Voices drift as I’m staring at the overstuffed closet, trying to figure out which items she would never wear again and wouldn’t miss if I borrowed. She had the phone on speaker, as she always did, and even though I didn’t want to eavesdrop, I could hear two voices through the closet door. I could barely make out what the other person was saying, but Sophia came through loud and clear.
“I need a huge favor,” she says in her best cajoling tone.
Nothing. No sound.
“I have this friend in town from college and I have to go on this spa trip with my stepmom, because she’s a total bitch and is making me. My friend absolutely can’t be left alone, because she’s never even been to New York before, can you believe that? And she doesn’t know anyone here! I need help. Babysit her, please. I’ll do anything you want.”
Ugh. She was making me sound like a charity case. I knew barging into her room and telling her to stop this whole mess was never going to work. My only hope was that the mysterious friend on the other line was somehow able to completely ignore all of Sophia’s charms and whatever she was willing to promise for a day of shepherding her little friend from college around the city.
“Sophia, I…” It’s definitely a male voice but it trails off and I can’t make out the response.
“Yes, it’s a huge favor, but I would owe you forever. Just take her downtown or something. You can just be on your phone all day. Just make a little small talk, show her around, and drop her back off. She wouldn’t be any trouble. She really is a doll. I think you’ll like her. Really.”
“I am not babysitting some random girl all day. What would we even talk about?” The voice is louder now, angry.
Great. Now I was a charity case and a child.
“Talk. Don’t talk. Just do it. I promise. Whatever you want.” Sophia’s voice is pleading.
“I can’t, Sophia. I really can’t. I have all of this…” I can’t make out any of the words, but his tone had shifted and was uncertain. He was caving. Great. Now I was stuck with one of the asshole boys from the night before.
It would be okay. I knew better than to argue with Sophia, but there was always a way out. I would definitely be able to get rid of him. All I would need to do was to tell him that I would tell Sophia that we had a wonderful time. He would get paid with sexual favors (from her, not me) and I would get to spend the day in the museum. Everybody would be happy.
“Be at my house as soon as you can. She’ll let you in. You’ll figure out something fabulous to do, because I have total faith in you. You are the best. Thank you,” Sophia says, her tone quickly turning from cajoling to dismissive.
“Hallie!” Her voice is triumphant.
I grab an incredibly soft sweater and a camisole from her shelf to appease her and emerge from the closet, holding out the clothes.
Sophia squeals when she sees it. “Perfect,” she says. “Now, I don’t have much time, so change as I talk.”
I throw the clothes over my head as Sophia talks through the door of her closet. I don’t bother to look in the mirror, because my plan is to rip the sweater off and get back into my own clothes as soon as she leaves.
“So, Cleo said to call the car service for you, but I have a much, much better idea. How would you feel about doing some recon for me?”
I come out, puzzled. She gives me a long look up and down, nodding in satisfaction. Recon? Who the hell did she call?
She touches my shoulder, her words coming out in spurts. “There’s this guy I knew from high school, and I’m curious about what he’s been up to.”
My eyes narrow. Sophia was hardly ever curious about what any guy gets up to.
“It’s nothing like that,” she says quickly, covering up whatever scheme she had been cooking. “Just an old friend that I find interesting. Just talk to him, find out if he’s dating anyone.”
“Sophia.” I figure that trying to get out of this tour guide/recon mission was at least worth a shot. “I’m not going to be some pity project for one of your friends. I’m sure this someone has better things to do.”
“No, he doesn’t. Just make him feel like he’s needed. Ask some questions about New York and then see what you can get out of him. You know, broken hearts, skeletons in the closet, that kind of thing. People are always spilling their guts to you in the corner at parties. I know it drives you nuts, but just go for it. For me. Pretty please?”
I was going to have to give in. “Fine. I’ll do the whole tour guide thing. But I’m not spying on some poor, unsuspecting guy.” I’m firm on this point. She would have to do her own dirty work.
She gives in, too, although the tiny pout on her face tells me that she doesn’t like it. “Fine.”
“Ok, then we have a deal.”
“I love you!” She throws her arms around me. “I’ll be back by tomorrow night, and there’s this party at Sam’s. I promise that I will ignore all of my so-called friends and we will spend the whole night dancing and you can show all of them up with your skills. We will have the best time ever.”
I give her a long look.
Undaunted, she continues. “If you need anything, there’s a bunch of cash that Cleo and William left for us in the kitchen. Use all of it. There’s more where that came from, too. And when you use the car service number on the door to the pantry, just use my name, ok?”
And just like that, in a cloud of perfume, she was gone.
This was totally great. Yep. Sophia was passing me off, and I had been given a mission to find out everything about a total stranger who was probably counting the time he had to spend with me as community service hours. I should have insisted, told Sophia that I would be more than happy to go spend the day in a museum or wandering around the park. But she had run out the door before I could say anything and now I was stuck in the middle of the most beautiful home I had ever seen and I felt even more out of place than I had the night before.
I fiddled with my phone, reading through Ben’s texts again before deciding that I couldn’t figure out anything else to say. I send off a quick one to my mom, careful to add the apostrophes before checking to make sure everything is spelled correctly.
The first night was fun. I’m off to see the city today. I’ll take pictures for you.
A few seconds later, I look back down at my phone. Have fun. Love you, baby.
I look down at my purse. Keys Sophia had given me? Check. Debit card? Check. I glance at the envelope on the kitchen counter and peek inside. I gasp. Thousands and thousands of dollars. I shove the envelope into the first drawer I see. There’s no way I’m spending even a cent of that money.
I run through my options. I could technically hide in my beautifully appointed guest room. I could stay in there and pretend like I hadn’t heard the doorbell ring. Just as I was about to go with that plan or at least get back into my own clothes, I hear the bell.
There’s another option. I’ll just tell whoever it is that we can make a bargain. I’ll tell Sophia that we had a nice New York day, and he can go off to do whatever it is that he had to do anyways. Perfect. I run over the words I want to use in my head, practicing the speech and tone of my voice. It’s a little trick that I’ve been planning to use for years. Of course, I don’t have the opportunity to use it much, because I’m usually saying the first thing that pops into my head. But this time, I’ve crafted a pretty nice little speech. Then the bell rings again.
I swing the door back and my mouth falls open.
Chris.
Of course it had to be him.
Chapter 8
CHRIS
I hang up the phone, both pissed and impressed.
She hadn’t even waited for me to say yes to her ridiculous plan of hanging out with her little pet all day. Jesus, she had only been home for one day and she was already dumping off the poor girl. I was about to call her back to tell her hell no when a thought crosses my mind.
A mysterious friend staying with Sophia?
Flip flops?
It wou
ld make sense, I think. She had been invited to that party, and she clearly wasn’t a New Yorker. It could definitely be her. Was I willing to waste my whole day on the off chance that it would be her?
I spent part of the night thinking about James Ross and the paparazzi and my fucking asshole father and what my sister needed and everything else that was crammed into my head. But flip flops had been creeping into my consciousness all night. It was the first time since I was a kid that Sophia Pearce hadn’t been the last thought in my head before I fell asleep.
I didn’t have time for playing tour guide. I had promised Marcus that I would devote all of my time and energy to slaying my audition. I should stay in and work on the script, try to figure out who this character was.
But the flash of a smile and the lingering memory of the current that had gripped me when she had touched my hand had me reaching for the door instead of my phone. It was worth the risk. I was just going to have to get some serious character development in on the car ride to Sophia’s.
I threw on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, called out good morning to my sister, ignored my father, and jumped in a cab. As the driver races across the park, I think about the old James Ross movies.
He was a tough guy, a whiskey-drinking badass who cared about nothing and no one. There was always a parade of girls, usually three or four in each film, and their names were usually something like Candy or Diamond or Jubilee. Stripper names. While the directors and producers and special effects people had done a great job with the action scenes, there had been no character development. It was the kind of movie that men loved and women only went to because they lost the coin flip.
Diana had let out a disgruntled snort when I had mentioned the audition in passing to her that morning. My little brother, the asshole action star, she said before messing with my hair and kissing me on the cheek.
So, what kind of character development was I supposed to do, exactly? My glances through the script told me that they hadn’t exactly hired the A-team to work on the dialogue. There was some potential there, other directions the script could go. I could give James Ross an edge, something that makes him tick. Maybe his heart was broken at some point. It’s about the best I can do in the fifteen minute cab ride.
Mission accomplished. Kind of.
Marcus still wouldn’t be happy.
***
I knock on the door to Sophia’s apartment again. I’m impatient. Would it be her?
I hear a voice starting to say something as the door starts to open. I catch a brief glimpse of impossibly blue eyes, and she abruptly stops talking when she sees me. I let out a sigh of relief. The gamble paid off, then.
She’s standing before me in a low-cut black sweater and a soft blue tank top that matches her eyes perfectly, and long waves fall around her face as she pushes them away. A little tremble runs through my stomach as my eyes rove over the rest of her. I have no idea how I could have ever dismissed her as a girl next door type—she’s biting her lip and all I can think about is sex.
Worst of all, she’s wearing these boots that are completely incongruous with the rest of her, these black leather high heels that make her legs look absolutely endless. A small groan escapes my lips as I think about taking the boots off. I’ve been rendered totally speechless.
She isn’t saying anything either, and there’s a look of shock on her face. She hesitates, but she does open the door wide enough for me to step inside. I want to touch her, to see if I was imagining the lightning the night before. I’m temporarily unable to say anything. I can’t breathe.
“Hey,” I say when I’m able to recover my voice. “I think I’m your date for the day.”
She recovers. “Hey. You didn’t…”
“I’m sorry…”
We speak at the same time.
“You first,” I offer.
She takes a long deep breath, and the words come out in one long rush. “Listen, I’m sorry Sophia roped you into this. I’m not some total country hick who’s going to walk straight into traffic while she’s looking up at the oh-so-pretty big buildings. I do live in a city, you know. Atlanta’s pretty big, too, and we even have things called cars.”
She lets out a short puff of air, like she’s been holding her breath. “I don’t know why she felt the need to ask you to play tour guide all afternoon, but feel free to leave. I can just tell her that we had a wonderful day and you can be out of here and on your merry way.”
What the fuck is she talking about? There is no way I am leaving this apartment without her.
“No way.” I’m as firm as she is. “In case you haven’t noticed, Sophia can be…” I hesitate for a second.
“Demanding? Impossible? A terror when she doesn’t get what she wants?” she suggests, her eyes flashing with amusement.
“Nailed it. You certainly don’t want to spend your time in New York with an angry Sophia.” I shudder in horror. “So, we will go and get breakfast and you will tell me about the top three things that you want to see in New York City and then we will get those things accomplished.”
More hesitation. I can’t tell whether it’s because she doesn’t want to be a burden or whether she doesn’t want to spend the day with me. If it’s the first, I can take care of that right away. If it’s the second, I’m just going to have to convince her that I’m worth spending the day with.
Eventually, her face relaxes, and I can tell that she’s caved. “Ok. But you have to tell me more about Hollywood. That’s the deal. If I’m going to feel terrible about taking you away from your real life, I better at least get some stories about movie sets out of it.”
“I have another part of the bargain. You have to tell me your name.”
She looks momentarily horrified. “I haven’t even introduced myself? My mother would kill me. How could I have been so rude? It’s Hallie. Hallie Caldwell. I’m from Ohio. I go to Greenview with Sophia. So that’s why I’m here. I mean, not because I go to Greenview, but because I know Sophia.”
The words come out in a rush, like she can’t stop talking. She covers her mouth and I want to brush her hand away, to tell her to keep talking. I like the way that she just says whatever is on her mind. I laugh instead and offer a hand to her. “Well, Hallie Caldwell. You ready to hit the streets?”
I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. Apparently, saying the first thing that comes to mind was rubbing off on me. An interesting choice of words. Maybe she missed the tone.
“Well, if you put it that way…” she says with laughing eyes.
I’m a little bit embarrassed, but it’s outweighed by the slight thrill I feel when she takes my arm in the elevator.
The electricity is definitely there and it’s stronger than I remembered. She doesn’t seem to notice, although she does draw her hand away.
“Since we’re hitting the streets, I think I may need some sustenance. You know, long days on the corner.”
“Oh, um.” I’m stumbling over my words, trying to forget the feel of her hand under mine. “Do you want to get some breakfast or something?”
“Yes. Breakfast would probably save my life. I’m starving. Sophia easts approximately one strawberry for breakfast and that just isn’t going to cut it. What’s good around here? Real food is preferable to raw fruits and vegetables.” She’s looking at me hopefully, and I laugh.
“Real food it is, then. There’s a place called Sarabeth’s that has good omelets and amazing bread, if that sounds good.”
“Perfect.”
Sarabeth’s is a decent walk from Sophia’s place, and I’m wracking my brain for topics of conversation that will somehow convince her that I am not a total psychopath who wants to become her pimp. When I finally come up with something, I turn to her and abruptly close my mouth when I see her face.
Her eyes are darting around and she’s gazing at the architecture and people and the craziness that is New York with a look of pure wonderment. She’s so wrapped up in taking in everything around her that I’m
able to stare at her for long moments. It had been a long time since I had seen anyone so curious, so obviously impressed and not ashamed to show it.
We had almost reached our destination when she stops and looks at me with wide eyes.
“What?” I ask, as she opens her mouth slightly.
“Ok, so I said before that I wouldn’t walk into traffic just because I got so caught up in the city?”
I nod.
“That might have been a little bit of an overstatement. There’s a good chance that I would make a thousand first-visit-to-New-York mistakes. It’s so crazy. How can all of these people…” she trails off.
“Go on,” I say.
“Well, you know. Everyone here has a purpose, or they’re pretending like they do.” She points at a man in a black business suit. “Look at him. He hasn’t looked up from the ground once and we’ve been walking right next to him for all this time. It’s like he’s managed to block out everything around him, like he doesn’t even see that he’s in the middle of this insanely exciting place. And it’s the same with almost everyone else I’ve seen. Even the guys in the middle of running the 40-yard dash at the combine have nothing on the people on this street. They look like they’re taking a break for a donut or something compared to this. I can’t ever imagine being so used to this that I wouldn’t take a couple of seconds every day to just think about it.”
She was right, of course. When was the last time I stopped for more than a second?
But it was the way she talked, rather than what she said, that made me stop me in my tracks. Words just came bubbling out of her. She spoke with grand sweeping gestures of her arms and torso, every part of her body animated. She’s looking at me dead in the eyes, inviting me into her words, into her thoughts.
When most people talk, they’re more interested in what they have to say that they barely even notice that there’s another person in the conversation. With Hallie, it’s exactly the opposite. Make your mouth work, I tell myself.
Falling into You Page 7