“Do you want another Water Lily?” Elisa got up from the couch and crossed to the kitchen area of Haven’s apartment, where the ingredients for the cocktails were arrayed on the counter.
“Yes. Can you make the next one stronger?”
“It’s all alcohol, baby. You just have to drink them faster. Or stop eating Cheetos so they absorb faster.”
“Can’t,” said Haven.
Elisa paused in the midst of squeezing a lemon and arched a brow. “Hav? Are you in love with him?”
It was a question Haven had been desperately trying not to ask herself. She’d been drowning even the hint of that question in work, dealing with administrative issues that under other circumstances she would have happily procrastinated for years. Methodically calling, emailing and texting back reporters to tell them she was sorry but she had promised High Note an exclusive. Trying to figure out how, exactly, she was going to explain the events of Saturday night to Suellen. In short, she was doing anything to avoid the question that Elisa now posed.
“No,” said Haven.
Elisa set the lemon down and reached for the crème de violette. “Are you sure about that?”
“Positive. It was just really good sex.”
“I think you’re going to need to tell me a little bit about this really good sex.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“About the sex?”
“About any of it.”
After Mark had walked up the street last night, Haven had gotten out of the cab (much to the driver’s fury) and gone back into the fund-raiser. She had no choice, because nothing screamed scandal louder than running away. Reporters swarmed her when she returned, and she made herself smile at them like nothing was wrong. She pretended that she understood what had just happened to her and she’d planned it all to go this way.
“Do you know the history between Pete Sovereign and Mark Webster?” a reporter demanded.
“Let’s keep the focus on the kids,” Haven said. “Pete Sovereign and Mark Webster came here tonight to give children access to musical instruments. Whatever history is between them, they thought these kids were more important.”
“What’s going on between you and Mark Webster?”
“Anything you need to know about my working relationship with Mark Webster will be in the exclusive I’ve granted to Suellen Marvel at High Note.”
“Is it just a working relationship?”
“I’ll remind you again that we’re here for the kids,” Haven had said firmly. Coolly. Even if she’d been nowhere near cool inside. More like suffering from alternating flashes of hot shame and ice-cold fear.
“Did you know Pete just made a public statement that he’s agreed to do the tour? Says he pities Mark because there’s nothing worse than a public breakup. Says that’s enough humiliation for one week.”
She wasn’t surprised. Trust Pete to find a way to add another layer to Mark’s defeat.
She’d stayed until the end of the fund-raiser, then taken a cab home. She kicked her shoes off, stripped out of her dress, let down her hair, and went to bed with her makeup on. In the morning her pillow would be gritty and black with mascara, but she didn’t give a crap.