I cock an eyebrow. At least he’s honest.
“Thought I might change my mind about an interview once I saw your charming face in person?”
The edges of his lips twitch. “Maybe.”
“You’ve already gotten some good ones.”
“You’ve been listening?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
“Riveting.”
“Thank you.” He apparently didn’t notice—or chose to ignore—my sarcasm.
I slouch down in my seat, propping up the soles of my shoes on the booth next to him. “So what’s the verdict? Did I do it?”
He rubs the edges of the notebook paper more determinedly, giving me an amused look. “I’ve heard you’re direct.”
“It’s one of my many charms.”
“I’m collecting evidence and presenting it, not making judgments.”
“Bullshit, you totally weigh in with your opinions eventually. I’ve listened to the first season.”
“Thank you for that. And eventually, yes, I’ll bring my own opinion into it, but not right now.” He leans forward, both arms on the table. “Let me interview you. No one ever gets your side of things.”
“My side of things is just going to be a fucking disappointment to you, Ben. I still don’t remember anything.”
“Not that. I mean, yes, if you suddenly remember what happened that night, by all means, call me right away—”
“You’ll be my first call for sure,” I say dryly.
“—but you can give your side of things on so many other issues. Your relationship with Savannah, Matt, what happened at the wedding…”
“I am not putting my relationship with Savvy out there for everyone to judge again. I hated doing it the first time and I’m not doing it a second time.”
I glance over at the counter. The teenager has disappeared.
“I enjoyed your books,” Ben says.
My gaze snaps back to his face. “What?”
“Your books. The Eva Knightley books.”
I drop my feet from the booth and straighten. He looks smug again.
“How did you even?” A pit begins to form at the bottom of my stomach.
“Let’s kill, let’s kill, let’s kill—”
“My PI is very good.” Smug, smug, smug.
“Listen, those books…” I clasp my hands together, cracking my knuckles. “I can’t write under my own name. I mean, no one wants to read romance novels from the girl who allegedly bashed her best friend’s head in.”
He looks startled by that.
“And I’ve managed to keep that name a secret so far, and I would really appreciate it if you—”
“Relax, Lucy, I’m not going to tell anyone.” He smiles. Smugly.
I hesitate. “If I give you an interview?”
“What? No. Jesus, Lucy, I’m not blackmailing you. I really did like the books.”
“You read romance novels?”
“Well, no, these were my first, but maybe I should read more, because they were very exciting. I liked the one with the couple that pretended to be married best.”
“Why?”
“Apparently I enjoy a good fake-marriage trope. This is something I’ve just discovered about myself recently.”
I barely resist the urge to laugh, but my lips twitch. Fuck. “No, why did you read my books?”
“I was interested. And I did consider putting it on the podcast, honestly. Read some passages. But I can’t really see how it’s relevant. Paige—my assistant—said that putting it on there would just be a dick move, and I have to agree.”
“I like your assistant.”
“She’s smarter than me.”
“Ma’am?” The teenage boy at the counter has reappeared, and he’s talking to me, holding a large plastic bag full of takeout containers. I know that everyone calls women ma’am here, no matter their age, but it still makes my eye twitch. I’ve been in Los Angeles too long.
I start to slide out of the booth.
“Just one question.” Ben reaches forward like he’s going to touch me. He doesn’t. He presses both palms flat to the table. “Off the record.”
“You can ask, but I may not answer.”
“How well did you know Colin Dunn?”
I sigh. Colin Fucking Dunn.
“You think Savvy’s boyfriend did it. How original. Why didn’t anyone else think of that?” I deadpan.