Confessions of a Bad Boy(16)

He nods, pleased. “You know, Nate talks a lot about you, too. I feel like we’ve already met.”

“Really? He talks about me?”

“All the time! But I must say, he still didn’t do you justice. You’re really very beautiful, I can see why he’s so enamored with you.”

If anyone else complimented me that directly, I’d probably cringe, but coming from a guy like this, with his gentleman-of-Old-Hollywood style and old-west sincerity, it works.

“Thanks?”

“Hey!” Nate calls from the entrance, coming towards us. “Hello, Mr. Robinson.”

“Hello, Nate. Working off the clock? Thought you took a personal day.”

“You know me,” Nate says, putting his hands gently on my shoulders and guiding me to the passenger side of the car, “I can’t quit until the job’s done.”

Mr. Robinson laughs. “Good, good. Well get on back home, then. Great to finally meet the little lady.”

“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Nate quickly jumps into the driver’s seat, flashes one more innocent smile at his boss, then revs the car away like a starting gun just went off.

“Sorry about that. My boss always turns up when you least expect him.”

“He seems nice.” I’m still a little baffled by the weird exchange.

“He is. But give him a chance to start talking and you can forget about the rest of your day.”

I settle back in the car seat and we drive in silence for a little while.

“Your boss,” I say, after a little while, “said that you talk about me a lot at work.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. He said you mentioned me a lot to him.”

Nate’s face screws itself up with deep confusion.

“No offense, Jessie, but why would I talk to my boss about—” He stops himself mid-sentence to smack a palm against his face. “Oh, f*ck.”

“What?”

“What did he say to you exactly?”

I shrug. “Nothing much. Just that you talked about me a lot. And that I was more beautiful than you’d told him.”

“Fuck!” Nate slams his hands against the wheel, and I’m glad for the stop sign that causes him to slow down.

“What’s going on?”

“He thinks you’re Tessa!”

“Who’s Tessa?”

He sighs and shakes his head as he eases the car up to the curb outside my building.

“My boss is old-fashioned.”

“He looks it. And?”

“And to him, a guy who isn’t married by twenty-five and a father by thirty has to be either a sexual deviant or a criminal.”

“So of course he owns a talent agency in Hollywood,” I say, incredulously.

Nate shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. He really loves this business, though.”

“Wait a minute,” I say, laughing now that I realize what Nate’s saying. “I think I understand. So being the opportunistic bullshit-artist that you are, you figured you’d make yourself look good by telling him you have a loving wife at home named Tessa.”

“Something like that. We’re not married. I haven’t proposed yet. She still has her own place.”

I laugh so hard I nearly smack my head on the dash from doubling over.

“Really, Nate? How long are you planning to keep that lie up?”

Nate looks out of the windshield.

“Well, me and Tessa have been a happy couple for a few years now. No reason why it can’t go on for many more.” He looks at me and chuckles. “Tessa’s a good woman. She’s stuck by me through all the late nights and hard times.”

“Of course,” I smile. “Does she wear little plaid dresses and bake you apple pies too, this sexist archetype of yours?”

“It’s not an archetype. She’s just…old fashioned. But she also likes her independence.”

We both laugh a little more, until the good mood drains out of us and is replaced by the quiet emptiness of the end of this little adventure.

“Anyway, I should get going.” I hoist my purse onto my shoulder and reach for the door handle. “Thanks for the shake. And everything else.”

Nate nods. “Give me a call. I always miss hanging out with you when we finally do.”

“Yeah,” I smile. “Me too. Listen, don’t tell Kyle about…what happened. Please?”

“You know I won’t.”

“You’re the best. I really appreciate it, Nate.”

“It’s nothing. Just…try not to drive yourself into the dust. Your brother’s at least right about that.”

“Yeah. I know. As soon as I have another option, I’ll take it.”

“I know you will. See you, Jessie.”

“Bye, Nate.”

I slam his door shut and he waves as he eases his car around in a U-turn and drives way too fast back down the street. I don’t move for a few seconds, staring blankly as his car disappears over the horizon. A soft sensation of yearning suddenly blossoms inside of me, as if I already kind of miss him, as if something was left unsaid.

Then I remember that this is a man with a random woman’s underwear in his glovebox, and turn back home.