Eric and Allie got caught in the wake of the photographers, when one of them recognized Eric. He and Allie smiled and waved as they got into a cab quickly, but there had been just a moment where they were fully exposed to the paparazzi and made the best of it.
“You’d better get used to that,” she said and smiled at him. “They’re going to be chasing you around like crazy once the series is on the air.”
“I don’t like it when they infringe on my private life,” he said. “Were you okay with that?” he asked her, always concerned for her, and protective.
“Sure, I’m not hiding a husband and ten kids.” She laughed.
“They won’t give you shit at the agency for dating a client?” he asked, and she shrugged.
“Fuck ’em, it’s none of their business. I’m free, single, and over twenty-one,” quite a lot over twenty-one, she thought, and laughed.
They went home after that, made love in every possible location and position, and eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms on her bed.
They had a busy, fun weekend, as they always did, and on Sunday when they went to buy groceries, Eric spotted one of the tabloids at the checkout counter, with the photograph of them leaving the restaurant on Friday night. It was actually a good picture of them and they looked cute, smiling. Both of them were waving as they ducked into a cab. Allie always told her clients that if they got caught by the paparazzi, at least make it look good and smile. They had. The caption under the photograph was fairly banal, given that it was a tabloid and they loved to make up dirt about celebrities. All it said was “Agent Alabama Moore and hot hunk Eric Clay, soon to be the star of a new series, out for Friday night dinner. A date or dinner with a client?”
“No big deal,” she said blithely as she read it over his shoulder. The caption under the famous couple’s photo was dicier. They had put a banner across the woman’s chest that read “Heartbreaker or home-wrecker?” referring to the man’s divorce.
“Christ, their stuff is low,” Eric said. They didn’t buy the paper and cooked dinner together that night. He was staying at her apartment all the time now, and thinking of giving up his own. They were happy, and Allie was loving being a couple, and proud to be with him. She had never felt this way before.
Chapter 8
On Sunday afternoon, true to his word, Phillip went to the park with Hailey and her children, and threw a ball around with Bentley and Will, while Hailey and Arianna watched. Then they all played tag, and Bentley won. They bought ice cream from a vendor in the park, and Will had cotton candy too. They were all appropriately dirty, covered in grass stains and ice cream, and Will had cotton candy all over his face when they left.
“I’m out of shape,” Phillip said, comfortably tired as he smiled at her. “I had fun.”
“So did they.” Hailey looked happy too. He was a good sport with the children’s antics. Will tripped him while trying to get the ball, and Phillip fell but didn’t get hurt. Hailey was surprised by how patient he was with them, for someone who didn’t have children, and that he seemed to genuinely enjoy them. “I’m going to have fun tonight, with your book,” she said. He had dropped it off at the apartment before they went to the park.
“I don’t think I could stay awake to read it,” he said, as they walked back to her apartment at the end of the day. “They have a lot more energy than I do, and so do you. I don’t know how you manage both sides of your life.”
“Sometimes neither do I,” she said, and laughed. “I have no choice. If I don’t do it, there would be no one to help with homework and it wouldn’t get done. No one to organize all their after-school activities or sitters to be with them till I get home and can take over.”
“It’s a full-time job,” he commented with admiration.
“It used to be,” she said matter-of-factly. “Now it’s only half of what I do.”
“And I’m the other half, or part of it,” he said, looking guilty. “Thank you for reading the book,” he said gratefully. It touched him that she was willing to spend time on it and make thoughtful comments to improve the book.
“Reading your books isn’t work. I love doing it.”
“That’s lucky for me. If it weren’t for you and my editor, there wouldn’t be a book.”
“That’s not true. You’re the talent, we just help you polish it, like the cleaning crew in a garden. We get rid of a few dead branches and fallen leaves, and then you’re all set.”
“I’ve had the same editor for twenty-six years, since I wrote my first book when I was twenty-two. Hannah’s gotten older, but she’s still working, and she’s damn good. She’s eighty-six years old. She retired twenty years ago, and now they let me have her edit my books independently. I’d be lost without her. I kick the ideas around with her before I start, although I do that with you too. She always gets me headed in the right direction. I couldn’t do it without her.” Hailey knew how much the woman meant to him. She was a famous editor in the publishing world, and she had edited some very important books and authors. She only worked with Phillip now.
“Yes, you could do it without her,” Hailey said firmly, thinking of the future. The woman wasn’t young, and one day he would have to. She didn’t want him to convince himself he couldn’t write without her. Most writers felt that way about editors they trusted and were attached to. It was an important relationship, Hailey knew, but he had the talent and she knew he could write a fabulous book sitting alone on a desert island if he had to. As his agent, she didn’t want him to forget that. His editor’s name was Hannah Frye, and Hailey had never met her. She rarely left her house, according to Phillip, and he kept her busy. He always said she was like a mother to him, or a terrific aunt.
The weekend with Phillip and her children was the perfect antidote to the drama in the office on Friday, with Dan’s arrest. She and Phillip had talked about it on Friday night, and again on Sunday. It was a shocking revelation, and once Dan was formally charged, it was going to be even more dramatic for the agency. She knew how upset Bob was about it, both personally and professionally. While they were playing in the park, she knew that Dan was in jail for the weekend. The arraignment was set for Monday, when the judge would decide whether to set bail and set him free, pending trial, or keep him incarcerated.
“What do you think they’ll do?” Phillip asked her.
“I have no idea. I know Bob got him a lawyer, but I don’t know how they decide whether to let someone out on bail.” Phillip knew some of that from his books but had never known anyone personally who went to jail, or was accused of the kind of crimes that Dan had committed. They both knew that twenty years ago, he might not even have been arrested. Now it was a very different story. Women’s rights to be treated respectfully, and not be sexually harassed or molested, were being heavily defended, and their abusers punished severely for their transgressions, both by the law and in their professional lives.
Phillip only stayed for a short time after they got back from the park. He said he had some work to do, and she wanted to get the kids cleaned up, give them an early dinner, do some homework with Arianna that they hadn’t finished, and put them all to bed. Then she was going to curl up on the couch and read his manuscript. He could hardly wait to hear her reaction to it. He had discussed it with her, but she hadn’t read any of it yet. She would be the first to do so. He hadn’t even dropped off a copy to Hannah, his editor, yet.