Moonlight Over Seattle. Callie Endicott
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Back at his condo, he phoned Syd and explained the newest wrinkle in the situation. She felt it would give an added human interest twist, provided he was transparent about the circumstances.
“Our readers know life is messy. They’ll be interested to see how you handle it,” she told him.
“These articles aren’t about me,” he objected.
“Maybe they will be, partly at least. It’s an intriguing angle.”
Jordan hung up, ready to pound the wall. Was it possible that Syd was trying to maneuver him into writing a regular piece for her magazine? Before she’d become the editor, PostModern had asked him to do a monthly column, but he was happy with the way things were. While he might write a book someday, in the meantime he had the footloose and fancy-free life he’d always wanted.
* * *
AT TWELVE THIRTY SHARP, Jordan knocked on Nicole’s door. “Shall we drive together?” he asked.
“Sure. That way we’ll look like parents showing up to cheer on their kids. It should elevate the anonymity level.”
“You don’t want anyone recognizing you?”
“That’s why I plan to slip in as the play starts. It cuts down on the potential. Plus, I have these.”
She pulled out a pair of studious glasses and put them on. They changed the look of her face, especially since he’d never seen her wear anything other than sunglasses.
“Do you actually need your vision corrected?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve had these for years. They’re good for misdirection.”
Without makeup and in an oversized shirt, it was possible she wouldn’t be recognized, though no one would mistake her for anything except an extremely beautiful woman.
“Will I pass?” she asked.
“I suppose. You really think we’ll look like parents?”
“They can’t see how we really feel about marriage and each other.”
“I’ve been upfront about my disinterest in becoming a husband. So you feel the same way?”
She grinned. “I definitely don’t want to become anyone’s husband.”
He groaned. “Come on. Do you always misdirect?”
“Is this for the article?”
“I don’t know. Everything’s a possibility. Plenty of speculation has gone on about your decision to leave modeling. A husband and kids were large question marks.”
“Well, I’m not interested in getting married,” she answered in what seemed to be a deliberately light tone. “The advantage of having a dog instead of a husband is that they don’t think something is wrong if you aren’t wearing makeup.”
Jordan was sure there was something deeper being hinted at, but doubted she’d say more at the moment.
“Your editor mentioned wanting pictures for the articles,” she continued. “But I hope it isn’t necessary to include one of me dressed this way. Going incognita is the best way to give these kids a fair shot.”
“I understand.”
Nicole walked to her car, parked in the driveway, and Jordan knew it made sense for her to drive since she’d probably visited the school already. They arrived a few minutes before 1:00 p.m. and she led the way to the auditorium, arriving as the curtain on the stage was going up.
Throughout the performance, she watched attentively, occasionally checking the program, though without making any notes. Presumably she wasn’t seeing anyone she felt was promising. Jordan had to give her credit for appearing conscientious. His own attention kept wandering, unfortunately drawn by the scent Nicole wore, the line of her cheek, and the way her slight movements made him aware of the curves that had so often been displayed in a bikini or lingerie.
Perhaps that was the problem. Pictures were just pictures. But now she was here in the flesh and even though those curves were completely covered by a casual shirt, he’d seen enough photos of her in scanty clothes to know what lay beneath.
Shifting in his seat, he told himself the whole thing was basic human chemistry and could be overcome by rational thought.
Toward the end of the last scene, she stood and gestured for him to follow. They slipped out of the auditorium and walked briskly to the car. With the way they’d arrived and departed, he thought it was unlikely anyone would have noticed Nicole, even if she hadn’t been in disguise.
“At least you don’t have to attend tonight,” he commented as she drove from the parking lot.
“Excuse me?” She cast a surprised glance in his direction.
“There wasn’t much for a talent agent to explore.”
“Did we see the same performance?” she asked incredulously.
“What are you talking about?”
“For one, the kid who sang a song in the third act. Her role was too small to see if she has any acting ability, but her singing was excellent.”
Jordan frowned, remembering the short girl with stringy hair who had sung a few lines before getting interrupted by other onstage action.
“That kid isn’t exactly a star in the making.”
“Is that based on your prejudice against girls who aren’t your idea of sex goddesses, or because you think the agency can’t be interested in people who don’t fit the world’s limited concept of beauty?”
Whatever else Nicole might be, she was sharp enough to analyze his response and require him to define his intent.
He shifted in his seat. “If anything, I figured Moonlight Ventures would only be interested in clients they can develop as supermodels or into major acting stars.”
“Actors and models don’t have to fit a particular idea of good looks and I’m not interested in stereotypes.”
He shook his head, bemused by Nicole’s relentless logic. “Okay,” he said, deciding not to pursue the subject further, “the girl has a good voice. Is that all you got out of it?”
“The play itself was authored by one of the seniors.”
“It was?” Jordan had thought the show was well-written, despite the often excruciating performances.
“Yes. According to the principal he’s been a rebellious screw-up and had to write the play to get enough credit to graduate. I thought it was good and we may be interested in writers. Adam is exploring development of a literary division in the agency. I don’t know if that will work, but other agencies