He rolled his eyes. “What happened?”
“Fucking Gabriella showed up at the shoot.”
“Ah…she called me and asked if you were back. She seemed worried.”
“Why didn’t she just call me herself then?” I grumbled, sliding behind my desk and turning on my computer.
“Because she’s got more pride than you and I combined. You calling Mandy?”
“Yes. You can leave now.”
He wasn’t offended. It was just how we were. We’d been with each other too long to actually give a crap about niceties.
Manning up, I pulled out my phone.
“Hi! This is Mandy Arthur.”
The woman was just so damn bubbly, and it wasn’t even six in the morning over there.
“Hi, Mandy. It’s Ollie.”
“Ollie! You absolute jerk! How could you do that to us? To Elaine—Xanthe?”
Guilt pooled in my gut. “I…” I had nothing of substance to offer.
“You’re nothing but a meanie. A complete butthole! You left us to deal with hundreds of heartbroken Donovanites! I thought Xanthe was going to die from embarrassment.”
My heart ceased to beat. “Oh God. Mandy—”
“What were you thinking?” she shouted. “You big, arrogant, stupid piece of poop! You’re in such deep trouble—”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. This woman was just too funny.
Where the hell does Xanthe find these people?
If they weren’t cursing every other word, they refused to curse at all.
“What the fudge is so darn funny?” Mandy fumed.
I lost it. My brain was fried. Jet lag, missing the woman I’d just learned I lived and breathed for, dealing with Gabriella, and the like…I couldn’t contain it. My entire life had flipped the fuck upside down, and now, I was losing my damn mind.
“Woman, it’s hard to take you seriously when you can’t even bring yourself to properly curse at me.”
“Fudge you,” she hissed.
I guffawed. My belly hurt. I was laughing that hard.
Trey popped his head around the door to my office, probably making sure he wouldn’t have to call the loony bin. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I could only nod. He ducked back out.
“Are you done?” Mandy asked snippily.
I snorted and wiped my eyes. “I think I can hold it in for now.”
“Good. I’ve sent you a package of those swag posters and a roster of all the people who wanted to meet you in Boston. You have to sign them and send them all out. Renee said, if you do this, you’ll be forgiven. When you signed that contract, you agreed to do whatever it takes to make Paranormal Hunters a success. You violated that on the second signing! I know…I know what happened, okay? Xanthe and I have been friends for years. She told me what went on between you two.”
“I’ve messed up hugely. I realized it the moment it became impossible for me to come back. And I…are you in touch with her at all? I’m desperate to speak with her.”
“I talk to her almost every day.”
“She’s blocked my number—”
“And deleted it, too. She didn’t want to be tempted to call you either. I guess she figured a clean break was for the best.”
“Well, it’s not,” I grumbled.
“She’s really mad at you for what you did, Ollie. If I were you, I’d give her some time to cool off. I think she could’ve forgiven you for hurting her but not for disappointing her readers.”
I exhaled loudly.
“First things first, send out the darn swag. Then, maybe she’ll think of forgiving you,” Mandy suggested.
“Consider it done.”
“Good. We’ll be in touch, all right? And if Xanthe…well, I’ll be in touch.”
“Is she doing all right? Can you at least tell me that?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think she is, Ollie. I really think you broke her heart.”
“I understand. I broke mine, too.”
“Well, I think that’s only fair, don’t you?”
I did. “Yes.”
From Helmersen’s, I made my way to Flight of Fancy with two espressos and a couple of joints I rolled in my pocket for when I got home later. Peering over the window display inside the bookstore to make sure there was no one in there who would be after my man parts, I saw Ellen stacking some shelves. I pulled the door open and greeted her with a smile.
“Is it safe?” I asked as she glanced toward the door.
Her face broke out into a huge smile, making her eyes crinkle. “You’re safe.”
“Espresso?” I held out the cup.
She walked up to me, and then she sniffed. Taking a step closer, she inhaled deeply, and a flush crept into my cheeks. Before I knew it, she’d shoved her nose onto the pocket of my jean jacket with the joints.
“Lock the door,” she commanded as she turned around.
My jaw dropped, but I did as she’d told me. She headed toward the back, and I just stood there by the door, not knowing what I should be doing.
“You coming?” she called out.
I hurried down the corridor. She was halfway up a flight of steps.
Ellen led me into a wonderful flat that had me instantly at ease with its warm colors, oversized brown sofas, an armchair that had seen better days, and a low coffee table made of wood. I was surprised to see framed posters of Frank Zappa and Jefferson Airplane on the walls along with all sorts of interesting-looking stuff. On one of the windowsills sat a fat orange cat. He was gorgeous, and he looked as though he wanted to cut me.
“You live up here?” I asked.
“It’s been my home since 1972.”
“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing to the cat.
“That’s Beefcake. He likes to stay with me when Xanthe is away.”
“Ah…my competition.”
Ellen laughed as she opened up a chest drawer and pulled out an ashtray. “Have a seat,” she said.
I decided to sit on the far end of the couch that didn’t have such a deep rump imprint. Obviously, Ellen had her favorite seat.
Sitting down, she dropped the ashtray on the table and snapped her fingers at me. I placed the espressos down and produced a joint. Appraising my handiwork, Ellen found it satisfactory and whipped out a lighter to spark it.
“Oh, that’s lovely.” She sighed. “Nice blend you have.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “Does Xanthe leave town often?”
“No. A couple of times a year to England. Do you?”
“Yes, but not for long periods. I’m a photographer. I go for a day or two, here and there—Paris, Berlin…”
She nodded, taking a champion hit off the joint before passing it to me. “I know.”
“You and Xanthe are very close, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
The hit I took penetrated the blood-brain barrier, and I eased into the squishy couch. Beefcake came up, gave me the evil eye, and jumped into Ellen’s lap.
“Who’s a special little man?” Ellen crooned.
Shit, I was even falling for Xanthe’s damn cat. The sentiment wasn’t returned. Beefcake glared at me, watching me with squinty yellow eyes. I passed back the joint and reached for my coffee.