Borderline (The Arcadia Project, #1)(45)

There was a short silence on the end of the line. “Millie,” he said quietly, “I don’t think you ought to be working for the Arcadia Project.”

I blinked in the darkness. “Why not?”

“Because you ought to be working for me.”





21


My face flamed so hot I was afraid I would fry the circuits of my phone. It was a joke, right? I bit my tongue.

“You want to direct, right?” he said.

“What makes you think that?”

“Millie. I’m a UCLA alum, and I’m on the selection committee for the Seattle festival. When these words pop up in the news, I look at the pictures.”

“That was more than a year ago.”

“I’m good with faces, and yours rang a bell, so I did a little research.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You are an idiot. You’ve got more rage than brains, and it showed in The Stone Guest.”

Was there anyone alive who hadn’t seen my stupid film?

“If you ever learn to leash that, you could be good. Maybe great if you track down your Echo, and I know somebody who could help with that.”

I dug my thumbnail into the edge of Teo’s desk. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say you haven’t given up. If you can make sure nothing bad happens to my Johnny, I will owe you one. A really big one.”

I wanted to be more exhilarated. But all I could hear was the condition he’d placed on the offer and recognize it for what it was. Payment for a favor, not a validation of my talent.

Then again, this was Hollywood. When a door opens, you don’t make a fuss over who’s holding it and why. On the other hand, after everything that had happened, wouldn’t I be better off keeping a low profile?

“Thank you, Mr. Berenbaum,” I said. “You have no idea what this means to me.” How could he? I wasn’t sure myself.

? ? ?

Teo pounded on my door at eight a.m., sounding like he’d already had nine cups of coffee. “It’s omelet day!” he yelled through the door. “What do you want on yours?”

“Um.”

“Make up your mind and get your ass downstairs! No one sleeps in on Saturdays!” And then he was gone.

He wasn’t kidding. When I finally pulled on my BK, some shorts, and a tank top and carefully made my way downstairs on crutches, I saw that the dining room and kitchen were alive with cheerful chaos. Everyone else was already there, half-dressed, drinking juice and coffee and mingling like actors at a producers’ party.

I managed to awkwardly hobble my way between Tjuan and the doorway into the kitchen, where a bewildering array of possible omelet ingredients were on display on the kitchen island. Teo was already hard at work at the stove; the bearded man whose name I always forgot hovered just behind him like a nervous father waiting to cut the cord. I smiled a little as I watched Teo intent on his work.

“So,” Gloria’s voice rose above the din, “Tjuan opens up Lilydrop’s jacket, and I give you my word, no less than a dozen oranges come falling out onto the floor. We had to give her a three-year ban; I feel so bad for poor Jenny. I told her this might be a good time to get pregnant.” Amid the scattered laughter that followed, Gloria noticed me and gave me a cheery wave. “Have y’all met Minnie yet? This is the new gal, everyone.”

I didn’t bother correcting her about my name; I hadn’t given up hope that I could get on her good side. My housemates greeted me with varying degrees of enthusiasm, except for Teo and a petite greasy-haired brunette I didn’t know. Teo was occupied with his latest creation, and the young woman seemed wrapped up in her own little world.

“Have you met everyone?” Gloria asked me.

“Not officially,” I said. “It’s okay, though, if—”

“I know you’ve met my partner, Tjuan; and my boyfriend, Phil; and Song, who’s out in the dining room with Miss Caryl.”

“Caryl is here? I didn’t—”

“Song keeps things running like clockwork, and her baby boy is something special. Over there, that’s Phil’s partner, Stevie—don’t be rude now, Stevie!—and you know Teo, of course.”

“Thanks. It’s nice meeting everyone. Would you excuse me a second?” I tried to do a one-eighty in the crowded kitchen, and ended up planting one of my crutches on Tjuan’s foot. The look he gave me was frosty.

In the dining room, I didn’t spot Caryl right away. It must have been a subtler version of her car-hiding magic, because when I specifically focused on finding her, there she was next to Song, working her way through a plain omelet that had been cut into dozens of tiny pieces. Her gloves were lying next to her on the table. Curiously, I looked at her hands but didn’t spot anything odd. I’d been half hoping for acid scars or something.

“Hey, Caryl,” I said, working my way over to her side of the table. “Where’ve you been?”

“Arcadia,” she said, without lifting her eyes from her omelet.

“What for?”

“Replenishing my magic.”

I wished I hadn’t left my fey glasses in my room; I couldn’t gauge her mood without seeing Elliott. Song looked between the two of us and immediately took her plate to the kitchen, baby snoozing on her back in a sling.