“I see Baptist every day. We work together, remember?”
He grins and shrugs. “Right. Yeah. He’s cool.”
“Do you have a crush on my boss, Maxy?”
He rolls his eyes. “Baptist isn’t my type. He’s too—”
“Too much of an asshole?”
“Too outgoing. Too charming. I like my boys a little darker.”
“Well, Maxy, I’m glad you’ve already identified what you like so young in life, because I still have no clue.”
“Don’t worry, eldest and only sister. Your time is coming.”
“That’s ominous. My time for what?”
“I mean your time to be happy, dingus.” He nudges against me and I put my arm around him as we leave the apartment and head downstairs. The car’s parked out front in an ideal spot, and I hate to give it up but the boy needs a ride.
He fiddles with the music on the drive over and hops out as soon as we’re out front. “Don’t forget your homework,” I shout at him as he hurries away, blending into the sea of green and blue uniforms. I sigh and drive off, heading toward Fairmount and my current job.
If you can call it ajob.
I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use.
When Baptist first pitched me on his new production company, I thought it would be glamorous. We’d scout locations, meet with talent, all that good stuff.
I’d get to work with Tony freaking Cowan, one of my movie idols and the man that practically got me into this business to begin with.
His book,Being the Water, sits on my nightstand and I dip into it all the time when I’m feeling creatively empty or frustrated.
The man’s a genius, to say the least.
I thought this would be amazing and fun and exciting—
Instead, it’s mostly sitting around the coffee shop next door to his apartment building and making plans to make plans to do something.
But never actuallydoinganything.
I stop at the pharmacy to run a quick errand then park down the block and walk over. The coffee place is called Shot Through the Heart and it’s basically the same as every other little cafe in Philly, except Baptist is friendly with the owner and we have a reserved table in the back. I step inside and breathe in the smell of espresso, muffins, and bagels, and grin at the girl working the register.
“Morning, Blair,” she chimes. “The usual?”
“Please and thank you.” I lean against the counter as Zoe starts to make my drink, just a basic flat white. “How are things here? Is my boss around?”
Zoe rolls her eyes and her short blonde bob swirls in the morning light. “He’s not in yet.”
“God, typical.” She hands me the drink and I take a sip. “How much?”
“I’ll put it on Baptist’s tab.”
“You’re truly my favorite person alive.”
“I’m your caffeine dealer, so yeah, duh.”
I laugh and head to the door. “I’ll be back with that useless prick in tow.”
She waves as I head back into the day. Baptist lives in a newly renovated building across the block in an obscenely nice apartment. An old lady with two fluffy white dogs is heading out, and I slip in past her, bypassing the outer door buzzer and heading deep into the building. I know this place by heart now—Baptist is late more often than not, and I’ve grown accustomed to dragging his ass out of bed.