beach.
They zipped to Santa Monica in Troy’s little car and grabbed iced coffee on the
Promenade. They saw a movie, something neither had much interest in seeing,
something Vish forgot as soon as the end credits rolled. Troy insisted on
paying for everything, quietly and politely but in a way that left no room for
argument. Troy turned into a chipper and implacable brick wall whenever Vish
tried to counter-insist on picking up the tab, rendering all his efforts useless.
Well, hell.
She’d seen his shabby apartment, she knew he didn’t have a car, she knew where
he worked, she knew he didn’t have health insurance… Later, as they were
zipping back to his place, something dawned on him. “Back at the hospital, you
didn’t pay my bill, did you?”
She went pink
again. “Actually, I did, yeah. It was easier that way.”
“There’s no
need,” he said. “Please. You can’t do this. There’s absolutely no reason you
should pay for that.”
“But I
pressured you into going. And you don’t have insurance.” She smiled, somehow
managing to seem both conciliatory and unrepentant. “Look, I don’t mean to
offend you, but I have an awful lot of money right now, and it’s no big deal.
Just let me do this for you, please. It makes everything so much smoother.”
Vish exhaled,
unsatisfied but not knowing how to push the point. “You’re so nice ,” he
said.
Troy giggled.
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“No. It’s
wonderful, and I’m so grateful to you. But you don’t know me, and you’ve done
so much for me today. I feel inadequate.”
She glanced at
him. “Don’t,” she said. “I want to do this. Don’t think about it, don’t worry
about it, don’t feel bad about it.”
Vish leaned
back against the headrest and watched the scenery, feeling like there was more
he should say and not having the faintest idea how to say it.
Chapter Seven
V ish didn’t expect to hear from Troy again.
They’d exchanged email addresses before parting, and he’d dutifully sent her
his novel, along with a quick message thanking her in advance for any help she
could give him but making it clear nothing was expected. It’d taken him much
too long to compose the note, to find the right balance: polite yet casual,
interested but not creepy.
Two days later,
he returned home from Comestibles and found Troy parked in front of his
building. She slipped out of her car and fell into step with him as he
approached the gate. “Vish! Sorry for just stopping by, but I wanted to let you
know I read your book. I stayed up most of an entire night finishing it,” she
said. “I passed it along to Greg at my agency, and he’s forwarded it to the
literary desk, though it’ll probably take a while before they get to it. But I
thought it was wonderful.”
“Thank you,”
Vish said. He glanced at her. She seemed sincere. Then again, she was an
actress. “Thank you very much.”
“So here’s the
thing,” she said. She was turning pink again. “I also gave it to
Freddie—Freddie Halterman, he’s the guy who created Interstellar Boys ,
and he’s brilliant and awesome—and I told him about you and how good your book
is and how you’re looking for work...”
She stopped.
Vish’s heartbeat picked up a little. “Oh?”
“Yeah, and he’s
really interested in meeting you. He said he looked through your book, I’m sure
he hasn’t had a chance to read it all the way yet, but I know he was totally
impressed with your writing. I also know he wants to add more staff writers. I
can’t say for sure that’s what he’s going to offer you, and I don’t want to get
your hopes up, but he said to tell you he’d be interested in meeting you.”
“Wow. Troy,
thank you.” Absurd to think the creator of a television series might offer a
writing job to an unknown, but maybe Troy’s opinion carried a lot of weight.
“That’s great news.”
“I thought we
could have dinner. To celebrate.” She hoisted a bulging
They zipped to Santa Monica in Troy’s little car and grabbed iced coffee on the
Promenade. They saw a movie, something neither had much interest in seeing,
something Vish forgot as soon as the end credits rolled. Troy insisted on
paying for everything, quietly and politely but in a way that left no room for
argument. Troy turned into a chipper and implacable brick wall whenever Vish
tried to counter-insist on picking up the tab, rendering all his efforts useless.
Well, hell.
She’d seen his shabby apartment, she knew he didn’t have a car, she knew where
he worked, she knew he didn’t have health insurance… Later, as they were
zipping back to his place, something dawned on him. “Back at the hospital, you
didn’t pay my bill, did you?”
She went pink
again. “Actually, I did, yeah. It was easier that way.”
“There’s no
need,” he said. “Please. You can’t do this. There’s absolutely no reason you
should pay for that.”
“But I
pressured you into going. And you don’t have insurance.” She smiled, somehow
managing to seem both conciliatory and unrepentant. “Look, I don’t mean to
offend you, but I have an awful lot of money right now, and it’s no big deal.
Just let me do this for you, please. It makes everything so much smoother.”
Vish exhaled,
unsatisfied but not knowing how to push the point. “You’re so nice ,” he
said.
Troy giggled.
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“No. It’s
wonderful, and I’m so grateful to you. But you don’t know me, and you’ve done
so much for me today. I feel inadequate.”
She glanced at
him. “Don’t,” she said. “I want to do this. Don’t think about it, don’t worry
about it, don’t feel bad about it.”
Vish leaned
back against the headrest and watched the scenery, feeling like there was more
he should say and not having the faintest idea how to say it.
Chapter Seven
V ish didn’t expect to hear from Troy again.
They’d exchanged email addresses before parting, and he’d dutifully sent her
his novel, along with a quick message thanking her in advance for any help she
could give him but making it clear nothing was expected. It’d taken him much
too long to compose the note, to find the right balance: polite yet casual,
interested but not creepy.
Two days later,
he returned home from Comestibles and found Troy parked in front of his
building. She slipped out of her car and fell into step with him as he
approached the gate. “Vish! Sorry for just stopping by, but I wanted to let you
know I read your book. I stayed up most of an entire night finishing it,” she
said. “I passed it along to Greg at my agency, and he’s forwarded it to the
literary desk, though it’ll probably take a while before they get to it. But I
thought it was wonderful.”
“Thank you,”
Vish said. He glanced at her. She seemed sincere. Then again, she was an
actress. “Thank you very much.”
“So here’s the
thing,” she said. She was turning pink again. “I also gave it to
Freddie—Freddie Halterman, he’s the guy who created Interstellar Boys ,
and he’s brilliant and awesome—and I told him about you and how good your book
is and how you’re looking for work...”
She stopped.
Vish’s heartbeat picked up a little. “Oh?”
“Yeah, and he’s
really interested in meeting you. He said he looked through your book, I’m sure
he hasn’t had a chance to read it all the way yet, but I know he was totally
impressed with your writing. I also know he wants to add more staff writers. I
can’t say for sure that’s what he’s going to offer you, and I don’t want to get
your hopes up, but he said to tell you he’d be interested in meeting you.”
“Wow. Troy,
thank you.” Absurd to think the creator of a television series might offer a
writing job to an unknown, but maybe Troy’s opinion carried a lot of weight.
“That’s great news.”
“I thought we
could have dinner. To celebrate.” She hoisted a bulging
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