Page 36 of My Charming Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 1)
John crooked out his elbow and stared at a nonexistent watch on his wrist, then at me. “You better get going. There is nowhere in this city you can get to in thirty minutes.”
“It’s one mile away at an agency for court translators.”
“Like I said, there is nowhere in this city you can get to in thirty minutes.”
“I’m on my way. I just need socks and shoes.”
“No, go barefoot. That’s how all the translators dress here,” he said as he headed to the door. He stopped to glance back approvingly at my feet as I tugged on socks. “By the way, excellent answer to number one. Hot girl dares rock.”
“That they do, man. That they do.”
John was right about traffic, so I did that thing that Los Angelenos rarely do. I put one foot in front of the other and I walked. Along the way, I called James and gave him what little details I’d been able to glean so far.
“Decent start,” he said begrudgingly after my report. “Now I need more. Oh, and I have a few more hours to throw your way on the other project we’ve been working on. Things are gearing up on that one, and now we just need to get the names in place,” he said, and then shared more details.
“Great. I’m on it,” I said as I stopped at a light, waiting for traffic. “Maybe I can come on board full-time when the school year is up,” I suggested, and hoped to hell he didn’t hear the twinge of desperation I felt.
He laughed. “We’ll see, kid. You need to get me more info for my client from the field before I can even think about that request.”
“I will,” I said, feeling like the dog chasing the rabbit at the races. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever catch up. I had little tempting teasers of opportunities all around me. But none were paying off yet.
“Oh, one more thing,” James said before hanging up.
“Yes?”
“For the little project I just told you about. You’re going to need a date. Think you can convince anyone to go with you?”
I gritted my teeth. James had such a fine way with words.
Then he explained why, and I instantly knew there was only one person I wanted to be my date. How to convince her would take some finesse, though, especially since she’d taken off with barely a goodbye last night.
The no-nonsense woman with her brown hair pulled tightly in a bun peered at me over gold-rimmed glasses. Her office was a testament to bare-bones decorating. There was a pencil holder on her wooden desk, a black-framed photo of her degree on the brown plywood walls, and a beige carpet. She tapped my résumé once more. “Impressive coursework. Impressive language skills. Excellent fluency. There’s only one problem.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have your degree.”
“But I will in two months,” I said, doing my best to keep the worry out of my tone. We were seated in her office at the employment agency that handled court translators.
“You should return then, Mr. Harrigan,” she said, and slid my résumé across the desk back to me.
“Thank you very much,” I said, flashing her my best I appreciate your time smile.
As I hit the sidewalk outside her office, I crumpled up the résumé and tossed it into the nearest trash can. In two months, I’d be back in England unless I found an employer who’d sponsor me to stay.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration rooting deeper in my chest.
I grabbed my phone and looked at the time. I had a class in an hour. Jess had a class this morning, too—advanced bio, she’d told me. Sighing heavily, I gave in once again. I searched for the location of the advanced biology class at the University of Los Angeles, and hoped to hell she wouldn’t see me tailing her.
Especially since I’d need to ask her on a date for this weekend.
16
Jess
I could understand why detectives might have big butts. Stakeouts involved a lot of sitting. A lot of waiting. A lot of time to expand one’s rear. That’s why I stood instead, leaning back against the brick facade next to the Top-It-Yourself Yogurt Gallery across from the pair of potential dress boutiques.
I’d been here for more than an hour, and had already finished my chemistry work, as well as several more pages in my French translations. My camera strap was looped over my arm, and the camera itself was tucked neatly underneath my light jacket. The warm weather didn’t call for a jacket, but I needed it to hide the obviousness of a camera with a lens on it. I had yet to spot the bride or any of her bridesmaids. All I’d seen was a large orange tomcat sunbathing in the window of a bauble-and-bead costume jewelry shop across the tree-lined street. I was going to have to call it a day soon, and figure the tip my mom had picked up had been a flimsy one, through no fault of her own.
