Page 3 of A Crazy Kind of Love
That made me laugh again, and my momentary gloom lifted. I reached into my camera bag and produced a plain white card with just my name and contact info. “And you?”
Micah patted his pocket and came up with a wallet. He slid a card out and held it toward me. I started to scan it when he laid a finger on my shoulder, and my eyes closed for a beat as I leaned my head against his hand. What had come over me?
“It was good to meet you, Jo-Josie from Georgia, Atlanta. I hope I see you again.” He looked into my eyes once more, more serious than before. “And don’t let this business change you.”
He gave my arm a quick squeeze, then turned and headed away from me, and I stood planted in that spot enjoying the view as he walked away. I sighed, hoping maybe he’d asked for my card so he could call me. I dropped my eyes back to his and read, “Micah Sinclair. Theater of the Absurd.”
My jaw dropped.
I’d been talking to Micah Sinclair for a good thirty minutes.Micah freaking Sinclair. My head fell back, and I stared at the clouds passing. He’d been in my clutches, and I hadn’t asked him a single hard-hitting question. And the picture I’d shot—I didn’t want to think about it.
My boss would eat me alive. If I didn’t kill myself first. I could have delivered a click-bait-worthy photo if I’d had the first clue I’d been hanging out with a sought-after commodity.
In my defense, I didn’t have an encyclopedic mind like Andy. And I didn’t have the experience to recall every single minor celebrity who graced the tabloids. In fact, I had to wrack my brains to think of the last thing I’d even heard about Micah. Something about a girlfriend, I thought. It didn’t matter. None of my excuses would hold water in the court of Andy.
I considered chasing after Micah. I could take a picture of his backside. It was a worthy subject in my estimation. But I was already going to catch hell for the one crazy-ass shot I’d taken—especially without a printable quote. I could have deleted the picture and pretended this never happened. But Andy would make my life even more insufferable if I returned altogether empty-handed.
An ember of hope began to bloom as I remembered I had Micah’s contact info. What if I called and sweet-talked him into a quote? I lifted his card again and read the words “Please contact my agent at—” And all hope died.
Fixated on Micah’s last statement, I trudged back toward the subway. “Don’t let this business change you.” All along, he’d known I was missing a golden opportunity, and he must have been laughing at me the whole time. I squared my shoulders and decided to chalk it up to a learning experience. Yet another one.
Ordinarily, such a humiliation would have left me near tears. But as I walked, I began to laugh. At the very least, I’d have a hilarious adventure story to tell Zion. And in spite of everything, it had been the most fun I’d had since I couldn’t remember when. Micah had turned out to be the bright spot in an otherwise cursed day.
As I neared the entrance to the subway, a young girl wearing face paint and holding a bright red balloon caught my eye. I reached left and switched to my personal camera, pressing the shutter to capture a burst of images. Bright sunlight created a halo in her wild curly locks. Her parents hunched over a map, blind to the masterpiece of their child. The girl glanced up and saw me. I knelt on the sidewalk and winked at her. She tilted her head and looked directly into the camera. A guileless smile broke out. She was missing her front tooth.
Click click click.Beautiful.
Chapter 2
Igiggled as I rode the elevator to the newsroom floor, mentally reliving my madcap morning. In the few months I’d been tracking down celebrities, I’d never interacted with any of them like that. Like people. I wondered why Micah had approached me when he had nothing to gain from it. Not gonna lie. It made me feel a little bit special to be singled out by him. I lectured myself not to go and develop a crush on someone so completely out of my reach, but it was too late. I was smitten.
A stomach growl warned me I needed to grab something to eat soon, but I wanted to catch Zion before Andy came back from lunch.
Thankfully, the office was practically deserted. I skulked toward my desk, trying not to attract the attention of the office busybodies. Derek was too busy shoveling forkfuls of tikka masala out of a Styrofoam box to pay me any mind. A blob of brown sauce clung to his hipster beard, and I suppressed a gag. A few tables over, Leonard quietly blew steam from his coffee as he read a competitor’s paper, squirreling away more gossip into his encyclopedic memory.
We didn’t have cubes like the other offices. Our open-concept department looked like some kind of art studio or architectural firm. Black wooden tables lined one wall that had tall bright windows. Instead of watercolor paper or blueprints, these workstations held state-of-the-art flat-screen monitors—usually two or three per dock. Simply drop a laptop onto the port and stalk away. And instead of rolling around in comfy office chairs, we had to perch on high stools. Andy thought it encouraged us to work in the office as little as possible. We were meant to be out on the street.
As I settled in front of my computer and connected my camera to the server via WiFi, I caught Zion’s eye and silently invited him to come hither with a stealthy sideways jerk of my head. He dropped off his stool and sidled up beside me.
While I searched the share drive for the picture of Micah I’d just uploaded, Zion laid his chin on my shoulder. As soon as the image opened, he sucked in a sharp gasp. “You ran into Micah Sinclair?” Zion had been at this job for years but still got excited about celebrities, especially the beautiful ones. He leaned forward, as if he could touch Micah right through the screen. “Yum. Did you ask him about his breakup?”
Thatwas the story I couldn’t quite remember.
Zion’s wiry hair nearly poked me in the eye, and I shoved his head out of my face. “Uh. No.”
On my second monitor, I typed Micah’s name in the search bar. The first headline that popped up read: “Micah Sinclair Single Again?”
Competing aches twisted in my gut. The wordsinglemight as well have stood in thirty-foot-tall neon letters in my mind. The thought of an allegedly available Micah Sinclair flirting with the very available me made my nerves effervesce.
But the wordagainknocked me back to reality, reminding me that he only showed up in the news in conjunction with a brand-new, or a recently former, girlfriend. He might be available, but he probably flirted in his sleep.
Still, I couldn’t contain my grin as I studied Micah’s adorably bratty expression in my photo. Even though I’d surprised him, he looked like he’d somehow gotten one over on me instead of the other way around. Like he’d tricked me into taking his picture. And, damn, was he ever photogenic.
Zion said what I was thinking. “He sure is pretty.”
I zoomed in, and Micah’s features filled the screen. He’d been so close when I’d snapped the picture, I hadn’t gotten much below the neck. What a shame—he had a great build. Still, those eyes. Blue like sapphires. Sparkling like the sea.
“I’d kill for that skin. So smooth.” Zion’s dark skin was dotted with black spots. To me, they were just a part of him, but I knew he felt self-conscious. “It’s not fair. He looks Photoshopped.”
