Chapter 39

Max was pretty sure he was in love with Paige Stuyvesant. He wasn’t the sort to believe in love at first sight, but he’d felt something for her since the first time they’d spoken and it had only gotten stronger in the intervening weeks. Despite how he’d framed it to Simon, her behavior on St. Martin had hardly done anything to cool his ardor. Max may not be the most secure guy on the planet, but he definitely wasn’t so insecure that he could be angry at his girlfriend for getting turned on by fooling around with other girls and then taking it out on him.

Beyond that, Paige seemed uncomplicated and uninterested in drama. She was a little bit more adventurous than Max, but not terrifyingly so. She was more comfortable in her sexuality than Max was in his own, but again, she wasn’t Cat Easton. She didn’t seem to know how beautiful she was, but she knew she was damned pretty. If Max had assembled a girlfriend for himself out of parts, he wouldn’t have known enough to make someone who fit him as well as Paige.

None of that served to save him from inappropriately lusting after other women. When he’d first moved to New York, he remembered thinking thinking that, if he was constantly surrounded by beautiful women, he would eventually get to know them as people and stop lusting after them so hard. As it turned out, getting to know them just made it worse.

Hall Dunford had done Max a huge favor by asking him take over dungeon mastering the group with the four lingerie models and Nick, but that hadn’t exactly done his relationship any favors. He’d originally thought of Kiki, Pilar, and Casey as “Nick’s lingerie model friends,” but after a few weeks of playing Dungeons and Dragons with them, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were genuinely his friends too. They talked to him before, during, and after the weekly sessions and knew him well enough to tease him.

It went even deeper than that with Emily. As improbable as it seemed, Max and Emily had definitely become friends. Ever since they’d started helping out with Anne and her kids, they’d also hung out more and Max was pretty sure Emily had flirted with him more than once. It was impossible not to fantasize about how it would be to actually be with Emily. Max didn’t feel bad about his fantasies. If he’d actually tried to have sex with all the women he’d fantasized about, they’d throw him in jail and never let him out.

But with Emily, he sometimes dared to think he might actually have a shot - not at being her boyfriend of course, but at being with her at least once. She was with Dennis, but Dennis never stayed with anyone very long. And the way she talked during morning workouts sounded like she felt she’d wasted years with Clive and wanted to make up for lost time.

It wasn’t until he climbed onto the plane early Friday morning that he realized he was about to spend eight hours in a plane with a plurality of the women who’d starred in his most recent sexual fantasies. It started out as an idle thought, but when Casey sat down across from him with a wide grin, things started to get surreal.

Casey wanted to talk backstory for her rogue Corva. She’d been talking it over with Hall in LA and had a whole saga in mind including dragonborn and ancient familial obligations. She had notes on her phone and plot hooks. As she spoke, she drew first Emily’s and then Kiki’s attention. Soon the four of them were all talking about the game and their characters. Then, Max made a reference Emily didn’t understand which led him to bring out his laptop and show them all a short video on YouTube. That led to another video and a third. Because there were only two seats in the row but they were fairly wide, they wound up all crowded together. At one point, he dozed off and woke up with Kiki in his arms, sprawled against him and Casey pillowing his back. Emily laid across the facing seats, her deep breathing making him feel like a voyeur just for looking at her.

Hours later, he’d woken up to find himself alone in the set of seats, but the memory remained. Already, Paige seemed very far away.

Once they’d landed in Italy, he was escorted to a limo with Casey, Esta, and Gwen. The car had barely started moving when Casey said. “You dozed off before you answered my question about Corva’s secret patron.”

“Did I?” Max frowned, then glanced across the limo’s cabin at two puzzled-looking models. “We’re talking about a game we play together.”

“Max is my dungeon master.” Casey added.

That statement only added to the other women’s confusion and Max suspected she’d worded it deliberately for her own amusement. Gwen had heard of Dungeons and Dragons. Esta hadn’t. The explanation led to a discussion of how Nick had met his lingerie model friends or, as Gwen dubbed them, the “unbelievably lucky bitches.”

The whole conversation was relaxed and good natured, even when Gwen and Esta started grilling Max and Casey about Nick. Casey let him answer most of the questions, but admitted she was letting her mother think she was dating the young billionaire because her real love life was too weird to explain to a member of the Blackford Falls PTA.

“Tell me about it.” said Gwen sympathetically. “My parents still think marriage is between one black woman and one black man and that everything is about getting to that point.”

When they looked at Esta, she shook her head. “My parents have written me off completely. I’m ‘too willful to do anything with.’ Hanging out with the Stones was strike two. Prancing around in my underwear in public for a living was strike three. They cut off all contact last year ... finally.”

As the women talked among themselves, Max considered Casey. If he hadn’t met Paige, she would seem like the perfect woman for him - gorgeous and nerdy as hell. She was with Hall and Cat, but that was even better than Emily’s situation. A woman who had two lovers might take a third more easily that one who was, as Gwen had mentioned, fixated on the “one man, one woman” thing.

Under normal circumstances, Max doubted any of the women that had come over from New York with them would have noticed he even existed. But living in Nick’s reflected glow for a week in a rented Italian palace, anything seemed possible.

As they reached that palace, Max’s eyes got wide. It looked like a castle. Liveried porters waited in two lines along the driveway to take their luggage. The lobby was richly appointed with antiques. Max didn’t know much about antiques, but they looked expensive - baroque and deeply upholstered with solid wooden frames. He was more than a little afraid to touch anything. His room had more modern touches, but the massive canopied bed looked like the kind medieval kings died in. The balcony overlooked a wide courtyard with a turquoise pool at its center. Pilar was down there showing some of the models something while burly men assembled a stage almost directly under his balcony.

He sighed, went back inside, kicked off his shoes, climbed into his royal deathbed, and texted Paige, asking her to Facetime him. She did only a couple of minutes later. When her face appeared, it looked like she was in her dorm room.

“Hey, Max. I guess you made it to Italy?”

“Safe and sound in our little palace,” said Max. “I’ve got to show you this bed before we end the call. I need you to figure out which sixteenth century head of state died in it.”

“Are they still there?” Paige asked. “I hear all the best hotel rooms in Italy come with a dessicated royal corpse.”

Max laughed. “I should call the front desk and complain immediately.”

Paige smiled softly. “So, what’s up?”

“Just checking in to let you know I arrived safely.” said Max. He almost left it at that, but then added. “Is it too weird and clingy to say that I miss you yet? I know it’s been less than twenty-four hours.”

Paige lowered her eyes, then shook her head. “No. It’s not too soon. How long have you been there?”

“Just got here - landed about a half hour ago and got a ride over from the local mafia.”

“Did you get to have sex with anyone on the flight over?” Paige prompted.

Max shook his head. “I tried to masturbate, but my selfish friends refused to all cram into the cockpit to give me a little privacy.”

“Bastards,” agreed Paige. Max didn’t say anything for so long that she filled in the silence. “So, if I got drunk at your Milan palace tonight, who do you think I would make out with first?”

“Me, I hope!” said Max quickly.

Paige laughed hard enough that she rocked back and forth once before saying. “Okay. Assume you’re busy playing poker or something. Who then?”

Max thought about it for a few seconds. When he couldn’t come up with a funny answer, he went with the best real answer he could come up with. “Honestly, probably Kiki. As far as I can tell, she’s pretty much always on the prowl and likes the challenge of seducing straight ... ish girls.”

Paige smiled and lowered her eyes again. Then, she said. “I’m glad you called.”

“Oh? Why?” Max asked.

“Honestly? I had this weird feeling last night as I was walking back to my dorm that I’d talked to you for the last time.” said Paige. She pushed her hair back, not smiling anymore. “I thought there was a chance you’d go to Milan, hook up with a supermodel, and forget I existed.”

“Not a chance.” said Max earnestly. “We only have the ordinary sort of models here, not the super ones. And none of them make me laugh half as much as you do.”

“Good. Sexier, prettier, I can deal with. You find someone funnier, Paige is going to have to cut a bitch.” said Paige.

Again, Max didn’t answer right away, but this time Paige let him gather his thoughts and didn’t interrupt. “All joking aside, there may be some ... temptation on this trip. We’ve been kidding about me giving into it since I told you about this trip, but I don’t know how much of that was on the square. I...”

“Max...”

“Let me finish, please.” Max held up his hand. “I really have no idea how to deal with attractive ... or really any women coming on to me. It never used to happen. Before I moved to New York with my friends and before I met you, I thought I understood what happened after that. Now I have no clue. You’re the only person I can ask and get the right answer. What do you expect from us?”

Paige took a breath to speak, looked to make sure Max wasn’t going to interrupt her, and said. “And if I said I wanted you to be a good boy and not let any of those sexy, sexy girls get their hands on you?”

Max shrugged. “Then that’s what would happen. I don’t need more than you, but I do need you.”

Paige smiled faintly. “Max, you are a very sweet man. And I believe you mean that.”

“I do.” Max insisted.

“I know.” Paige sighed and sat back against her headboard. “Max, there’s still a lot about me that you don’t know, but I’m trying really hard not to make any promises I know I won’t be able to keep and not to ask for any I don’t think will be kept.”

This time it was Max who let Paige gather her thoughts. Finally, she said, “I’ve decided something that I want for us. When and if we ever decide we want to be exclusive, that should be it. We’re exclusive until we either break up or death do us part. No trying exclusivity and then going back to just dating while seeing other people. Okay?”

“All ... right.” said Max slowly. “That sound reasonable.”

Paige nodded. “All right. Until we’re ready for that, let’s not talk about exclusivity. I’ve never been good at it and you’ve never had a chance to try anything else. Just ... enjoy yourself in Italy. Don’t worry about ... things.”

Max took a slow, deep breath. It would be so easy to agree to what Paige was saying and leave it at that, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying. “I don’t want to lose you, Paige.”

Paige smiled. “Max, listen. If you sleep with somebody else, our relationship is going to change. I don’t think it’s going to end - not because of me anyway. If you find out there’s something you want more than me, try to do it while I’m still young and hot enough to move on. All right?”

Max gave a pained smile. “Is ‘all right’ the correct response there?”

“Close enough.” Paige took a deep breath. “Listen, let’s just promise each other that, if we screw up, we at least consider giving each other a do-over to prove we’re not terrible people?”

“All right.” Max nodded. Combined with what Paige had said earlier about him not knowing much about her past, he was starting to think there was a lot more going on under the surface than he realized. He held up one hand with a single finger extended. “Pinky promise?”

Paige smiled more broadly and held up her hand. “Pinky promise.” As Max gestured like they were hooking their pinkies together, she added. “So, how many girls do you think you’re going to need to sleep with to get through a week in Italy?”

Max winced. Paige had a way of being funny that left bruises sometimes and she expected him to keep up. “I don’t know. None. All of them. Somewhere in between. Maybe two?”

“All right - as long as I know what to expect.” Paige’s usual wicked smile was back. “Hey, would it help if I sent you a picture of my tits?”

Max laughed. “I can’t think of a situation where that wouldn’t help.”

Rifkeh woke to a knock on the door to Lev’s bedroom and rolled to her feet almost immediately. During her time as an MP, she’d learned to wake quickly and assess her situation before she’d even started thinking consciously. She’d fallen asleep in her cousin Lev’s bedroom and was still there. Whoever had knocked on the door was waiting for her to respond, not bursting through. Lev wasn’t here. He was on his way to Italy. And apparently he hardly ever used his own apartment, preferring to spend most nights with his lady love, Arwen.

“Miss Mahan?” a woman’s voice called from the other side of the door.

“Yes?” Rifkeh called back.

“The kitchen staff are going to be serving brunch shortly. They’d like to know if you’ll be joining us.” called the woman.

Rifkeh went to the door and opened it. A young, pretty Greek woman with an iPad stood on the other side. “I thought everybody was on their way to Italy. Who’s ‘we?’”

The young woman smiled. “Simon’s guest Shelby is here and her guest Alexis may be joining us. Cat Easton, the art director for the world builder project is also in residence and planning on joining us. And there’s me. I’m Zola, Nick’s assistant in residence while he’s in Italy.”

“Oh.” Rifkeh scratched the back of her head thoughtfully. “I could eat. Is there a dress code?”

“No. I’m not sure how things will shake out while it’s just the few of us, but breakfast has been a pretty informal affair.” said Zola. “A lot of people show up dressed in whatever they slept in.”

Rifkeh looked at the smart gray business suit Zola was wearing and resisted the urge to ask if she’d slept in it. Clearly she hadn’t. Instead, she pointed out. “You know I don’t actually live here? I’m just a guest.”

Zola nodded and smiled. “Nick has asked us to extend all the same service we do for residents while you’re here.”

Rifkeh closed the door and went to dig in her duffel bag for a pair of sweatpants. She debated grabbing a shower before she headed out, but decided she could wait until after she ate when her stomach protested the idea with a rumble. She wasn’t sure her nose had adjusted to civilian sensibilities yet, but she knew it was important to grab sleep and food when they became available.

The Loft’s main room had been completely reconfigured since the night before. All but one of the tables were gone, leaving an expanse of empty floor as big as the entire Tel Aviv apartment she’d shared until recently with her now ex-boyfriend Hillel. At the table sat Zola and two women Rifkeh didn’t recognize. Zola rose and said, “Shelby, Cat, may I introduce Rifkeh Mahan? Rifkeh is Lev’s cousin from Israel in New York for college visits. Rifkeh, this is Cat Easton, the artistic director on the world builder project and Shelby Carter, Simon’s guest.”

It was the same information Zola had given her a few minutes earlier, but Rifkeh appreciated having it repeated now that she had faces to attach to it - faces and bodies. Rifkeh was generally happy with her own toned, athletic frame, but Shelby and Cat and even Zola to a lesser degree were curvy enough to make her feel like a malnourished boy. She smiled and nodded. “A pleasure.”

As she sat, Zola held up her iPad. “I was just putting in breakfast requests with the kitchen. Do you have any special requests? We don’t have kosher facilities, but we can order out.”

Rifkeh made a split second decision and shook her head. On the kibbutz, her family had been indifferently kosher. The Israeli Defense Force kept strictly kosher kitchens and Hillel had expected her to do so as best as could be managed in their apartment’s efficiency kitchen. But it had never been her decision. “No dietary restrictions. What’s everyone else having?”

When Shelby mentioned a cheddar and broccoli omelette with egg whites, Rifkeh said. “That please - but with egg yellows, please.”

Zola smiled and kept typing. Shelby looked Rifkeh over for the first time. “How are you liking New York so far?”

“I haven’t really seen it.” admitted Rifkeh. “I was supposed to fly in today and start looking at colleges tomorrow, but I got an earlier flight when Levi announced the party. I saw what we passed on the way from the Holland Tunnel. This wasn’t much of New York, I think. We are close to NYU here?”

“NYU has a lot of spread-out buildings, but we’re pretty close to the heart of it.” said Zola. “Do you know where you’re going at NYU?”

“Not yet. I don’t have a visit scheduled there. I need to find and talk to someone.” Rifkeh explained.

“I can help with that,” said Zola. “SSCS keeps an active database of contacts in college admissions offices around the country. And we’ve helped a lot of people get into NYU.”

“SSCS?” Rifkeh asked.

Zola explained about Stone-Stryker Concierge Service, how they were providing staff for Nick, and the broad array of services they could provide. She finished by saying. “While Nick’s out of town, I’ve been tasked with keeping the Loft stocked and running, making sure the renovations downstairs go smoothly, and providing resident services for the three of you and Alexis.”

“And ‘resident services’ include helping me get into NYU?” Rifkeh raised an eyebrow.

“We can’t guarantee admission, but I can certainly provide you with a contact and an introduction.” Zola smiled. “That can open some doors.”

“So, wait. What else does ‘resident services’ include?” Shelby asked. “I didn’t expect the kitchen to be operating while Nick and the inner circle were gone.”

Zola turned to Shelby. “My instructions were to maintain all normal operations and to provide you with the same services we provide for regular residents. The list is pretty open-ended. If you tell me what you want, I’ll tell you if we can provide it.”

“Wait.” Shelby said again. “Nick told you to provide us with the services you normally provide for like Simon and Lev and Max? Like shopping and reservations and personal trainers?”

“Those are all services we can provide. Yes.” Zola said, sounding delighted.

Shelby looked like she didn’t believe Zola’s words. “He gave you money for this?”

Zola picked up her tablet and swiped a couple of times. “The instructions come from Tanvi, but they’re effectively from Nick. On Wednesday, she sent me a message that lists my responsibilities for this week and that list includes ‘provide all resident services for Cat, Shelby, and Alexis. Report to Cat in Nick’s absence.’ Then early this morning, she sent me a message that says ‘Include Lev’s cousin Rifkeh in resident services for the duration of her stay.’ There’s also a budget code for any expenses incurred.”

Cat looked up from her coffee for the first time. “Wait. What was that part about reporting to me?”

“Nick wants me to refer any questions that need to be answered quickly to you.” said Zola. “In most cases, I’ll relay them to Nick and...”

“No.” Cat shook her head. “I did not sign up to be adult supervision. I’m whatever the opposite of adult supervision is. If you’ve got any questions, ask Shelby. She’s lived here longer than me.”

“I don’t live here. I’ve just been staying here.” Shelby pointed out. “And I’m sure that I’m the last person here who Nick would want ruling in his stead. Rifkeh would be a better choice.”

“Me?” Rifkeh was startled. “I don’t know anything. I just got to this country.”

“Perfect. You’re unbiased.” said Shelby. “And I for one welcome our new Israeli lords and masters.”

“What?” Rifkeh was more confused now.

“There shouldn’t be anything that needs answering that quickly anyway.” Zola tried to reassure them. “It’s only for emergencies.”

“Like if we’re playing strip poker and the cops show up?” Shelby suggested.

“That was a perfect example of an emergency. We needed to react quickly and Nick wasn’t immediately available. Max took charge of the situation and it was resolved fairly quickly.” Zola offered.

“Yes. And if I’d been in charge we’d probably still be in jail.” said Cat. “Shelby, you must have been class president or head cheerleader or something.”

“Nope. I was a happy follower. Lexi was both of those.” said Shelby. As if on cue, the elevator dinged. “And there she is now. I say we draft her before she can say no.”

“Draft me for what?” Alexis asked as she strode across the room to the brunch table.

“To be in charge while Nick’s gone.” Shelby tilted her head back and was rewarded with a kiss.

“What would I have to do?” Alexis asked.

“Just be in charge if something needs to be responded to more quickly than we can get Nick’s feedback on it.” Zola said.

“Like Max did with the police raid.” Shelby filled in.

“I ... could probably do that.” Alexis said. “But I can’t imagine Nick would want me for the job.”

“It’s down to you or Rifkeh.” Shelby told her, then indicated the young Israeli woman. “This is Rifkeh. She’s Lev’s cousin, fresh off the boat from Israel.”

“I flew actually.” said Rifkeh. She was still trying to make sense of the kiss that had passed between Shelby and Alexis. Were they a couple? They didn’t look like lesbians. She thought she’d seen Shelby and Simon together last night. “And I’ve never been in a command role.”

Alexis looked at Zola. “As long as Nick doesn’t mind, I’m fine with that. It should be a pretty quiet week anyway. Right?”

“Actually ... Nick has left orders that we’re to be treated like the inner circle this week.” said Shelby. “Don’t you still need to do some shopping for college?”

Alexis laughed. “I’m sure Nick didn’t mean to buy us clothes.”

“Actually, clothing is one of the goods I’m explicitly authorized to provide.” said Zola. “Within the budget line Tanvi gave me. It is fairly generous, though.”

No one spoke for a few long seconds. Finally, Alexis said. “Well, I was hoping to do some clothes shopping while I was here...”

“I already did all of my clothes shopping.” admitted Shelby. “Or most of my clothes shopping. I guess I could use a few accent pieces ... and maybe some shoes. What about you, Stretch?”

It took Rifkeh a moment to realize she was being addressed. “Sorry. What?”

“Want to play dress up on Nick’s dime?” Shelby asked.

“I ... have enough clothes.” said Rifkeh uncertainly.

“Well, think about it. This is the shopping capital of the world and we could bury you in Balenciaga without Nick even noticing the cost.” said Shelby.

“I’m ... a guest here. I don’t want to take advantage.” Rifkeh offered weakly.

“Nick wouldn’t have offered the services if he didn’t want you to use them.” said Zola.

“And we’re all guests here.” Shelby pointed out.

“Nick!” Pilar hadn’t thought about how much she missed her new boyfriend until she’d wrapped herself around him in the middle of the courtyard of the palazzo dei sette sogni. He hugged her back hard enough that he lifted her off her feet and spun her around, eliciting a squeal. It felt good and right to be in Nick’s arms. She couldn’t remember if it had ever felt like that with Geoff. “How was your flight?”

“Long.” Nick kissed her softly. “But Tanvi and Monica conspired to make sure I actually slept through most of it.”

“Tanvi and ... Monica?” Pilar gave him a puzzled look, considering how she and Kiki tended to help him sleep.

He must have figured out what she was thinking because he kissed her again. “With tea and melatonin and some kind of deep-tissue massage, I think. My brain just stopped yammering and I fell sound asleep.”

“That’s wonderful.” Pilar hugged him again, then looked around. “Have you seen Kiki?”

“She was on the plane with us and I’m pretty sure I saw her get in a car with Dennis and Emily. Why?” Nick asked.

“I have some choreography I’m supposed to teach her before the show.” Pilar furrowed her brow. “Do you happen to know if she has any dance training?”

“I ... don’t.” admitted Nick. Then, he looked past Pilar and added. “There she is. Kiki!”

Kiki came striding over. “What’s up?”

Pilar looked her up and down. “Do you have any dance training?”

“Ballet until I was fifteen, a few zumba classes at the gym, and some other stuff. Why?” Kiki smiled.

“There’s some choreography in the show for you that Jazz sprung on me at the last minute. Do you think we can go over it?” Pilar asked.

“Sure. What does it involve?” Kiki asked.

Pilar showed her - two quick spins and some footwork. Then, she gestured some men over. “After that you go down in a bow. Emily gestures for you to be brought forward and these two bring you to her in a lift.”

Kiki looked at the two strapping young dancers and grinned broadly. “Yeah. Let’s try this.”

Pilar hugged Nick one more time and said quietly. “I’ve got a million things to do with the show, but I’ll need a shower before hair and makeup. If I came looking for you, do you think you might have some time for me?”

Nick smiled and stroked her cheek. “Always.” Then, with another kiss, he turned to go. “I should be up in my rooms for a while settling in.”

Pilar watched him go until Kiki turned to her. “You’ve got it bad for Nick. Don’t you?”

“I’m just...” Pilar started to say, but it wasn’t like she’d be able to keep any secrets from Kiki for very long. “Yeah. I kind of do. I thought it might happen, but I didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”

“He’s a good guy.” acknowledged Kiki.

“Did you two have fun while I was away?” Pilar asked with her best smile.

“Sure. We have more fun when you’re there, though.” said Kiki. “Why don’t you show me these dance steps?”

Pilar did. She’d been working pretty much nonstop since arriving with Jazz on Wednesday - directing set construction, going over choreography, posing for two photoshoots with Ethan, IBJ’s primary photographer. The last part had felt like a bit of a vacation. Working directly with Jazz on the other hand ... Pilar loved her cousin, but Jazz’s strengths had always been more artistic and creative than organizational. She’d managed to book all the models and the crew and get them all pointed to Milan, but she’d left the actual details of the show until the very last minute. As the models started arriving this morning, it fell to Pilar to actually make sure that they had the skills to perform the runway show Jazz had designed. They all knew how to walk a runway in heels and be fierce doing it, but each was also supposed to fall to a kneeling pose in front of Emily at the end of their walk. Some had additional dance moves to learn as well. Not all of them knew how to dance. Pilar taught what she could, modified the program where she couldn’t, and swapped roles with Ceilidh, a freckled ginger girl who had two left feet. Hopefully no one would ask why the Mexican model was dancing a modified jig.

“I feel bad that I’m just going to be sitting around for all this.” Emily said, coming up to her as she watched Kiki and her partners practice the lift that would take her from the end of the stage to Emily’s palanquin. “It turns out I totally could have walked in this show.”

Pilar looked her up and down and gave her an excited hug. “You’re on your feet again! No crutches!”

“No crutches.” Emily held out her hands and did a little two-step. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?”

“You will be doing plenty. You’re the Australian king. You ride your palanquin to the top of the stage here, sit imperiously on your throne, and gesture for each of your potential wives to be brought out.” Pilar gestured. “Then, after Kiki does her little dance, you gesture for her to be brought to you. Bruno and Rico bring her to you.”

“Then what do I do?” Emily asked.

“You ... accept her as your betrothed.” said Pilar. “I don’t have any specific choreography for that. Can you wing it?”

“Sure,” said Emily. She looked at Pilar. “You know, you and I have been partners at this for years. Why aren’t you going to be my betrothed?”

“Kiki’s going to be the face of IBJ in Japan.” Pilar pointed out. “And the whole campaign Jazz has in mind involves acting. I don’t act.”