“Did you sleep well?” I’m asked.

Jane is shoveling in a spoonful of organic maple granola and soy milk with her usual breakfast speed. It’s early for her, only about 1 p.m. That’s good, though—I need the mansion to myself today.

Jane laughs with her mouth full, picks up her cereal bowl and takes it with her wherever she’s going.

“Be careful driving with your breakfast,” I yell out to the departing Jane. She laughs from the hallway. We both know that Jane is sure as hell not driving anywhere. Now I can check her off my mental list.

Mary’s out all day with the guy she’s pseudo-dating—maybe all night, too—and Charlie’s shopping for new show wardrobe, which is a multi-hour extravaganza every time. Lydia’s out of town, for real this time, visiting relatives; and most importantly, Catherine is meeting with the merch people and later some of the Bennet Brains. It could be months before I have the mansion to myself again, which is why I have the appointment set with Hawk for another tour.

I don’t know what kind of shit is going on behind the business scenes, and I can’t be bothered to care much. All I know is that it’s taking too damn long for Hawk to commit. I need him desperately to own Bennett Babes and to make a serious bid that cannot be refused.

After last night’s Mr. Big-enabled taste of fulfillment, I cannot give up.

Where the hell is he, anyway? My phone buzzes with a text just as I’m digging it impatiently from my pocket. A message from Hawk is on the screen: “Pullion up nowx.”

Huh. Even with his ancient phone, usually Hawk’s texts aren’t that malformed. “Pulling up now” is the 21^st-century human translation.

Whatever. His timing is perfect. I have hours to convince him, if need be.

By the time I open the heavy-ass door to the driveway, the Escalade limo is driving off and, I see that Hawk is doing a bit better than last time. Instead of standing in the driveway like a denim-covered garden gnome, the Hawkster’s walking towards the door, decked out in a tasteful chocolate-brown corduroy jacket, deep blue button-down, and straight-leg black jeans. The jeans are meant for someone half Hawk’s age, but he still looks a fuck of a lot better than last time.

This better be an omen that he means business.

The Hawk-brand weirdness is back as he stands a few inches away from me silently. He’s grinning, but not as big as usual. He’s thinking about last night’s show, probably. I steal a line from Jane: “Sleep well, Mr. Wickham?”

The Hawk lets himself go with genuine laughter.

“Oh, I did. You’re not kidding about that magic stuff. Pure magic. I’m still speechless, which doesn’t happen to me often.”

I can’t get myself to join Hawk’s laughing, but it’s yet another sign I’m right about this situation. Bennet Babes is mostly supported by fans, and Hawk is a fan with tons of capital and industry experience. I need to encourage this the best I can.

“As you know, Mr. Wickham, that’s the type of performance we can just throw together anytime. If I may say so myself, even something we throw together is head and shoulders above anything else in the industry. And I’m not just tooting my own horn; it’s a group effort.”

“No reason for even mild modesty, missy. Y’all have something special here, and I know something good when I see it.”

Weird, it’s like Hawk is doing my pitch for me…oh, wait, he’s talking about Lydia.

My anxiousness to get this frigging deal done is making me slow on the uptake. Fortunately, I’ve got Hawk’s number, and he’s not exactly Marilyn vos Savant. Oh, Lydia, you’re helping me in more ways than you could imagine.

“Shall we pick up where we left off last time?”

I watch Hawk’s face, waiting for his realization. It takes a second or two longer than it should, but I see it register. Yep, Lydia’s room.

Hawk’s wide grin makes a comeback. I hope he doesn’t have trouble walking there. I gesture for Hawk to follow me inside and immediately start leading him to what I hope is his destiny.

“You know, missy, I think you’re the brains of the operation.” Hawk is trying to talk as he walks. I can hear him struggling with the pace. I put on the breaks gently, slowly turning around to respond as we move towards the marble stairwell.

“Around here, we see you as the brains,” I tell him. “And I do mean everybody—the promotional people, the tech people—your legend is well-known. Everyone’s excited for this new partnership.”

Hawk’s face looks like he just bit into a slightly rotten strawberry.

“That’s a big staff. There’s more to it than I usually think about.” We’re going slow, but Hawk slows down to a near stop. Fucking hell, dude. Don’t get intimidated now.

“It’s nothing compared to the giant productions you’re known for, and we make more than enough to pay everyone very well. On the other hand, we’re still a growing business, and we think you’re the person to best help us reach our potential.”

“Yeah, a growin’ business with a mansion.” Hawk doesn’t go back to smiling, but he stops grimacing. His walking speed picks up a little. I think he’s trying to compliment me, or the company.

“A mansion with Lydia’s room,” I remind him. “Ready to go check it out again?”

Hawk can’t hide his smile anymore. I need to stop straying from his kryptonite.

I let Hawk think, or fantasize, silently on the way to Lydia’s workspace. I wonder if it will be a bit weird hanging out with him, or anyone, in Lydia’s room after my experience last night. I wouldn’t mind revisiting it with Darcy/Mr. Big, though.

However, I feel more than fine as I finally step into Lydia’s divinely white workspace. I tread lightly across the vacuumed plush carpeting—Catherine always makes sure the cam spaces are thoroughly cleaned—and Hawk follows me in with zeal.

“Look familiar?” I ask. Of course, Hawk is no stranger to this room, thanks to taking in endless hours of Lydia-centric shows.

“That’s the chair!” Hawk’s pointing at Lydia’s seat from the show last night. “Lydia’s chair!”

Not Lydia and Jane’s chair, but Lydia’s chair. Even with four other scorching-hot women in that show, Hawk’s focus doesn’t waver.

“That is her chair. Lydia’s been out of town the last couple of times, but this is her home. I’m sure that, as a fan, you’d like to meet Lydia again, and I know she’d love to see you again and pick your brains about business and the industry. Lydia is also massively popular, so as the owner, you’d need to work with her closely. I mean, you’re not technically the owner yet, but…”

“S-stop. Sorry, just hold on.” The Hawk apologizing must mean something, I’d say something good in this case. “I’m not the owner, yet, but I need to take this opportunity more seriously. I want you all to know that. Relay that message to everyone, to Lydia and…everyone else.”

“Uh, okay.”

“I never say this out loud, but you’ve got the upper hand, here. That’s the last damn thing I should ever say, but I am not letting this slip through my fingers. Let it be known...is it Alice? My apologies.”

“It’s Lizzie.”

“Let it be known, Lizzie, that I’m bidding again, and it’s going to be a doozy. This partnership is happening.”

Suddenly, a classic mobile ringtone tolls out from Hawk’s front jeans pocket. He reaches to get it, but stops suddenly. Hawk presses a button on the device, still in his pocket, to silence it.

“Let it also be known that I’m getting a better phone. Don’t worry about showing me out, now. I’ll take care of that.”

Without giving me a chance to respond, Hawk does a quick one-eighty and flies out the door into the hallway. I sneak across Lydia’s carpet and peek out the door at the Hawk trotting down the hall. I want to see what the phone call was all about.

Hawk already has his phone to his ear as I watch him disappear down the hall.

“Yeah, thanks for callin’ when I asked.” I can clearly hear Hawk’s voice echoing throughout the corridor. “I’m finished now. I don’t want to wait in the driveway, so hurry up. You can gas up later, not on my time.”

Hawk is talking to his chauffer. He probably thinks it makes him look important to get phone calls, and asks people to call him during meetings.

Well, I suppose he is important now, though: he’s the new owner of Bennet Babes.