“About five years,” he says and, at my look, clarifies, “She moved to Korea after I finished my military service. But I’ve known her since she was about fourteen.”
“Wow.”
He nods. “Her mother was my parents’ housekeeper. She was at our house a lot.”
“She is around my and Sunny’s age, then?”
“They’re close.” He pauses, chewing on the next bit of information. “Yael modeled for a bit when she and Sunny were eighteen and nineteen, but she didn’t enjoy it. She’s organized and bossy but shy.” Drawing a series of concentric circles around the border of a Trader Joe’s mailer, he says, “I guess that’s a better fit behind the scenes than in front of a camera.”
“Does she know that I know you from before?”
He nods.
My next question feels sticky in my throat, but I have to ask it. “Have you two ever…”
He meets my eyes, and when understanding hits, Alec lets out a short, easy laugh. “No. It hasn’t ever been like that with us.” Smiling, he adds, “Yael is a lesbian.”
The kettle whistles and I turn to get it, pouring the water carefully over the ground coffee and watching it percolate into the carafe. The quiet feels full, like he’s swallowing his next words down.
“This looks very fancy,” he says.
“It is. Be impressed and grateful.”
Alec laughs. “Oh, I am.” When I hand him a steaming mug he takes it but then sets it down on the counter and reaches for me, pulling me between his legs. “Thank you, Georgia Ross, impressive barista.”
“You’re welcome.” I kiss him, fighting the urge to sink further into the contact. “How do you take it?”
Alec’s hand comes up under my T-shirt. “However you’d like it.”
I lightly flick his forehead. “I mean your coffee.”
“Cream, sugar. The more it tastes like ice cream, the better.”
I groan, turning to the fridge. “This coffee is wasted on you.”
“It’s not,” he protests, laughing as he takes the offered cream and tilts it generously over his mug, “I promise to enjoy it.”
“If you don’t have your car, how are you getting to your hotel?”
Alec lifts his arm. “Pickup in about ten.”
“Yael?”
He nods.
“And then busy all day?”
He nods again. “You should come to the cast signing.”
“I don’t watch the show,” I say, quickly adding, “Yet! I promise to start. But I’d feel bad taking a ticket from a fan.”
For some reason, this makes him laugh. “You wouldn’t need a ticket, Gigi. I’m not suggesting you go stand in line for an autograph. You’d come as my guest. Bring Eden.”
I cover his mouth. “Careful what you offer. She kept it surprisingly bottled up last night. If you invite her today, she might show up wearing a shirt with your face on it. Or even worse: a shirt with your torso on it.”
“It’s all fine,” he says, “as long as she’s aware the dimples are taken.”
I cup his face, kissing each cheek. “Gigi’s bottom lip approves.”
Eleven
I get a brief text from an unknown number about an hour after Alec leaves and identify Yael from the brevity: Meet at the side entrance to the Ace Hotel off Blackstone at one sharp. Text this number when you arrive.
With this information in hand, I dance my way into Eden’s room, where she’s lying on her back in bed, her laptop balanced on her knee. I hear Alec’s voice through the tinny speakers, and it’s shockingly surreal.
“What are you watching?”
“West Midlands.” She glances briefly at me and smirks. “Your boy’s just about to get in a car accident.”
I scoot over beside her. “Will this traumatize me?”
“The crash?” She glances at me. “No, but the kissing will.”
“Oh.” I wave this off. “I watched all those gifs in the Lyft home.”
“I knew it, you little shit.”
I steal one of her pillows and tuck it under my head. “Okay,” I relent. “Catch me up.”
“You want to watch it now?”
“Well,” I say, and grin over at her, “we’re going to a cast signing today as Alec’s guests, so I should know at least a little about the rest of this show.”
She stares at me, unblinking. “What.”
“It’s at the Ace Hotel. Oh,” I say, realizing, “you need to call in sick to work. Alec’s cyborg assistant sent me directions to get in the side door.” I point to my chest. “I’m Hollywood connected now, you know.”