Page 26 of Back for More

She nods and walks over to the fireplace, absentmindedly touches the edge of the mantle. “That’s sweet. I saw him yesterday. He looks healthy. And happy.” She looks over at me, grinning. “Still like the Stones, I hear?”

I want to turn the music off now that she’s here, but I decide to change the subject instead. “Fanny bolted when you knocked on the door. She might be in the sun-room.”

“Lead the way. I miss sun-rooms. Nobody has sun-rooms in LA. Isn’t that weird?”

I trudge through the living room to the connected dining room, through to the kitchen. “I’d imagine everything about LA is weird.”

She gives me a throaty laugh. “I wouldn’t say that, but I’m quite sure you’d hate it.”

“You planning on heading back there?” Why’d I ask that? I don’t want to talk about that.

She shrugs. “Depends.”

“On what?” Why’d I ask that? I do not want to have this conversation. Not here, not now.

“On how things go here, obviously.” She follows me through the kitchen, to the sun-room, affecting an air of nonchalance about the subject while surveying everything around her.

“You don’t have people waiting for you there?”

Fuck.

Why’d I ask that?

I don’t turn back, but I can hear her smiling. “People?”

“Forget it.” I step to the side of the door and stand there, taking a long pull on my beer before folding my arms in front of my chest like a bouncer.

“I wouldn’t say there are people waiting for me there, exactly.” She steps lightly around the room, looking around for Fanny among the many potted plants and chairs and cat furniture. “Nor would I say there is a person waiting for me there… Then again, I didn’t say there was a person waiting for mehere,either.” She looks coyly over her shoulder at me.

“Sounds about right.”

“This is a perfect room for a cat,” she muses. She bends forward to look under the loveseat, gasping when she spots Fanny in her favorite hiding place. “She’s so big!” She carefully places her bag on the floor and gets down on her hands and knees, crawling closer to the edge of the loveseat, raising her heart-shaped ass up in the air and lowering her head so she’s eye-to-eye with the cat.

Fuck me.

“Hey, baby,” she sings, a slow, quiet ballad. “You remember me? Oh, you’re so beautiful. Look at you. I missed you. I missed you, Fanny Brice.” When she reaches out to touch her, she gets hissed at.

It’s embarrassing, how happy that makes me.

She doesn’t pull back, though. She just lowers herself all the way down onto her side so she can stare at Fanny, her hand still outstretched on the floor. “I know,” she coos. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? You don’t have to leave here if you don’t want to. Not yet. I just wanted to see your beautiful face, okay? Is that okay with you?”

“I think that’s enough for now.”

Lily sighs. “Okay. I’m gonna go now, but I’m gonna come back to see you again, pretty girl.” She whispers, “I love you,” and then pushes herself back up to stand in one swift yoga move or something. She turns to me and says, “She looks really good.”

“Yeah. She is really good. I told you.”

She picks up her shoulder bag and saunters over toward me, eyeing the nearly empty beer bottle in my hand. “Can I have one?”

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

“As opposed to me working for you as your assistant at my father’s company? That’s a fucking great idea.”

“If you’re also here to give your two weeks’ notice, then I accept.”

She plants her fists on her hips. “Listen, Carver. I’m here to work. I’m here to learn. I’m here to do whatever it takes.”

“To get to your trust fund?”