Page 51 of Faking It
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he chuckles and then falls silent in a way that has me—someone so very used to watching people—notice.
“It is.” We head into the lavish hotel where the event happened last night. There will be another one tonight followed by what Robert deemed phase two tomorrow: a press junket with radio stations in the morning.
“It’s going well though? It seems your crowds are receiving the platform well.”
“They are.” I nod to the concierge I spoke to last night about putting Harlow’s room on my card. “I sent you the numbers for phase one. We’ve had a fifteen percent hike in preregistrations and a twenty percent increase in site traffic since our first event in LA.”
“Tomorrow will begin phase two.”
“Interviews with the media and more presentations,” I say, repeating his own advertising plan back to him as if he didn’t already know it, but more so that he knows I know it. So that he sees I’m taking this all seriously. As we cross the lobby, I glance around as if I’m going to see Harlow, but she’s nowhere in sight as we head to the hotel bar.
“That will help get the buzz going, then we’ll move onto the whirlwind of New York and network television before the official launch online.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“The crowds really seem to love Harlow,” he says as we enter the bar, already crowded with people who look like they are grabbing a drink before they head out to enjoy the resort’s extravagant pool area.
“So it seems,” I murmur, still trying to figure out what this fishing expedition is about.
“And how are you with that?”
“With what? People loving her?”
“Mm-hmm. It must be hard for a man like you to share the spotlight when you’re used to being the one it shines on.”
I angle my head and consider his comment. “Not hard, no. She’s going to shine whether she’s in the spotlight or not. She’s just that kind of person.”
“Hmm.”
Robert falls quiet and fuck if his silence isn’t an indicator that something is wrong. So I wait him out. You never show your cards unless you have to.
He sighs. We get our drinks and still he’s silent. Then he stares at me long and hard. “You know, sometimes travelling together can test a relationship.”
I take my time with my nod. “Definitely.”
“It makes you fight when normally you wouldn’t. Teaches you what each other’s pet peeves are and how to use them to irritate the other. Allows you to have great make-up sex.”
I smile tightly. “What are you getting at, mate?”
He leans back in his chair and purses his lips. “I’m just trying to make sense of something I saw today.”
“Okay . . .”
“I’m trying to figure out if I’m being played by you, if you’re who you purport yourself to be . . . or if you’re just a down right sleazy son of a bitch.”
With our eyes locked on one another, I take my time lifting my bottle of beer to my lips and then setting it back down before I speak. I need a minute to try and figure out what his angle is. “I’m assuming you’re going to fill me in on what you’re talking about.”
“When I was checking into the hotel earlier before my first meeting, there was a mix-up with my reservation. Since we’re holding the event here, I used the business account and lo and behold, they told me I’d already checked into my room. That one Harlow Nicks had taken it last night.”
“That’s a mix up. I called this morning to put my card on it and—”
“So she stayed in the hotel and you stayed in the coach? The very coach that I was walking out to this morning to discuss some things with you when a very gorgeous woman just happened to be leaving it? One, I might add, that wasn’t Harlow.”
“Robert—”
“No.” He holds his hand up to cut me off and prevent me from explaining. “Don’t dig the hole, Zane. Give me the respect I deserve by not giving me some bullshit excuse.”
My temper roils beneath the surface. “It’s not what you think,” I say, thinking of the knock I got on the door this morning from one of the bar bunnies from last night.
