Dating You / Hating You
Page 31
Carter nods, and I decide to move on. “Now, let’s talk about that retreat.”
• • •
Dinner turned out as well as could be hoped. We have a solid plan for the event in January, and we each have a list of piddly homework items we need to find time for before we meet up again. As we walk out, one comment leads to another and Carter is telling me a story about how Michael got Steph a kinky cast-making kit for their anniversary so they could craft a mold of his penis and build her a toy for whenever she travels. Instead, she thought he was subtly telling her he had cancer and had found a way for her to remember him when he was gone.
I laugh so hard Carter wraps his hand around my forearm and keeps it there for a moment to make sure I’m steady. I hate how funny he is, and I hate how much I want him to keep touching me. I hate this entire situation.
We pull apart and keep walking away from Sunset, up Doheny. It’s warm, but not with the cloying death haze of early October. I look over at him as he takes a deep, calming breath.
“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” I say.
He looks up at the sky. “I wonder whether I’ll ever live somewhere where I can see all the stars.”
“That’s what vacations are for.”
He grins. “Vacation? Was ist das?”
This makes me laugh. “I know. I guess we can’t really expect much of that this year.”
He gives me a smile that’s both sweet and a little sad, and then shakes himself out of it. Pointing up the hill, he says, “I live just a few blocks up.”
I look over his shoulder and off in that direction. His apartment is that way.
His bed.
I’ve never been to his place. I mean, of course I haven’t: we had a relationship for a weekend, if that. Even though it feels like a much bigger event in my romantic life than it actually was. I can’t decide if that’s internally meaningful in a rallying Don’t give up way, or in a pathetic This is the sad state of your romantic landscape way.
Regardless, he hasn’t said this as a lead-up to asking whether I want to walk up there with him, because we both know there’s no way that can happen, even if we both clearly grapple with the unsaid: Under other circumstances we would totally be banging there tonight. And given what I know—
1. We’re both stressed out of our minds
2. Carter is fun and funny
3. Carter has a great penis
—the sex would undoubtedly be stellar.
But instead, we exchange a lingering hug and part ways on the sidewalk. Watching him disappear up the tree-shrouded hill, I can’t decide if tonight was a step forward or sideways. Should I be grateful for sideways? Carter sparks these enormous emotions in me—most of them good, and then I resent the situation all over again—but then he gets defensive and weird, and I basically want to strangle him. All we can do is try to make the best of things. I like Carter, but simply put: neither of us is doing this job because we like coming in second. Signing Adam Elliott and Sarah Hill was a huge coup for me, and Carter’s got to be feeling the pressure. Of course he wants to land Dan. Maybe I should try to show a little more empathy and eventually, we might even find a way to be friends.
As if the universe finds this all completely hilarious, just as I climb into my car my phone chimes with an email from a VIP sender. It’s from Dave Cyrus, my entertainment contact at the Hollywood Vine.
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 9:42 PM
From: Dave Cyrus
To: Evelyn Abbey
Subject: Dan Printz
Evie,
Reaching out to hear if Dan is headed onto your list. That’s the buzz, at least. Likely to run with something either way, but if you know something, I’d like to wait for the scoop and run a Hot Buzz feature when he signs on. Let me know.
Dave
With a groan, I let my head fall back against the headrest, closing my eyes. This is huge. Dave has heard from somewhere that Dan is signing with me. A Hot Buzz feature means print edition of the monthly magazine—with the best circulation of any trade journal in the industry—as well as a huge spread in the online edition. It would be great promo for Dan, and an amazing carrot to dangle to get him to join P&D.
I am ninety-eight percent positive I could call Dan right now, find out what he’s thinking he’s going to do, and convince him to join my list.
But I can’t.
Because I am not a backstabbing monster.
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 9:47 PM
From: Evelyn Abbey
To: Dave Cyrus
Subject: Re: Dan Printz
Dave, it kills me to have to say this, but a colleague is angling to sign Dan, and I couldn’t in good conscience use this to snag him. It would be a huge, huge favor to me if you would extend the same offer to him. His name is Carter Aaron. He’s new to P&D and we were lucky enough to land him in the merge—he’s spectacular. I would owe you big time.
His email is [email protected].
Evie
* * *
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 9:59 PM
From: Dave Cyrus
To: Evelyn Abbey
Subject: Re: Dan Printz
Are you going soft in your old age?
I’m teasing. Sure, I’ll reach out to Carter. Drop me a line when you want to grab a drink.
Dave
Chapter twelve
Carter
You have got to be kidding.
I stare at my phone, mouth open and toothpaste running down my chin until the screen fades to black. After spitting into the sink, I bring up the email again. Unbelievable. Dave Cyrus wants to talk to me about Dan Printz.
I type out a quick reply telling him I’m definitely up for a chat and include all of my contact information. Hollywood Vine has the largest distribution of any Hollywood daily; going after Dan with this kind of thing in my back pocket could almost guarantee landing him. Landing him and getting this kind of press is exactly what I need right out of the gate. It could literally change everything.
Evie was right; it’s time to make my move.
I’ve done every bit of research I can on Dan Printz. I know he wants to feel like he’s the one calling the shots, despite surrounding himself with an entourage of school friends who influence almost every one of his decisions—a constant battle and, I’m guessing, a cause of some of the drama he’s rumored to be having with his current agent. He regrets his biggest role to date, portraying a time-traveling vigilante, but is smart enough to never, ever allude to that during interviews. I know who he’s dated, what kind of music he likes, and that he still can’t distinguish between your and you’re on Twitter. Last year he slept with his costar’s now-ex-wife, and when he was twenty he spent a week at a Vegas brothel. However, he’s never late, always respectful in interviews, and never a problem on set.
Some of that might seem unimportant, but I don’t make money if my clients aren’t busy working—an impossible task if the actor in question is a nightmare and nobody wants to be around them.
It’s Saturday, but I’m still the new guy in town, which means that, while the office might technically be closed, there’s no such thing as a day off—not even if it’s Halloween. Especially given Dave’s email. I need to get on this Dan Printz thing now.
A glance at my watch shows it’s just after nine, and I’ll have plenty of time to get in a quick call to Dan before brunch with a VP of development at Paramount. Normally I’d have Justin set up a phone call, but this doesn’t feel like it can wait. The line rings once before being answered by a gruff voice.
• • •
Dinner turned out as well as could be hoped. We have a solid plan for the event in January, and we each have a list of piddly homework items we need to find time for before we meet up again. As we walk out, one comment leads to another and Carter is telling me a story about how Michael got Steph a kinky cast-making kit for their anniversary so they could craft a mold of his penis and build her a toy for whenever she travels. Instead, she thought he was subtly telling her he had cancer and had found a way for her to remember him when he was gone.
I laugh so hard Carter wraps his hand around my forearm and keeps it there for a moment to make sure I’m steady. I hate how funny he is, and I hate how much I want him to keep touching me. I hate this entire situation.
We pull apart and keep walking away from Sunset, up Doheny. It’s warm, but not with the cloying death haze of early October. I look over at him as he takes a deep, calming breath.
“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” I say.
He looks up at the sky. “I wonder whether I’ll ever live somewhere where I can see all the stars.”
“That’s what vacations are for.”
He grins. “Vacation? Was ist das?”
This makes me laugh. “I know. I guess we can’t really expect much of that this year.”
He gives me a smile that’s both sweet and a little sad, and then shakes himself out of it. Pointing up the hill, he says, “I live just a few blocks up.”
I look over his shoulder and off in that direction. His apartment is that way.
His bed.
I’ve never been to his place. I mean, of course I haven’t: we had a relationship for a weekend, if that. Even though it feels like a much bigger event in my romantic life than it actually was. I can’t decide if that’s internally meaningful in a rallying Don’t give up way, or in a pathetic This is the sad state of your romantic landscape way.
Regardless, he hasn’t said this as a lead-up to asking whether I want to walk up there with him, because we both know there’s no way that can happen, even if we both clearly grapple with the unsaid: Under other circumstances we would totally be banging there tonight. And given what I know—
1. We’re both stressed out of our minds
2. Carter is fun and funny
3. Carter has a great penis
—the sex would undoubtedly be stellar.
But instead, we exchange a lingering hug and part ways on the sidewalk. Watching him disappear up the tree-shrouded hill, I can’t decide if tonight was a step forward or sideways. Should I be grateful for sideways? Carter sparks these enormous emotions in me—most of them good, and then I resent the situation all over again—but then he gets defensive and weird, and I basically want to strangle him. All we can do is try to make the best of things. I like Carter, but simply put: neither of us is doing this job because we like coming in second. Signing Adam Elliott and Sarah Hill was a huge coup for me, and Carter’s got to be feeling the pressure. Of course he wants to land Dan. Maybe I should try to show a little more empathy and eventually, we might even find a way to be friends.
As if the universe finds this all completely hilarious, just as I climb into my car my phone chimes with an email from a VIP sender. It’s from Dave Cyrus, my entertainment contact at the Hollywood Vine.
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 9:42 PM
From: Dave Cyrus
To: Evelyn Abbey
Subject: Dan Printz
Evie,
Reaching out to hear if Dan is headed onto your list. That’s the buzz, at least. Likely to run with something either way, but if you know something, I’d like to wait for the scoop and run a Hot Buzz feature when he signs on. Let me know.
Dave
With a groan, I let my head fall back against the headrest, closing my eyes. This is huge. Dave has heard from somewhere that Dan is signing with me. A Hot Buzz feature means print edition of the monthly magazine—with the best circulation of any trade journal in the industry—as well as a huge spread in the online edition. It would be great promo for Dan, and an amazing carrot to dangle to get him to join P&D.
I am ninety-eight percent positive I could call Dan right now, find out what he’s thinking he’s going to do, and convince him to join my list.
But I can’t.
Because I am not a backstabbing monster.
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 9:47 PM
From: Evelyn Abbey
To: Dave Cyrus
Subject: Re: Dan Printz
Dave, it kills me to have to say this, but a colleague is angling to sign Dan, and I couldn’t in good conscience use this to snag him. It would be a huge, huge favor to me if you would extend the same offer to him. His name is Carter Aaron. He’s new to P&D and we were lucky enough to land him in the merge—he’s spectacular. I would owe you big time.
His email is [email protected].
Evie
* * *
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 9:59 PM
From: Dave Cyrus
To: Evelyn Abbey
Subject: Re: Dan Printz
Are you going soft in your old age?
I’m teasing. Sure, I’ll reach out to Carter. Drop me a line when you want to grab a drink.
Dave
Chapter twelve
Carter
You have got to be kidding.
I stare at my phone, mouth open and toothpaste running down my chin until the screen fades to black. After spitting into the sink, I bring up the email again. Unbelievable. Dave Cyrus wants to talk to me about Dan Printz.
I type out a quick reply telling him I’m definitely up for a chat and include all of my contact information. Hollywood Vine has the largest distribution of any Hollywood daily; going after Dan with this kind of thing in my back pocket could almost guarantee landing him. Landing him and getting this kind of press is exactly what I need right out of the gate. It could literally change everything.
Evie was right; it’s time to make my move.
I’ve done every bit of research I can on Dan Printz. I know he wants to feel like he’s the one calling the shots, despite surrounding himself with an entourage of school friends who influence almost every one of his decisions—a constant battle and, I’m guessing, a cause of some of the drama he’s rumored to be having with his current agent. He regrets his biggest role to date, portraying a time-traveling vigilante, but is smart enough to never, ever allude to that during interviews. I know who he’s dated, what kind of music he likes, and that he still can’t distinguish between your and you’re on Twitter. Last year he slept with his costar’s now-ex-wife, and when he was twenty he spent a week at a Vegas brothel. However, he’s never late, always respectful in interviews, and never a problem on set.
Some of that might seem unimportant, but I don’t make money if my clients aren’t busy working—an impossible task if the actor in question is a nightmare and nobody wants to be around them.
It’s Saturday, but I’m still the new guy in town, which means that, while the office might technically be closed, there’s no such thing as a day off—not even if it’s Halloween. Especially given Dave’s email. I need to get on this Dan Printz thing now.
A glance at my watch shows it’s just after nine, and I’ll have plenty of time to get in a quick call to Dan before brunch with a VP of development at Paramount. Normally I’d have Justin set up a phone call, but this doesn’t feel like it can wait. The line rings once before being answered by a gruff voice.
