by The Paperbag Princess (c. 1997-98)

I loved hotel bars. Bars in really great hotels where one is a guest are the best. The service is excellent and nonintrusive, and no one bothers you. Even if it was in New York, and even if my life did suck, the calm of the bar helped me relax. I felt anonymous for the first time in weeks, hidden in a corner in a huge overstuffed armchair. No one knew I was here, except for Kate. In the States, and I hadn't even called my friends. The thought of a phone call was more than I could handle right now. I just wanted to do my job, here in New York where no one cared who I was.

Bloody fucking London and the fucking tabloids. Being a cover girl sucked. I’d been hiding in my studio for days, finishing the Oasis shots and conferring with the publisher and Noel. I went straight from dropping them at the publishing house to the airport. This job had gotten me to New York, to finish editing the Charms video. Terrible, how I used one job to finish another. God forbid I should pay my own airfare now.

"Excuse me?"

Trying not to glare, I turned to the man standing above me. "Yes?"

"I know this sounds like a terrible line. But don't I know you from somewhere?"

I considered him for a moment. Dark hair and eyes, tall. But I did know him. How? Recognition hit us both at once, and we yelled 'got it!' at almost the same moment, making us laugh.

"You're the other Em."

Other Em. I hadn’t heard that one for a while, not since long before M had dropped out of all out lives, leaving Graham a shattered mess.

"And you're M's brother." For the life of me I couldn't conjure his name, and he smiled nicely.

"Tony."

That was it, that smile. I'd met him once, M had been snide as she introduced us, but he'd smiled at me, apologizing with his eyes for his sister. We'd talked a bit after she sulked away, and I'd wondered how such a spoiled bitch had ended up with such a sweet brother. "Tony the Phunky Player."

"Yes."

"Still?" He nodded. "In that case, I'm taking your picture tomorrow."

"Emma Evesham? I didn’t even make the connection. But weren't you a ... teacher?" He met my eyes quickly, both of us remembering the way M had snarled that description. She'd never liked me.

Still, I never wanted her gone. Wonder if Tony knew what had happened to her...

The waitress approached us, asking if he needed anything, and he hesitated a moment. "Sit, Tony, let me buy you a drink. Loosen your tongue to prepare me for the shoot tomorrow."

With a smile, he sat across from me, giving the waitress his order. "I wasn’t sure if you wanted company..."

"As long as you’re not from the tabloids, I’m happy for company."

"Ah, yes. You’re involved in some scandal, aren’t you?"

I scowled. Fuck, they knew? I was hoping the story hadn’t made it across the pond. "What have you heard?"

"Naked photos, Oasis, Blur, something like that. Randall was warning the Players not to tease you, I didn’t pay much attention."

"Good, don’t, its stupid. But I took this job to get out of London for a few days, in hopes that it would all be blown over by the time I got back." The waitress reappeared with our drinks, and we were quiet while she set them in front of us. "Maybe you can help me, Tony."

"Help you with what?"

"I know exactly this much-" I held up my thumb and forefinger, very close together- "about the Players. I know they're way cool, but rap is just not my thing. Can you give me a brief history?"

"What sort of history?"

"When they started, how many guys in the band, that sort of really basic shit. Are they going to hate having their pictures taken tomorrow?"

He laughed. "You just want that last part answered, don't you?"

I blushed, toasting him with my new drink. "Well, yeah."

"I will tell you the complete truth. Can you handle it?" I nodded, warily. It was one day, right? My own damn fault for saying yes without really thinking through the offer. "We were just in a meeting about our schedule for this week, and they heard your name..." He was just torturing me now. "They think you're dope."

I laughed. I was used to British artists, what the fuck did 'dope' mean? "Is that good or bad?"

He grinned at me. "Good. Very good. They know your work, everyone in the damn office was shocked that they got you on such short notice."

I returned his smile. "Oh, I’m sure they figured out why I wanted to be out of London so quick. Did they hand out copies of the tabloid articles?"

I pulled out a cigarette, and he had a light at the ready, smiling as our hands touched. "No, now I wish they had. There was definitely something about naked pictures."

I rolled my eyes. "Of me and Alex. James."

"Are you still with him?"

He asked that quickly, and I tried not to laugh. "No. Someone broke into my house looking for Oasis photos and ended up taking old prints of Alex instead. Which ended up all over the tabs, and Alex’s girlfriend left him, which also ended up in the tabs. They managed to make everything my fault. Which is why I'm here. Easier to be anonymous in New York."

"I don't blame you for wanting to get out of there. The tabloids can be awful, I know."

Our eyes met, and I knew that my stupid problems were nothing compared to his. He'd lost a sister, what had I lost, really? Some happy memories made sordid, a lack of privacy.

"Sorry. I shouldn't be complaining."

"Oh, no. You have every right. I just know how they can blow things out of proportion."

"Did you ever..."

"Find her, dead or otherwise? No."

I covered his hand with my own, wanting to offer some sympathy. "I don't think she's dead."

An odd look of hope flashed into his eyes. "You don't?"

"Not that I know anything for certain. But I ... she was too stubborn and melodramatic to simply walk off a pier." They'd found her backpack on the end of a pier in Whitby, which held some significance that Graham had never quite told me about.

He smiled at me. "Exactly. Which makes it all the more aggravating."

"Well, she did specialize in aggravating."

"You never liked her."

I shrugged. "I never disliked her. I hated that she hurt Graham and Justine, but that was later. I never wished her ill, it does make me sad that she's disappeared."

"She hated Alex more than she disliked you."

"I know." Silence for a moment, and I grasped for a change of topic that might make him flash that sweet smile again. I turned his hand over, looking at the lines. "You have a nice long life line."

"Do I?"

He leaned over to look. What was I doing? I was using Astrid's favorite flirting technique, that's what I was doing. Shit, two drinks and I'm flirting with strangers. Damn, which line is which again? "Yeah. This one, see? Oh, and a very deep love line. That's nice, I have that, too."

"Let's see."

I turned my hand over, pointing it out to him. "Here. Ours are similar. A friend of mine reads palms, she says that means I have one true love."

"Who is it?"

"Dunno." I was lying. I knew who it was, but I wasn’t thinking about that now. Shaking my head, I picked up Tony's palm again. "Dating anyone right now?"

He looked up from studying his palm to smile at me. "Not at the moment."

"Well, there's a lucky woman out there to be found."

He considered me for a moment, smiling flirtatiously, then looked back at his palm. "What else?"

I shook my head, laughing. "Nothing. That's all I can remember. Except..." I found a spot right under my ring finger. "See these? Evidently, if these lines ever meet, that means I'm a genius." He immediately looked at his own hand. Everyone did.

"I must be an idiot."

His hand was blank there, and I laughed. "I doubt it. I don't really buy this whole palm reading thing, just something amusing to think about."

"Did you tell your friend that?"

"She just uses it to pick up guys in bars anymore." I blushed. And what are you attempting, Ms. Evesham? "She went through a phase in high school, palm reading, tarot, all that."

"High school? And you still know her?"

"I've known Astrid my entire life. Literally. She’s three weeks younger than me, and our families were friends."

"Wow. The only people I've known my entire life are my family, and I don't talk to them much."

"Alex is your boss." His brother ran MVC. Younger? Older? I'd never met Alex, I wasn't sure.

He laughed. "Hardly counts, somehow."

"Well, he's been really nice to me. Got a limo to pick me up at the airport, put me up in this gorgeous hotel. Flowers in my room, even."

"I told him to do that."

"Ten minutes ago, you didn't even know who I was."

"Fifteen by now, surely. We're old friends."

I laughed, but declined his offer of another drink, jet-lag catching up with me. Still, I didn't stand up for another hour, we kept finding things to talk about. "Alright, Mr. Childe, if I stay here much longer I'll never get out of bed tomorrow to have a terribly early breakfast with your brother."

"You're having breakfast with Alex?"

Alex was the president, or CEO, or something. He was a big deal, I knew that. I'd told Nick that Alex Childe wanted to meet with me and he'd nearly fallen over. "We've been on their label for 16 years and I've only met Alex twice!" he'd muttered unhappily.

I shrugged at Tony, standing up from my chair. "Should I dress for the occasion?"

He laughed, but looked a bit distracted. "No. It's just odd that Alex would take a meeting over a photo shoot."

"It's not just that, I don't think. He's probably going to offer me a job or something." He glanced back to me, surprised by my tone. I got offered lots of permanent jobs. None of them were ever more appealing than being my own boss and making my own hours. "Don't worry about it. Are you going to be at the shoot tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm everywhere."

"Cool. I promise I'll take lots of good pictures of you."

"I'm not the one anyone wants to see."

"Says who?" I tilted his chin up, looking at the shadows of his face. "You're lovely." His eyes met mine and I dropped my hand, losing my nerve. "Runs in the family."

"Emmy was the pretty one."

He looked so sad, saying her name. "You're all pretty. I'll take pictures, you'll see."

"I'm keeping my clothes on," he joked.

I scowled at him, but the sadness was gone from his eyes, so there was no real malice behind my expression.

"Didn't you tell me you were warned against teasing me about that? I'll tell your brother."

"He's younger than me, don't let him fool you." Got an answer to that question, at least. Christ, how old was Alex? My age, and running a record company? Tony couldn’t be much older than me.

Shaking my head, I stepped away from him. "Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Em. It was a pleasure seeing you again."

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Definitely. It's sure to be the highlight of my day."

I ran into the Players on my way out, and stepped around them quickly. They were dressed in bright baggy clothes, talking loudly and roughhousing with one another. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with them. "Ton-eee!" they called out, seeing him at the bar.

Nice to know there would be one quiet and familiar face there tomorrow. I reran our conversation as I got ready for bed, trying to shake any other details I might know loose from my brain. Nothing. M and I were never close, and I didn't think she spoke about her family much anyway.

I loved good hotels. This one had a dataport on the phone on the desk, and I checked my email before going to bed. The usual suspects, the girls, Susan, John, a note from Kate... AJ Sexmeal?

To: emeves@university.edu.uk

From: AJSexmeal@blur.co.uk

Subject: Are you in hiding?

Em-

Your Kate says that you're in hiding, but I know you'd check your email from hell. She doesn't know I have your address, ha!

Wherever you're hiding, I hope you're ok. If its just hiding in your flat, we should get together. I haven't left mine in three days. Don't worry, I'm actually ... content. Its just easier this way for the time being. I have a stack of books and the telly, but I'm almost out of milk, so its into the sorry world again soon.

And I have the computer, too, I guess, but I don't use it much. Fix that, write me email.

Alexxxxxx

I complied.

To: AJSexmeal@blur.co.uk

From: emeves@hotmail.com

Subject: Not hiding, just in NYC

Alexxxxx-

Of course, I'll write back immediately.

Ha! You're just lucky I have interesting news.

Guess who I saw tonight? Well, you might not care, but Graham will. Tony Childe! M's brother! Very weird, we had a drink and chatted. He's very nice. I won't make any disparaging comments about his sister.

I doubt you'll tip off the press, so I'll let you know that I'm in NYC. Doing pictures for the Phunky Players tomorrow. Tony's a Player, remember? Keyboards. Drums? Crap. Keyboards, I think.

Anyway, this offer gets me out of London for a bit. I have a video to finish editing, but I hope that won’t take all week. Not sure what I'm doing after I finish that. I might just stay here and order room service for a week.

Reading anything good?

And note the new address- its easier to check this than my uni account. I'll get on a real server when I get back home. Blur have any POP accounts to hand out?

Em

Tony just smiled as Randall introduced me to the band, stepping back as the others told me how 'dope' my concert photos were, complaining that this sort of studio session was lame. I agreed, and I told them they could do whatever they wanted, maybe we'd get some sort of energy in the photos. They went off to get styled and I tore down the photographer’s backdrop, preferring to use the view of the city as our background, making friends with the assistant from the label. I needed my own fucking assistant, I really did. Was that too much to ask, a decent person to follow me around and check lighting and reload my cameras?

"How was breakfast?"

I turned to find Tony behind me. "Fine. He offered me some staff photographer position. I told him to fax the details to my agent."

"With the record company, or somewhere else?" MVC was one branch of a media conglomerate. I bet the Childes owned half the media in the States.

Glancing around and making sure that no record company personnel was near, I leaned closer to him. "Doesn't matter. I'm not interested. But this way I at least get MVC being nice to me until I leave." That was a lie. It was for one of the music publications, and I could do practically anything I wanted. It was tempting.

He laughed. "Smart woman."

"Thanks. You'd best get back to the stylist."

"I'm done." Jeans and a T-shirt, almost no makeup.

"You are not! C'mon, I want you all in those great suits."

He protested, but I dragged him back, floating between everyone in the band, getting the makeup artist and stylists to do what I wanted. I loved my job, ordering people around and dressing pretty boys. It was playing Dress Up on an adult scale. We all had fun, I think. The music was blaring so loudly that I couldn't hear myself think, so I just took pictures. Finally the Players had to be at an interview, so we stopped, and I was putting away my cameras when Tony appeared next to me again. "Now what?"

"I get to go back to the hotel and take a nap," I smirked at him.

"Shut up. Did you get any lunch?"

I glanced over at the wrecked catering table. "Um... no."

"Can I take you to dinner, then?"

He seemed a bit nervous, not quite meeting my eyes. Oh, this was a date.

To: TheQueen@kas.co.uk

From: emeves@hotmail.com

Subject: HELP!

I need a dress. Something nice. I have a date tonight. We were both sober when he asked me, you'd be so proud, Katie.

Yanking my hair back from my face, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

I might even want to get my hair cut. Know anyplace good in the City, or should I wait and go to the God of Hair in London?

Write back quick! The car's picking me up at four, and I'm sure you don't want to trust me to pick out something on my own...

Em

Sending that, I checked my new messages. A date. I had a date. I didn't think I'd ever been on a date before.

To: trid1027@aol.com, tsquire@aol.com, bayley@theweekly.com

From: emeves@hotmail.com

Subject: Have I ever been on a date?

Yeah, I didn't think so. Like, high school was people hanging out... in groups. And god knows my lovely Chuck in college was too sensitive for *dates*. And I fell into bed with Alex, so somehow that doesn't count.

Shut up about Courtney. I try to forget about that now. Anyway, that was hardly a date.

Of course, this is all leading up to the fact that I'm about to *have* a date! And you'll never guess with who.

::jeopardy theme music::

Tony Childe! Remember Emmy Childe, of A4J and Graham's gfriend? The one that mysteriously disappeared? We never liked each other, but I ran into her brother last night, and he's wonderful. Very sweet, and kind. He has the warmest eyes. I think I like him.

btw, I'm in NYC. still not sure for how long. Bay, I’ll call you tomorrow and see what your plans are.

I’m here to shoot the Phunky Players. Tony’s their keyboardist. We talked for a while over drinks last night, and this afternoon after the shoot he asked me out to dinner. Something about a blues club. Like I know from blues, but whatever.

What does one wear on a date? Can I be insulted if he doesn't bring me flowers? This is very weird.

Em

I started to scan my messages, but AJ Sexmeal jumped out at me again.

To: emeves@hotmail.com

From: AJSexmeal@blur.co.uk

Subject: Tony fucking Childe?

That's so... random. I haven't seen Graham lately. I'm not sure if he's talking to me. I'm not sure if *anyone* is talking to me.

How did you know it was him? Does he look like her, or introduce himself as a Childe, or what? Tell his brother to give us some promo money in the States.

>Reading anything good?

There followed a long, typically Alex description of about 10 books. I only had 20 minutes. I skimmed it.

>account. I'll get on a real server when I get back home. >Blur have any POP accounts to hand out?

what the fuck's a pop account? we're a pop band, aren't they all pop

accounts?

Alexxxxxx

He sounded depressed, so I fired out a quick message telling him to leave his flat, and then checked new mail again, hoping that Kate had written. Success!

To: emeves@hotmail.com

From: TheQueen@kas.co.uk

Subject: Re: HELP!

>I need a dress. Something nice. I have a date tonight. We were both sober when he asked me, you'd be so proud, Katie.

With who, you little tease? Who cares about the bloody dress!

>I might even want to get my hair cut. Know anyplace good in the City, or should I wait and go to the God of Hair in London?

I made you an appointment. 4:30, you'll like him. Are you going to follow my advice and get it all cut off? The press will be less likely to recognize you...

>Write back quick! The car's picking me up at four, and I'm sure you don't want to trust me to pick out something on my own...

Alright, alright. *I* care about the bloody dress.

She gave me a list of shops, most of them near the hair salon she'd picked for me. I scribbled them down and grabbed my credit cards. If Kate recommended something, chances were I'd be running up my credit again...

Oh my god, this was so adorable. He was waiting for me in the lobby, looking nervous in his new suit. The one he'd worn for the photo shoot, it looked wonderful on him. I stood behind a pillar for a moment, just watching him. He was quietly gorgeous, someone you could walk right by without really noticing. But once you got closer to him, and saw his smile, and his warm eyes, you didn't want to walk away.

I checked my new hair in the mirror one more time, wondering again if it was too short. I felt naked, they'd taken nearly 12 inches off. Now I had a very 20s style bob, with a rather 90s blond streak on the left side. My dress matched my hair, sleeveless black silk and a few bugle beads with a drop waist. A very long string of fake pearls, of course. Kate would be so proud. A fussy little purse that I would probably lose before the evening was over, but I needed lipstick and credit cards and cigarettes, so I brought it.

A deep breath for courage, and I approached his chair. He smiled nicely as I approached, but obviously didn't recognize me. New fucking hair.

"Em?" He was incredulous as he took a second look.

"Is it too short?"

He jumped up as I joined him. "Um... no. You look gorgeous. It's a real change, isn't it? What brought this on?" He reached out, touching one of the longest pieces in front, checking the length.

"It was in my eyes." Laughing, he dropped his hand. "Besides, its been long for years. I figure it'll grow back." I caught sight of my reflection, only half recognizing myself. "It's going to take a little getting used to."

"It's amazing. I'll be the envy of every man in the city."

Blushing, I managed to meet his eyes. "Thank you. You look rather nice yourself. Nice suit."

I smiled at him, but he blushed, looking away. "There's something I want you to know from the start."

"Ok. What?"

"Alex..." He shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. "Alex insisted that we use the company limo. And I got back to the hotel, and the suit was there. But I want you to know that me asking you out had nothing to do with the damn company."

"So why'd you wear the suit?"

Looking up, he smiled. "I figured I could use all the help I could get."

Laughing, I took his arm. "You're too sweet. I'm not taking Alex up on his very generous offer, so let's stop discussing it."

He sighed. "Gladly."

"Alright then." I started towards the doors. "Where are you taking me again?"

"Well..." He considered me for a moment, then smiled. "I was going to take us to see a blues show, but I think right now we are far too dressed up for that. How do you feel about swing music?"

"Is there food?"

"There will be dinner and dancing. And then maybe afterwards, after a few drinks, we can see the blues player."

"I’m up for anything right now."

He grinned suggestively as he held open the door for me, and I returned it. Yes. Anything. I’d actually skip the preliminaries right now...

"Would you like to dance?"

Tony stood above me, offering a hand, and I hesitated before taking it. We’d moved to a table closer to the music after dinner, and I’d found myself quiet, feeling terrifically unhip watching the swing kids dance. I so often felt like I was pretending, dressed right, but clueless after that. "I’m afraid I don’t have any idea how to dance to this music."

"Follow me. It’s easy."

I downed the last of my martini and took his hand, letting him lead me to the dance floor. We found a spot and he pulled me into his arms. "Just follow me." I did, trying not to stare at his feet, and after a moment we were moving together. "That’s good, now..." He spun me out and back to him, but my feet tangled and I ended up giggling into his chest.

"Sorry."

He smiled down at me, brushing the hair away from my face. "Don’t be."

I swear he was about to kiss me when the song ended, taking the moment with it. Fuck. We straightened up as the next one began, and by the end of it, I was almost dancing, enjoying myself too much to really care if I looked like an idiot. Damn new shoes.

We danced until the end of set, laughing and sweaty as the band took a break. We stumbled back to find our table taken and I turned to him with a giggle. "Alex surely wouldn’t’ve given us a limo without a fully stocked bar."

He laughed with me. "Surely not. Should we see that blues player after all?"

"Why not? I think we got our workout for the evening." We made our way through the crowd to the door, falling into our waiting limo. Tony told him the address of the next club while I rummaged through the mini bar. "Champagne!"

"He probably planned for us to drink that when I’d seduced you into taking the Swirl job."

"Fuck Swirl. Why the hell would I sign with Swirl and give up having everyone competing for my attentions?" I hesitated in pouring the champagne, trying to remember who’d said something similar to me. "Courtney!"

"No, it’s Tony. Anthony if you’re being my father annoyed with me."

Handing him a glass, I shook my head. "No, a ... friend of mine told me once that his band had been happier before they were signed, they had this complicated plot to wring lots of money out of the record companies courting them. I never really understood what he meant until this very second." Tony arched an eyebrow at me, wanting me to go on, and I smiled. "Just that its fun, having people want you."

"I find it difficult to imagine this is new to you."

"You are very sweet, but it is. I’m a photographer, people don’t fight over bloody fucking photographers." I caught myself drawling out ‘photographers’ in my best Nick Rhodes accent. Luckily Tony didn’t catch that.

"But you are the hottest thing in London right now."

I waved a hand at him, dismissing the thought. "Don’t believe my press."

"None of it? You didn’t seduce the Oasis boys, that’s not you in the naked photos with Alex James?"

I considered him for a moment. "Were you researching me, Mr. Childe?"

He shrugged. "My father owns the papers that printed some of those pictures. It only took one phone call." He looked a bit ... embarrassed. But only a bit. These things were matters of public record by now, after all.

"I did not have affairs with either of the Oasis boys, I got that black eye you must have seen on the cover of the Sun from a stage diver, and yes, I took those photos of Alex and I a very long time ago." I glanced outside at the buildings flying by us. "And they’re right when they say the truth hurts. The others things were amusing at worst, but someone broke into my home and stole something very private to me. It’s like your father’s paper decided to print my journal entries."

"Em." His hand on my cheek made me look at him, a quiet apology in his eyes. "I have next to nothing to do with the family business."

Our eyes met for a long moment, and I finally smiled. "I know." I trusted him. Tony was not MVC, I shouldn’t let business interfere with my pleasure. "We should stop talking about this."

Nodding, he leaned closer to me, and we kissed. A warning light ran through my mind when he pulled me into his arms, and I moved away from him before I could think it through. "What?" he wondered, a bit perplexed.

"It’s not you, Tony. It’s..." Hadn’t I just been complaining about complicated boys? Was Tony finally the boy I could just kiss and enjoy myself with? I shook my head, smiling at him. "It’s a long and stupid story. And the punchline is that I’m really happy to be with you right now."

"Fuck the story, then." I laughed, then his lips on mine distracted me again. I liked his lips, I liked the way his hands felt sliding up my leg, I liked kissing him in the back of this limo.

"I’m too happy to sing the blues."

He moved away from me, blinking. "What? Oh. Fine. Fine, what else should we do?"

"Nothing! Drive around, and hang out the sunroof, and drink champagne and make out," I sang, stretching my arms out in glee.

He laughed. "And then do we get to go to the prom?"

"Oh. Am I acting stupid?"

"No. Hardly. You’re darling. Where’s the button to talk to the driver, we’ll tell him to take us through Central Park."

"Perfect! It’s one of these..." The controls were on the door next to me, and we turned on the TV and the radio and opened the moonroof before we found the channel for the driver.

"Yes, Mr. Childe, Ms. Evesham?"

"The blues suck! Can you take us through Central Park instead?"

"Whatever you wish, ma'am."

"Thanks! And don’t call me Ms. Evesham, it makes me feel like a teacher again. Em is good."

"Whatever you wish, Em." He sounded distinctly amused before closing the channel and making a turn.

"Do you not want to remember your teaching days?"

I looked at Tony with a smile. "Not tonight. Teaching was hard. Alex says I taught because my parents did, not because I wanted to, and he might be right. But I-"

Tony interrupted me. "Alex?"

"My Alex. James. I don’t know if he was right about that or not, maybe he was. But taking pictures is a fuck of a lot more fun than teaching."

"I imagine it is." He pulled my legs across his lap, running his hand up my calf. "What did you teach?"

"English. In the city, where kids in high school could barely read. But I said I don’t want to talk about that tonight! Tell me how you learned to dance like that."

"My mother taught me. Taught us all, actually. And I don’t want to talk about that."

"Then let’s not talk." With a smile, he kissed me again. When our driver told us we were at the park, we were sprawled across the seat, and his lovely suit was all mussed. We looked at one another for a moment, like we were kids that’d been caught by parents, finally breaking into giggles.

"C’mon, let’s hang out the moonroof and be stupid." I found a pop music station and we stood up to see out the top of the car, pointing out points of interest to one another as we drove by, waving at people who stopped to look at us.

"I bet they think we’re famous," he whispered to me.

"Ah, we can act like it, at least for an evening. It’s fun, in small doses."

He kissed me again, making me giggle at the cliche of it all, being rich and silly in New York City. We broke apart and I looked up at the sky, growing dizzy from the sight of the stars and the skyscrapers, his arms around me, the champagne. Why couldn’t life always be like this one moment?

But eventually we reached the edge of the park, and the driver asked what we wanted to do next. Tony and I exchanged a look and answered in unison. "Back to the hotel."

We were so drunk when we stumbled onto my floor that I had trouble with the keycard to get into my room. Laughing and kissing, we tumbled into the room when I finally got the door open, and I had to pull away from him to close it again. When I looked back at him, he was surveying the room. "Your room is much nicer than mine!"

"Your brother wants me. He’s already got you."

"Fuck him. You’re mine." He pulled me into his arms, kissing me deeply. We groped for a few minutes, fumbling at buttons and zippers until I stood in a puddle of black silk, my pearls tossed somewhere across the room. He stepped back as I reached for him again, surveying my body.

"You are so beautiful, Emma."

"Emma?"

"I cannot make love to you and call you Em. That’s my sister’s name." I had to smile at that. "Unless only your parents call you Emma?"

"No. Not even my parents call me Emma. A friend of mine does, so I can handle it." I took his hand, pulling him back to me.

"A good friend?"

"A complicated friend. And right now, I don’t want to think about complications. Just kiss me."

Complications came soon enough, when the phone rang at 9 am. Half asleep still, I answered it. "Em, this is Randall. Do you know where Tony is?"

"Um... yes. Does he need to be somewhere?"

"The car leaves in 30 minutes."

"He’ll be there."

"Should I tell your driver to be ready to take you to Swirl?"

I squinted at the clock. "Ten."

"Excellent."

I hung up the phone and turned to find Tony smiling at me. "How late am I?"

"The car leaves in 30 minutes. I don’t know where its going."

"To MTV, I think. Interview, in studio, that sort of thing. You could come."

I sighed. "No, I have to go and be courted at Swirl."

"I thought you weren’t taking the job?"

"I’m not, but I need to develop the Players pictures. And then I have a video to finish."

"A video for who?"

"The Charms?"

"I know them. They opened for Ask for Janice on a tour of the States. And I’m always running into Kate at industry things."

Smiling, I shook my head at him. "Please don’t tell me you’ve slept with her."

He laughed. "We’re hardly one another’s type. Why?"

"So far Kate and I have two men in common. I’d really like to keep it at that."

His grin was curious. "Who?"

"One I doubt you know, but she was dating Alex up until a couple of weeks ago."

"And you’re doing her video?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "It is possible for us to work together, regardless of our sexual histories."

"Hmm... didn’t you say that she left him because of those naked photos of the two of you?"

My good mood suddenly deflated, I rolled out of bed away from him, searching for clothes. "Yes, she did."

The robe was only half over my shoulders when I felt his hands around my waist. "Emma, I’m sorry. I was just joking. I shouldn’t’ve, I don’t know anything about the situation."

With a sigh, I leaned my head against his chest. "It’s such a long, complicated story, Tony. And you have work to do."

He kissed my hair, holding me close. "So do you."

"Yes. We both do. But once I finish this video, I’m free until Sunday. What time will you be done tonight, can we have dinner?"

"Absolutely. I should be back here by 7 or so."

"Do you have to make an appearance at any industry functions, or can we stay in and order room service?"

"Room service, and you can tell me the whole long complicated story. If you want to."

I wouldn’t want to. I was sure of that.

He had to put his rumpled suit back on to slink back to his room, muttering that if anyone saw him in the hallways, he’d never hear the end of it. I kissed him at the door, then opened it and scanned the hallway for Players. Clear, and he ran out, blowing me a kiss at the elevator.

Oh, I liked him. This was wonderful, much more than I had expected on this trip to New York. Maybe my life wasn’t such a confused, muddled mess after all.

I showered and dressed, read email over my room service bagel. Kate and girls were dying for details of my date, Susan emailed me about a job in Los Angeles at the end of the week. Hmm. A chance to see John, perhaps?