Chapter 56: Aaron

I leaned back in the stiff restaurant chair, fingers drumming restlessly against the tabletop as I checked my watch once more. I was early for this meeting, and I hoped that wouldn’t be too off-putting. Early was better than late, right? I hadn’t meant to show up so early, but I couldn’t stand to be in the house for another second with Jake and Matt. I didn’t need them asking questions, poking their noses where they didn’t belong. This was my time and my time alone.

Some sort of expensive appetizer called Oysters Rockefeller sat untouched in the middle of the table. I hadn’t tried any yet, hoping my guest would appear before I started stuffing my face, but I was already on my second glass of scotch, and that might have been a mistake because the flush in my neck and certainly my cheeks was probably a dead giveaway for how awkward I was feeling about tonight. I simply didn’t have the confidence that my other friends had. It had always been something they relentlessly teased me about.

“Take a breath,” I muttered to myself. “She’s going to love you.” Trying to soothe my nerves, I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket to check the screen, wondering if I’d have a missed text or call from Renee. Nope, nothing. A pang of resentment fluttered through me, but I pushed it away before it could take a stronghold. We’d had our time, and as the unwritten rules went, it was time for me to shove off so Matt and Jake could have their time with Renee. It was fucked up, but it was what it was. Besides, I had more important things to think about right now.

“Excuse me?” a warm female voice said somewhere behind me, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket as though I’d been caught cheating. Whirling around, I caught sight of a young woman who had her hand out for me to shake. “Aaron?” she asked, and I nodded, mute like a dumbass, as I stood to greet the woman, taking her warm, soft hand in mine.

“Celia?” I managed to shove out, and the woman nodded as I pulled out her chair for her, hoping this encounter wasn’t going to be a complete bust.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Celia said as I resumed my seat across from her. “I can finally put a face to the name.”

“I hope you’re not disappointed then,” I said lamely, and Celia laughed. She had a nice laugh. And a nice smile. And a nice body that any sane man would be an idiot not to notice.

“Not disappointed at all,” she said. “In fact, you’re exactly how I envisioned you’d be.”

“Dorky, geeky, but somehow still somewhat cute?”

Shit, the scotch was talking now. But instead of being offended, Celia only laughed again. Or, giggled more like it, as the server noticed her presence and stopped at the table.

“A drink, ma’am?”

“Sauvignon Blanc,” Celia said, her eyes on me as she ordered. “And a refill for Mr. Connor, here.”

I opened my mouth to argue but then closed it again. I’d do well not to fuck this up before it even began.

“So, Aaron,” Celia said as the server hurried away. She leaned forward over the table, and I caught a whiff of her intoxicating, probably expensive-as-hell perfume that lingered on her skin. “We both know why I’m here, yes?”

“I think so,” I said, adjusting my glasses before they fell right off my face. “Apparently you enjoy my work.”

“Enjoy is an understatement.” Celia leaned back a bit as her glass of wine was delivered, but her vivid blue eyes kept pinned on me as she took a sip, tilting her head slightly as if to size me up. Her puckered, ruby-red lips pursed briefly before she set the wine aside and leaned forward again. “My client, Marcus Barlow, was very, very quick to show you off,” she continued, her eyes raking over my face. I squirmed beneath her gaze, feeling the scrutiny of a professional who was still sorting out her prospect.

“He’s a good man,” I said lamely, gratefully taking another drink of the refilled scotch in my glass.

“He is,” Celia agreed. “A good man and a very powerful critic. When he said I had to meet you, I almost didn’t bother. Until I saw your work.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Celia smiled. Damn, even her perfectly straight teeth were pearly white, only adding to the attractiveness of this woman. “I wasn’t taking on clients,” she continued, catching me off guard for a moment. When I didn’t say anything, she continued to explain. “However, I would kick myself if I let you out of my sight and some other agent spotted your talent and scooped you up.”

I didn’t say anything, because I wasn’t sure how to respond without sounding like an entitled douche, so I took another drink instead, nodding as if I had any idea where this conversation was leading.

“I assume you’re not currently being represented?” Celia asked. I shook my head, swirling around the remainder of the ice at the bottom of my glass.

“No, I’m not. My art has primarily been my hobby. For years. I’ve never bothered to try and take it further.” I shut my mouth then, resisting the urge to add that no one else had bothered to give me a chance, either. Until now.

“Mr. Barlow is hosting a gala on Saturday,” Celia said, supporting her chin with a perfectly manicured hand. “I know you intend to be there.”

“I guess so.”

Have some confidence, Aaron, I scolded myself silently. It didn’t matter how intimidated I was; I couldn’t let this opportunity slip through my sweaty fingers.

“I mean, yes,” I reasserted, and Celia’s smile grew.

“Very good,” she said, and I was slightly surprised when she got to her feet, digging into her purse before withdrawing a crisp business card and handing it to me. “I’ll be there, too. Scoping out the talent. If this gala goes as well as I think it will, then I’d like to officially offer you representation.”

Hardly believing my luck, I frowned down at the card, reading her name and title. It was all so intimidatingly official.

“And if it doesn’t?” I asked, tucking the card away. “Go well, I mean?”

Celia simply shrugged, that smirk still lingering on her lips as she bent down and whispered something in my ear.

“You’re not the only talent in this city,” she murmured. “So I expect you’ll do your damnedest, won’t you?”

Before I could respond, she hitched her purse over her arm and sauntered out of the restaurant, leaving me sitting by myself, floating on a cloud of alcohol-induced shock, and wondering what was to come next for my career.