Faith Sullivan - Meant for Me

“Welcome to Hollywood, Ivy,” Will says with a smirk. “Where your looks are the biggest commodity you possess. I think you wound that whole elevator up the minute you stepped inside. You’re going to have this town eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Will, stop making it sound like I’m sexual catnip,” I protest, following him toward the restaurant.

“Ivy, baby. I’m not making it up. You’re a force to be reckoned with. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or what, but you’re emitting these vibes that are fucking irresistible. You’re going to be giving every guy within a ten-foot radius a painful case of blue balls.” He dodges as I try to smack him, laughing wholeheartedly at how flustered I am.

“Name, please.” The hostess gives us the once-over, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. She long-limbed and glowing like she just stepped out of the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog.

I feel so self-conscious. Will has to be playing another one of his mind games. There’s no way anyone’s looking at me when there are so many beautiful people walking around this city. For practically all of my life, I’ve been invisible to Will. He’s just trying to butter me up so he can manipulate me in front of our potential bosses. He wants to show that he’s the one in control by dominating me in front of them. Like I’m nothing more than a living sex toy bent on his amusement. Think again, Will. This girl’s too smart for that.

“Carter. Will Carter.” He slips the hostess one of his cards along with a twenty. “We don’t have a reservation, but I was hoping you could squeeze us in.”

I glare up at Will, but like a snake charmer, he doesn’t break eye contact with his prey. I’m fuming. If this is such an important meeting, why is he being so casual about it? He better get his shit together. I can’t work with someone who’s not going to take this as seriously as I am. There’s too much at stake.

“Just two?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“Nah, more like five,” Will remarks nonchalantly, pushing his luck.

“Well, that might be more than I can handle,” she pouts, biting the tip of her pen. “Unless you’re willing to make it up to me.”

“How about tonight?” Will doesn’t even try to contain the grin spreading across his face. He’s well versed in this kind of dance. He made the opening move, but now he’s letting her take the lead. I watch in utter amazement at how quickly it all unfolds. “Seven o’clock?” Will questions, opening the calendar app on his phone. Give me a break. He can make the effort when it comes to a complete stranger, but he couldn’t use his perfectly manicured finger to tap in the arrival time of my flight? It figures. Different city, same old Will.

“Let’s say more like eight. I have a yoga class after work that I don’t want to miss.” Ugh, she wants to limber up before spending the night with him. He clearly gets what her saucy implication implies because his smile widens, showing teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial. Too bad she didn’t see him as a thirteen-year-old with neon-colored elastic bands strung through his braces. I sure did.

“Done,” Will proclaims as a whoosh issues from his phone. “Be sure to text me your address…” he pauses, like he’s done this a million times.

“Becky,” she replies, winking at him before guiding us to a table in a secluded alcove, sunlight streaming through the window.

These random hookups come way too easily for him. They always have. He never has to work for it. Women just fall in his lap.

Becky lightly drapes her hand across Will’s shoulders as he takes a seat. “Enjoy your meal,” she whispers in his ear before heading back to her station.

“You are so smooth, it’s sickening.” I pretend to gag as I look over the menu.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He tugs on the lapel of his jacket, straightening out the crease where she touched him.

“Yeah, but why couldn’t you be like a normal person and make a reservation?” I can’t help but ask as I try to figure out the difference between the vegetarian and vegan options.

“Because it’s a lot more fun to live life on the edge.” His eyes are sparkling as I look up to see if he’s teasing me.

“And a lot more expensive,” I counter. “You’re already twenty bucks in the hole and you haven’t even taken her out yet.”

“Who said I was taking her out?” he fires back, making me blush.

“You’re too much,” I mutter as he laughs at my discomfort.

“Will, there you are! What are you doing hiding way back here? Or should I say who are you hiding? OMG, Davey! It’s Sookie Stackhouse!” A stylishly dressed man with a silk scarf hanging around his neck saunters over to our table. He appears to be in his late thirties although his skin is in fantastic shape. His face is as smooth as porcelain, so he could be older than he looks. I don’t think he’s had any work done, but his dermatologist is to be commended.

Next to him, holding his hand is a robust man probably in his mid-fifties. He’s the first overweight person I’ve seen in L.A., and there’s no hiding his receding hairline. The two of them seem like a mismatched pair, but by the way they’re beaming at each other, it’s obvious they’re in love.

“Warren, behave,” Will warns, rising to shake hands. “This is Miss Ivy Thompson, the muse who sparks my colorful imagination.”

“Ignore him, Ivy. My husband has a vampire fetish that’s pretty ingrained.” The older one, who I assume is Dave, takes my hand and kisses it. “It’s lovely to meet such a fine young lady.”

“No wonder you weren’t answering my texts, Will,” Warren scolds, sitting primly beside him. “I can see why you were distracted.”

“What texts?” Will appears puzzled. Not a good sign.

“The ones about the investor meeting us here. She’s coming directly from the airport,” Dave responds like he’s used to answering questions addressed to his husband.

“What’s her name?” I ask Dave in order to prevent Will from shutting me out of the conversation.

“See, that’s the thing. We don’t know. She wanted to keep things hush hush in case there’s a lawsuit pending. She works for a venture capitalist in New York. Her boss got wind of the project and had her contact us anonymously. It’s an unorthodox approach, but we investigated the firm and it’s legit. If they’re willing to pony up a few million dollars, we don’t care if they want to communicate with a secret decoder ring. Having a financial cushion is imperative with the risks associated with this project. But I think we’re going to bite the bullet and produce this film because what you’ve come up with so far is phenomenal.” Dave pats my shoulder before shaking out his napkin and placing it on his lap.

“You know that I wrote it?” I stare at him in amazement.

“Will’s not that smart,” Warren deadpans.

“Hey!” Will interjects.

“Honey, you are incredibly nice to look at, but you can’t even compose a coherent email much less an entire script. You can’t blind us with your charms, darling. You’re not that good of an actor.” Warren rests his chin in his hand to gaze adoringly at Will.

Will’s face turns scarlet. He’s mad, sure. But I know how he really is. He might be humoring Warren and Dave when it comes to advancing his career, but there’s no way in hell that he enjoys having a grown man ogle him in public. Will hates being considered a pretty boy. He must get hit on by guys all the time out here—but to have me witness it is another story. He must be ready to spit nails.

Warren’s iPhone chimes on the table and Dave picks it up, breaking the tension.

“She’s here,” Dave remarks. “Damn, I so wanted to order a soy latte before she arrived. I hate to talk business before my third cup of the day.”

“I’ll make sure you get it, Davey. Just hang in there a little longer,” Warren murmurs, patting Dave’s hand.

“Yeah, Davey. Hang in there. I assure you that what I have to say won’t take long.”

My jaw hits the floor when I recognize the voice of the person standing behind me. I make a move to turn around, but familiar hands land on my shoulders, anchoring me in place.

For the first time in his life, Will looks scared.

“You must be…” Dave begins.

“Lauren Price from LPR and Associates.”

At the mention of her name, Warren gasps, instantly making the connection, and I cringe as she digs her red fingernails into my jacket.

I should’ve known she’d be out for blood.

Eric

It’s mid-afternoon and still no word from Ivy.

I’ve left so many messages with the front desk that the receptionist told me to stop calling. I flooded Will’s inbox with emails. I tried Ivy’s cell number to check if her new phone was up and running, but it’s not. I’m at my wit’s end. Something’s up. I can feel it.

To take my mind off things, I decided to leave Ben in charge of the last two hayrides and asked my dad to ring up any purchases before locking up for the night. It’s better if I just go home. I’m only driving everyone nuts at the garden center, yelling at kids for getting underfoot and smashing a row of pumpkins after mistakenly throwing the tractor in reverse. I’m running on empty after what turned out to be a very long night. I couldn’t fall sleep, not without Ivy beside me. I’m used to having her pressed up against me. A balled-up pillow just doesn’t cut it.

Shep whines at my feet, and I give him a quick scratch behind the ears. He’s the only one who can put up with me when I get like this. He’s seen me at my worst, so this little episode is nothing for him. Ivy’s alive. She’s fine. I just have to keep telling myself that and calm the fuck down.