Page 92 of Score
“It was a small part,” she says, half-heartedly deflecting his praise.
Something is familiar about her, but I can’t quite…
“You were the cashier!” I blurt, genuine excitement making me momentarily forget her connection to Monk. “You were so good.”
“Oh, wow.” Her smile, uncertain at first, progresses to pleased. “Thank you. And you are…”
“Verity Hill,” Monk introduces smoothly. “Verity, Meekah Frank.”
“Ms. Hill!” Meekah’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’m a huge fan of your work.”
“Thanks.” I cross my toes, still unaccustomed to people recognizing my name or knowing me from a can of beans.
“Verity and I were at Finley together,” Monk offers.
“Briefly,” I clarify. Why? Who knows.
“Right.” Monk’s brows lift and he twists his mouth into a cynical slant. “Briefly.”
An awkward silence follows his comment, but Desiree approaches before either of us has to say more.
Thank God.
She eyes Monk and Meekah speculatively, probably wondering which one of them I’m into.
“Sorry about that,” Desiree says. “Industry shit.”
“My agent wishes I did more of that,” I mumble, sipping the last of my ginger ale.
“Having seen you at parties,” Monk says, “I could tell her good luck with that.”
“Rude, but also valid.” I roll my eyes and find my manners. “Desiree, this is Monk Bellamy.”
“Of course,” Desiree replies. “An honor to meet you. Love your music.”
“And this is Meekah Frank,” I continue introductions. “Meekah is—”
“The cashier,” Desiree squeals. “Girl, you owned that scene.”
Meekah beams. “Thank you. It’s a great script.”
“Well, thankyou,” Desiree replies and bats her lashes. “I wrote it.”
“You’re the writer?” Meekah asks. “That’s so cool.”
“You guys haven’t met?” I ask.
“I was never on set,” Desiree says. “Or involved in casting. I actually didn’t see the final cut till right before release!”
Monk and I fall silent as our friends connect over the movie they’re both here for. I focus really hard onnotfeeling the heat of his body on the wall beside me and onnotbreathing in the intoxicating alchemy of his cologne mixed with his…him.
This will be over soon. Desiree and I will leave to have a celebratory meal and drink, catch up on life. Monk will take Meekah somewhere.Maybe he’ll take her home. Good-night kiss on the porch? Put her through the mattress for old times’ sake?
“Isn’t that one of your favorite movies, Verity?”
I’m ripped from my private spiral when my name is called.
“Huh?” I search the three faces for any sign of what we’re discussing. “What?”
