“Yep. Moving to Florida and all. He has two sons who will probably take over.” Ugh. Derek. I wished he was moving to Florida. Or Siberia.
Chase and I had been standing just in front of the pool door since we bumped into each other. A guy knocked on the glass and flashed a Dr. Pepper, dangling it in the air.
Chase held up two fingers in response, then explained. “We made a bet. I kicked his ass in lap times. That’s my prize.”
I arched a brow. “A Dr. Pepper?”
“It’s good stuff. Don’t knock it or I won’t bring it to the next family barbecue.”
After another minute, his friend banged again. This time, he waved his hand to Chase as if to say, what the hell is taking you so long?
Chase nodded. “I gotta run. We have a dinner meeting in a half hour, and I need to shower.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “Well, it was nice running into you, cuz.”
Our eyes locked for a minute. Just like the end of the night at the restaurant, Chase looked like he wanted to say something. But instead, he glanced back over his shoulder to where Bryant was swimming, and then pulled me in for a hug, wrapping my ponytail around his fist and tugging my head back to look up at him.
His eyes lingered on my lips before he kissed my forehead. “Later, cuz.”
He took a few steps toward the locker room door before stopping and turning back. “I have a friend who’s a bulldog recruiter. Why don’t I put you in touch with her? Maybe she can help find you something?”
“Sure, I’d love that. I’m not having much luck by myself. Thank you.”
I handed him my cell, and he programmed in his number then sent a text to his own phone so we’d have each other’s contact information. Then he was gone. Immediately, I felt longing. The odds of running into him a second time in this tremendous city were probably as long as being struck by lightning.
It would be less than a week before I found out sometimes lightning strikes twice.
Chapter 3
Chase – Seven years ago
I stared at Peyton’s giant-sized face as I guzzled a bottle of water. The ad covered eight stories of brick on the corner building across from my new office.
“Stop slacking and get to work.” The life-size Peyton let herself into my office, dropped her guitar case on the couch, and joined me at the window. “I cannot believe how big that thing is. You told me one billboard ad. That’s a whole building. That tiny little chip in my front tooth is, like, three feet wide now.”
“I love that chip.”
“I hate it. The director at that callback I had yesterday told me I needed to get it fixed and lose ten pounds.” She lifted her hand to her mouth. “I need to get a laminate or a veneer or something.”
“You don’t need to fix shit, and he’s a moron with no taste.”
She sighed. “I didn’t get the part.”
“See? Told you. No taste.”
“You’re biased because I have sex with you.”
“No.” I pulled her close. “I sat through a fucking opera last week because you have sex with me. I tell you you’re a good musician because I’ve been to every show you’ve played since college, even when you’re hidden in the orchestra pit. And since you started acting, I’ve seen every one of your off-Broadway shows.”
“Off-off-Broadway shows.”
“Wouldn’t off-Broadway cover any show that isn’t on Broadway?”
“No. Off-Broadway is a small show in Manhattan with less than five hundred people. Off-Off-Broadway is that show I did in the Village in the coffee house.”
“You were really good in that.”
Peyton gave me a skeptical face. “What part did I play?”
“The hot girl part.”
“I played the mother who was dying of tuberculosis. You had your nose in a crossword puzzle the entire time.”
Oh. That play. “I might have missed some of that one. In my defense, I had just found crassword puzzles. Come on…three-letter word for something that goes in dry and hard, but comes out wet and soft? I was busy counting the letters in dick, cock, pecker, and prick a dozen times each before figuring out the answer was gum.”
“You’re such a perv.”
I gave her a chaste kiss. “Where are we going for dinner, Chip?”
She covered her mouth but smiled. “Don’t call me that. I could go for Thai. How about that little place in Chelsea we went to last month?”
“Sounds good.” I took one last look at my new billboard as I flicked off the lights and closed my office door.
Outside, I turned left to head to the nearest subway station, but Peyton turned right.
“Could we catch the 3 train on Broadway instead of the usual one?” she asked. “I want to stop over at Little East.”
“Sure.” Peyton had started volunteering at food banks and shelters when we were in college. I loved that she was passionate about helping people. But this place had some rough, transient types. It wasn’t unusual for a fight to break out a couple times a week. I’d tried to broach the subject of her safety. Unfortunately, her volunteering was one of the few areas where she wouldn’t bend.