One Hit Wonderful (7 page)

Lily blinked. “Huh?”

“Charles has the VW Bug, right? He’s the one who drove when you came by to see the apartment, so I just assumed.”

“Yeah, the Bug is his,” she said, confused.

“So what kind of a car do you drive?”

“Why?” she asked, still confused.

She couldn’t say why, but she got the impression he wanted to roll his eyes.

“You’re not going to get a lot of furniture in the Bug, so I just wondered if you drove a truck or something. For moving your furniture.”

“Ohhhh.” She gritted her teeth, feeling inane. “I drive a Civic, actually. Not much more room than the Bug. We’re going to rent a truck.”

“Oh. That’s good.” He jingled the change in his pocket and suddenly looked as uncomfortable as she felt. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday then.”

“You’ll be there?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“I live there,” he reminded her, and she gritted her teeth again.

“I meant to ask if you’d be there during the day. I assumed you’d have to work or something.”

“I pretty much make my own hours,” he told her. “I’ll be around all day.”

“Oh. Okay then, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Wednesday,” he repeated, and with a wink turned to the door.

She held on to her stiff smile until he’d walked out the door. As soon as he was out of sight, her knees went limp as noodles and she let herself drop to a crouch behind the reception desk, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “I am such a dork.”

“Ms. Michaels?”

She looked up to find Jason hovering over her, looking poised to call for an ambulance. “Hi, Jason.”

“You all right, Ms. Michaels?”

“I’m fine, Jason.” She gave him a sickly smile. “I’m just contemplating my life.”

“Oh.” Jason looked as though he didn’t quite know what to do with that information and shifted uncomfortably. “Is there anything I can do?”

She sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “No, but thanks. I’m going to work in the office for a while. Call me if you need help with the debs.”

“Okay,” he said, looking uncertain, and she escaped into the office before he could ask any more questions.

Lily sat down at the desk with the serious intention of finishing the schedule. But the lines kept blurring, and when she realized she’d scheduled the housekeeping supervisor for a shift in the kitchen, she gave up and simply laid her head on the desk.

When the phone rang, she dragged the receiver over. “Pavillion Hotel, Lily speaking.”

“Lil, hi!” Bridget’s voice rang out, bright and cheerful.

Lily sighed with relief—a distraction! “Hi, honey, how’s Hawaii?”

“Oh God, Lil, it’s just amazing. The weather is gorgeous, the beaches are gorgeous, the men are gorgeous, the hotel is—”

“Gorgeous,” Lily finished dryly, and despite her own irritation found herself smiling at the enthusiasm in her friend’s voice.

“So gorgeous,” Bridget gushed. “I’m calling you from my balcony, which has a Jacuzzi, by the way. And the spa here! I think the Pavillion’s is actually better, but this one gets extra points because it’s in Hawaii.”

“Can’t beat that,” Lily agreed. She sat up and leaned back in the chair. “So what’s up?”

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to say hi, find out how the apartment hunting is going. Charles said that place in the flier was pretty cool?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Lily told her. “Beautiful, lots of light, great location.”

“That’s great! Did you sign a lease?”

“Uh, yeah. Today, actually.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay, big fat liar voice.”

Lily blinked. “Huh?”

“Your voice is doing that thing, that thing you do when you lie.”

That was the trouble with best friends, they could always see right through the bullshit. Lily kicked the desk. “Is not,” she muttered.

“Oh, it so is,” Bridget said. “What’s wrong with the apartment?”

Lily sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with the apartment.”

“Lily Ann…” Bridget began, and Lily had to laugh at the use of her middle name.

“No really, the apartment’s perfect. Hardwood floors, built-in bookshelves, a garden tub.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Bridget agreed. “Okay, so if it isn’t the apartment, what is it?”

“Nothing,” Lily insisted then blinked when her friend made a buzzing noise in her ear.

“So sorry, Big Fat Liar, that was the wrong answer. Try again!”

“Agh! I hate when you do the game-show-buzzer noise!”

“That’s because you have no appreciation for the subtle genius that is the game show. Quit lying and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Jeez.” She gave the desk another kick then frowned at the new scuff on her shoe. “Dammit.”

“Lily, you better tell me what’s going on or I’m calling Charles to come over there—”

“Oh Christ, fine,” Lily hissed, and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “It’s the landlord.”

“The landlord?”

“Yeah.”

“What about the landlord?” Bridget’s voice had gone from threatening to confused. “What, did he make a pass or something?”

“No,” Lily said. Then mumbled, “I wish.”

She should’ve known better.

“What did you say?”

She tried to brazen it out. “Nothing.”

“Big Fat—”

“Liar, I know.” Lily sighed. “I said no, he didn’t make a pass. I wish.”

“Ooh, you like this guy. Is he cute?”

Even though she knew the shrug couldn’t be seen over the phone, she did it anyway. It made her feel convincingly nonchalant. “He’s all right, I guess.”

“Big Fat—”

“Jesus, all right! He’s gorgeous and sexy, and I want to trip him and beat him to the ground and just bite him. All over. Satisfied?”

Bridget’s giggle came over the line loud and clear. “Not as much as you’re going to be, apparently. Is he into you?”

“I have no idea. You know how bad I am at judging that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, you suck at that.”

“Thank you, oh supportive best friend.”

Bridget ignored the sarcasm. “What do you know about him?”

“I know he’s some kind of a musician, and he’s rude and scruffy and unorganized.”

Used to Lily’s somewhat exacting standards when it came to manners and organization, Bridget skipped over the assessment of Nate’s personality. “What kind of a musician, like a rock star?”

“No, nothing like that. He writes scores for movies and television, that kind of thing.”

“Is he any good at it?”

“How the hell would I know?” Lily asked, doodling absently on the margins of the schedule. “I didn’t ask him to audition before I signed the lease.”

Bridget ignored the sarcasm. “What does he look like?”

“Um…brown hair, green eyes. Tall. Scruffy. Nice smile.”

“Gee, your descriptive powers are painting such a picture.”

“There were dimples too. Did I mention the dimples?”

“Fine, I’ll just get the juice from Charles, I’m sure he noticed the guy’s butt.”

“No doubt,” Lily muttered.

“What about personality? Aside from rude and unorganized.”

“He’s…funny,” she realized. “Sort of sweet. He’s got a big goofball dog that he’s obviously madly in love with.”

“Ew.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not like that, sicko. He looks like he keeps in pretty good shape.”

“Did you notice his arms?”

“I think he’s a runner. He was hardly out of breath at all after chasing down the dog.”

“You noticed his arms! Good biceps?”

“Well…” she hedged.

“Lily Ann Michaels.”

Lily sighed. “They were spectacular.”

“Excellent,” Bridget purred, and Lily snapped herself out of the biceps haze.

“What are you talking about?”

“What? I’m saying it’s great you have a crush.”

“I do not have a crush.”

“Oh please,” Bridget scoffed. “You just sighed over his biceps.”

“I always sigh over biceps,” Lily reminded her. “It’s my thing. Just like hairy chests are your thing.”

“Ugh, I’m so over that,” Bridget muttered. “After Max, I never want to see another hairy chest again.”

“Max had a hairy chest?”

“Like sasquatch.”

“Yick.”

“To each her own. Anyway, the point is you should go for this guy.”

“Bridget, have we not learned our lesson about getting romantically involved with the landlord?”

“Okay, that’s a good point,” Bridget conceded. “But you signed a lease, right?”

“Yes, but I still think it’s a bad idea. If it didn’t work out, then I’d still have to see him every day. I live over his studio, for God’s sake, and how awkward would that be?”

Bridget sighed. “I suppose you’re right. What a bummer.”

“It’s not a bummer,” Lily countered. “I get a beautiful apartment in a wonderful neighborhood, a handsome man to look at and a dog that maybe I’ll get to play with sometimes. You know how much I miss having a dog.”

“That would only be a bonus to you.”

“You’re a cat person, how would you understand?” Lily laughed at Bridget’s snort. “Trust me, it’s better all around if Nate MacIntyre and I stay just friends.”

“Wait, who?”

“Nate MacIntyre. My new landlord.”

“Oh my
God
!”

Lily winced and yanked the phone away from her ringing ear. “Bridge, my eardrums!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. But oh my God!”

“Oh my God, what?” Lily asked, putting the phone on speaker and rubbing her ear. It was still ringing.

“Do you know who that is?”

“Who?”

“Nate MacIntyre!”

“He’s my new landlord,” Lily repeated, exasperated. “Have you been getting too close to the volcanoes? It’s not good to breathe too much of that sulfuric air, you know.”

“Ha freakin’ ha,” Bridget said. “I mean, do you know who Nate MacIntyre is?”

Lily dropped her head back to the desk in despair. “Bridget, I’ve had a really rough week.”

“He’s the lead singer of Boys Will Be Boys!”

“What,” Lily mumbled into her desk blotter, “is Boys Will Be Boys?”

“You have to remember Boys Will Be Boys. They were the boy band!”

“Boy band?” Lily repeated, frowning as something tickled the edge of her memory.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you don’t remember. I think I was in the eighth grade when they had their one big hit, and they were everywhere! All over the music channels, they had a huge tour, they were on all the talk shows.”

“Wait,” Lily said, and sat up. “Did they used to all dress alike in those black leather pants and white pirate shirts? And was their big hit song something to do with rockets?”

“‘Launched by Love’,” Bridget giggled. “I think the lyric went something like ‘Baby light my fuse, send my rocket to the stars, we’ll shake those blues, and make love on Mars. We’ll be launched by love.’”

“High art,” Lily grinned.

“Yeah well, I was thirteen. It wasn’t like I was looking for Shakespeare or something. Besides, they were so cute!”

“I remember,” Lily said, and she did. Now that Bridget had jogged her memory, she recalled the pre-teen craze that had surrounded the band. With five adorable fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds shaking their leather-clad butts onstage and video, they’d pretty much been guaranteed a gaggle of screaming girls wherever they went.

“I can’t believe Nate is that Nate MacIntyre.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him!”

“Well, it’s not like he was wearing leather pants when I met him,” Lily said dryly. “And he didn’t introduce himself as Nate MacIntyre, former boy band singer.”

“Still. And don’t tell me you weren’t a fan. Everyone was a fan back then.”

“I had their poster on my wall,” Lily admitted, “along with half my eighth grade class. But he doesn’t much look like a skinny teenager anymore.”

“Oh, I know. He was featured on one of those famous people revisited programs on one of the music channels. You know, where they visit a musician or actor years after their fame fades to see what they’re doing now?”

“I hate those shows,” Lily said with a grimace.

“I know,” Bridget said. “I tried to get you to watch it with me because I’d heard he was going to be featured, but you refused.”

“Well, it always seems so humiliating. They take a child star or burned-out musician and make them talk about their fall from grace. It’s awful.”

“Well, if you’d watched it, you’d have known that he writes music for television and movies now and lives in the area. And whew, did he grow up fine!”