“Just friends?” He frowns, his grip on my hand growing tighter and tighter until he’s squeezing me so hard there’s a red mark from his fingers. “Andi, I—”
I hold my breath and wait for whatever he’s about to say, whatever is so difficult he’s having a hard time getting it out, but the words never come.
Behind me comes the honk of a horn, and I turn to find a sleek black Porsche pulling up to the curb. Behind the wheel is a slim blonde; she’s gorgeous in an ice queen sort of way. She’s dressed in an outfit that I’m sure was more expensive than what I pay in a month’s rent, and she looks pissed.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, backing away, confused. “Is that your…ride?”
“Andi, no,” he says, seeing the look on my face. “It’s nothing like that. She’s the agent I’m hoping to sign with, and she’s ticked because we’re late going to the airport. It’s not your fault though, it’s mine. I called her last minute for a ride so I could send Boxer with you.”
“She’s going with you to Minnesota?”
“We have a meeting this afternoon with my coach. She’ll fly back out afterward,” he says. “And if you’re wondering, no—there is nothing, has never been anything, and will never be anything between her and me.”
“Did I look that desperate?”
“Not desperate,” he says with a flustered look over my shoulder. “But I didn’t want you to wonder, or worry, because—”
“Friends with benefits,” I finish. “I get it, and I appreciate it. Look, have a great flight and enjoy your time. I hope you get whatever it is you want the most out of all this.”
“The most?”
“Minnesota, LA, the Stars, the Lightning, anything else that I don’t understand in your little hockey world. I hope it all works out for you.”
“My little hockey world,” he repeats with a ghosted smile. “I’ll miss you. Call me sometime.”
He leans in, brushes a kiss against my cheek, and then he’s gone.
I watch as he climbs into the car. His potential agent pulls away from the curb with tires squealing. She looks pissed at me, pissed at him, pissed at the world. Yikes. That woman is wound tight enough to pop a vertebra when she sneezes.
“Hey, you ready to go, Andi?” Boxer calls from the car. “Pierce told me to bring you to your car, but there’s a problem: I don’t know where he put your car.”
Big, lovable Boxer, I think as I make my way to the car and give him directions. As we take off into the horrible traffic, I can’t help but watch the cars around me and think that of all people in Los Angeles, Ryan Pierce has chosen me to miss.
We might never be able to make things work in any sort of permanent way, but at least for now, I can enjoy the little moments we have together.
CHAPTER 31
Andi
My phone rings just before we turn onto the highway that’ll lead us to Hollywood Boulevard, Phil, and my car. I look down, my heart racing with all sorts of insane thoughts going through my head.
In the split second before I glance at the screen, I wonder if it’s Ryan calling to tell me he changed his mind and wants to stay here for just a little while longer. Friends, I mutter to myself. We’re friends.
“Friends?” Boxer looks over. “We’re friends?”
“Sure,” I tell Boxer as I answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Hello,” Boxer says.
The man on the other end of the phone clears his throat. “Hello, may I speak to Andi?”
“This is Andi,” I say, and Boxer looks over, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Whom am I speaking with?”
“This is Nick Bennett,” he says. “I’m a friend of the Pierce family.”
“Oh,” I say. “Are you looking for Ryan? He’s not here.”
He laughs, a soft sound. “Ryan didn’t tell you I’d be calling?”
“Um…”
“Let me start this over,” Nick says. “I’m an agent for VWA, and I represent stars such as Andrew Flemming, Adam Thomson, Lila Montenapoleone, and—”
“I know who you are,” I say stiffly. I’d recognized the name when he’d first said it, but for some reason, the dots didn’t connect. “I sent you headshots about three years ago.”
“Yes, I remember,” he says. “You were young. Twenty?”
“Good memory,” I say, trying to remain calm. Nick Bennett is the best of the best—he’s gotten at least three comics their own shows in the last year alone. Signing with Nick is like receiving Willy Wonka’s golden ticket in the world of comedy. “I’m older now, more experienced.”
Just as I’m about to smack my head into the car-seat in front of me for sounding so stupid, he laughs again. “I’ve been following your career closely, and it seems like you’ve built up a solid resume.”
“I’ve tried,” I say. “Sorry, did you mention Ryan asking you to call? You really don’t have to—”
“No, you’ve misunderstood,” Nick interrupts. “Ryan didn’t tell me to call. I asked for your information when I realized y’all were dating.”
“Oh, well, we’re not dating.”
“Right,” he says, sounding unconvinced. “Well, Lawrence is one of my closest friends. I was at his bachelor party the other night, not realizing we’d kick the whole thing off with a comedy show.”
“You and me both,” I say. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Lucky me, it was the best show I’ve seen all month.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I hounded Ryan all show to get your number. He finally broke down after asking you if it’d be okay.”
“Are you lying?”
“Sorry?”
“He didn’t put you up to this, did he? You’re not doing him any favors by calling me?”
“No, absolutely not. Ryan seemed hesitant to share your info, if anything.”
“Oh.”
“Now that we’ve cleared up that matter, I have to say, Andi, I loved your stuff.” He moves the conversation along, for which I am grateful. “I’m calling because I may have an opportunity for you. How soon can you get to Studio City?”
“An hour?”
“I’ll see you then. Do you need the address to VWA headquarters?”
“I’m not…” I look in the mirror at my sex hair, about to tell him I’m not ready for a meeting, not ready for my career to get a break, not ready for the pressure.
Then I realize…I’ll never be ready.
“Problem?”
This might be my only chance in the world to get a meeting with Nick Bennett. I straighten my shoulders, tilt my chin a little bit to the sky, and force a smile on my face. “Absolutely not. See you soon.”
No sooner do I disconnect than my phone beeps with a text. It’s from Ryan.
Ryan: I forgot to tell you—I hope you don’t mind that I gave your phone number to Nick Bennett. He’s been a pain in my ass about it ever since he heard you at the show. If you don’t want him to call you, let me know. I’ll take care of it.
Me: I just got off the phone with him.
Ryan: And?
Me: Are you sure you didn’t force him to call me? If you’re lying, I’ll find out and hunt you down.
Ryan: I promise. He asked me.
Me: Pinky swear?
Ryan: On my life.
Me: Well, I’m on my way to see him now.
Ryan: Lucky bastard. If he hits on you, I’m going to be upset.
Me: Jealous?
Ryan: I wouldn’t say jealous.
Me: What would you say?
Ryan: Possessive.
Me: Same thing.
Ryan: I don’t care what you call it, the fact is, I want to see you again. Can I book your tickets for the wedding?
Me: You don’t have to pay. I’ll book them. Payment for the car, or the meeting with Nick.
Ryan: Absolutely not. I’ll send you the confirmation information in a few minutes. Two days around the wedding sound good? I know you’ll have to be back for work.