Chapter 18
Brooke
My house is quiet when I walk in, my ears open and receptive. “Nanette?”
No answer. I set the grocery bags I’d been carrying on the kitchen counter, then walk through the living room. “Nanette…are you here?”
“In your bedroom,” she calls out.
My little three-bedroom, two-bath Mediterranean-style bungalow with red tiled roof and stucco walls is actually one of the big things I cherish about moving here from New York. It’s only about sixteen hundred square feet, but that seems monstrous to me after living in half that size for years.
And yet it’s just still not quite big enough to give me space from Nanette. She’s been here three days and I can’t wait until Sunday when she flies back to New York. I feel terrible at the same time for thinking that, but these last few days have reminded me why we weren’t the best of friends.
In looking back on our relationship spending five years at the same job together, I realize I could handle Nanette in small doses. At work that may have been a few encounters throughout the day. Nanette mainly did assistance on photo shoots for the magazine and some days I wouldn’t see her at all because she’d be away on location. The times we went out for a meal or drinks were just as sparse, and usually with a group of people. During those periods, it’s almost as if she had a “good behavior” tank filled up that fortunately for me never got depleted in the short snatches of time we spent together. But I think the tank was empty by day two and the real Nanette was exposed: a lazy, freeloading visitor who was trying all of my patience.
Bishop came by the arena today to take me to lunch, and I basically complained the entire time. He loved teasing me about it too.
“She seems pretty nice to me,” he’d said with a sly smile.
“Despite the fact she has nowhere to be, she gets up before I do, and uses all the hot water in her shower,” I grumbled, and then added, “She does it on purpose.”
“Oh come on, Brooke,” he’d teased me. “Really?”
“She threw a tantrum that I only have 2 percent milk in the fridge versus fat free.”
Bishop chuckled and took my hand in his, giving me some comfort by stroking the back with his thumb, all while his eyes glittered with amusement.
“She talks about herself nonstop,” I complained to him. “I know way too much detail about her hair, skin, stomach intolerances, her alcoholic daddy, her overachiever sister who she can’t compare to, her last ex-boyfriend who she actually trolls on social media, an affair she had with one of the assistant editors at the magazine, and her sex life.” I added that last bit with a slight shudder. “Let’s just say I don’t know if I can look Dax in the face again, as she was way too explicit about what they’ve been doing together.”
Bishop at least had the grace to look a little sympathetic before stating, “Well, that ship has sailed. Dax isn’t going back for more.”
“Because she has a certain level of crazy, right?” I asked, feeling vindicated.
“Actually, he said she wasn’t that great in the sack,” he told me truthfully. “But yeah, I think she was also latching on to him a little too hard after just a few days.”
Bishop went on to tell me that Dax politely told her last night after he dropped her off at my house that he would be too busy to see her again before she left to return home to New York. I didn’t know this firsthand, as Bishop and I were sleeping when she came in, and this morning, she was secured back in her room after taking an early shower along with all the hot water.
Now she’s in my bedroom.
Steeling myself and willing my nerves not to get too frazzled, I head in there to join her.
To find Nanette going through my closet.
My gaze sweeps the room to see several of my outfits laid neatly out on the bed with shoes on the floor below each, as if she’s putting together a wardrobe for a fashion show. She has all my jewelry pulled out and spread across my dresser.
“What—” I say, getting ready to follow it with the fuck is going on, but I catch myself. She’s a guest in my home, but more important, she’s carrying around a big secret about Bishop and me. I have to tread carefully. So I cough and say in just a generically curious tone, “What’s going on?”
She gives me a sharp expression then looks back to a dress she’s holding up to admire. Nanette then brings it up to her body and turns to look in the mirror on the back of my door. Without looking at me, she answers, “I’m just trying on a few of your things. I know you wouldn’t mind me borrowing them.”
My fingers curl inward, my hands balling into fists. Still, I keep a pleasant smile plastered to my face. “Oh yeah?”
She nods. “I’ve got a job interview next week.”
“What?” I gasp in shock.
Her eyes finally come to me in the mirror. “Yeah…I was out last night with the guys—”
“The guys?” I ask, having no clue what she’s talking about, as I thought she was out with Dax.
“Erik, Legend, Dax,” she says with a shrug. “And there were some others who work in the organization there too. I can’t remember all their names, but I met Sebastian Parr. He’s the director of merchandising, and well…he told me about a job opening in his division.”
What in the hell?
There was no job opening there. Sebastian had me doing some temporary work to determine if they could fit me into the budget in that department.
And then it hits me. My eyes narrow as she shoves the dress back into the closet and pulls out another. “Was, um…Sebastian kind of flirting with you?”
Nanette doesn’t look at me but nods with a purring type of laugh. “Oh was he ever. And I was flirting right back. It’s how I got the interview.”
I just bet. Sebastian is a flirty guy, but it’s always seemed harmless to me and I never engaged. But if Nanette was giving it back to him, I could see her “persuading” him to give her an interview.
I poke at her a bit more. “But I thought you were with Dax last night.”
“I was,” she says casually, and then turns to me. “And let me tell you, he’s got it so bad for me, Brooke. But I just don’t want to be pinned down, so I kind of broke things off last night. I’m thinking about calling Erik, though. He could totally be a nice diversion.”
Oh, just…gross. I’m all for women having the same sexual liberation as men, but in the span of just a few minutes, she’s practically told me about her using three men with no shame at all. I’m really glad Dax wiped his hands of her, and now I feel the pressing need to give Erik a serious heads up.
“What do you think about this one?” Nanette asks as she turns from the closet to face me, holding up, ironically, a Nanette Lepore silk A-line dress with an asymmetrical hem. It’s not one of my favorites so I shrug.
“Why are you interviewing for a job here?” I ask her.
“Well…I didn’t actually take a vacation to come here and see you,” she admits to me with a sly smile. “I quit the magazine, and thought, what the heck, Brooke is starting a new career, why shouldn’t I?”
My jaw just hangs open and I really can’t think of a single fucking thing to say to her. I’d like to say something like, “You could have told me the truth,” but that rings hollow given that the minute she go here, I pulled her into Bishop’s and my lie.
“And you know, you and I could be roommates,” she continues without even blinking an eye. “I couldn’t pay rent until I got a job, of course, but I’ll help clean up and stuff.”
Yeah right. She hasn’t lifted a finger since she got here.
“Nanette,” I start to say, hoping to perhaps get her to slow down and think this through, but my doorbell rings.
Bishop.
I’d invited him to dinner tonight. I was going to make fajitas and margaritas, and now I’m thinking just margaritas. That’s really all I want.
I look back at the mess for a moment, and then to Nanette. “Look…that’s Bishop and I need to get dinner started. We’re having fajitas if you’d like to join us.”
“Sounds awesome,” she says brightly, and then proceeds to drop my dress to the floor before turning back to my closet and grabbing another.
I grit my teeth and walk out of my bedroom.
“I want to kill her,” I hiss to Bishop in a low voice that can’t possibly carry through to my bedroom, where Nanette is still rooting around in my closet.
Bishop has the sense to not laugh but instead refills my margarita glass. It took me two minutes on my front porch to tell him what had just transpired before he pulled me into my kitchen, sat me on a stool, and made a pitcher of margaritas. Her poured me a glass and started fixing dinner while I drank.
And drank.
I was on my second glass—with him filling that up—well, second and a half glass.
“She can’t stay here,” Bishop says in a low voice, and I want to kiss him so much for saying that. “You’ll end up killing her, and I don’t want conjugal visits with you in prison.”
I snort and take a sip of my drink. When I set it back down, I lean across the counter so I can lower my voice even further. “I have to be careful with her. I don’t know what she’d do about our secret if I pissed her off.”
“Christ,” he mutters as he slices a red bell pepper. “What a mess this is causing for you.”
I agree with that sentiment by taking a long pull on the margarita. He eyes me with a smirk before going back to cutting. “Do you get freaky kinky when you’re drunk?”
I blink at him in surprise, look down at my drink, and then back to Bishop. “Um…I don’t know.”
He nods at my drink with a wicked smile. “Keep drinking. We’ll find out tonight.”
There’s no stopping the giggle that comes out of me. I run my finger along the rim, gathering some salt. I lick it off and then ask him, “But seriously, what am I going to do? And what about this job interview with Sebastian? Either that’s a total fabrication he made to get in her pants, or he’s really going to seriously consider opening it up to her?”
Bishop stops chopping and lays the knife down. He places both palms on the counter and leans over it to put his face closer to mine. “Listen, Brooke. I don’t know what her game is or what Sebastian’s is. All I care about is that you don’t get trampled on. Want me to talk to him?”
The horror that overtakes my expression gives Bishop his answer.
But it doesn’t dissuade him. “There’s nothing wrong with a person like me using my star clout to get something from the organization. Celebrities and sports stars do it all the time.”
I shake my head, cutting off the offer. “It’s sweet, but no. I’ll handle the job issue myself, but any advice you have about Nanette is appreciated. I do not want her for my roommate, short term or long term. How do I tell her that?”
I get a soft look from him; it tells me he truly feels for me and my predicament. I also see a low burning anger in his expression. That’s his protectiveness. Reaching a hand out, he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. An intimate, sweet move that has my belly feeling like it’s filled with champagne bubbles. “Let’s not get too panicky right now. She could be just blustering, and like you said, there’s most likely not even a real job offer. She could be heading back to New York as planned this weekend. Let’s just wait and see.”
I take a deep breath in and let it out, noting that those words really just calmed me down. My chest isn’t tight with anxiety, or maybe that’s the liquor. Regardless, I give him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Bishop.”
“Anytime, baby,” he replies with a wink. He then nods back to the margarita. “But keep drinking, okay? I really want to see how fun you get when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not getting drunk,” I admonish him. “I have to work tomorrow.”
His face falls slightly, so I add, “But I’m still willing to get kinky with you tonight.”
His lips curve upward, a grin spreading across his face. “Looking forward to it.”