bartender, she’s kind of shy when she’s out of her element. And my mom is a little, how shall we say, intense. My dad’s good with people though. But you know that already,” he says, and wham.