Too Thick

It wasn’t getting any easier. Juliet sat across from Henry in a fancy restaurant, wearing an elegant gown and lots of sparkly diamonds, a fake smile on her face as he rambled on about how it had been growing up in France. She pretended to know nothing about the country, despite the fact that she had lived there most of her life. At least, when he was talking, she didn’t have to think up lies or pretend to be someone she wasn’t. All she had to do was ask questions and try to pay attention long enough to remember what he’d said.
But it was a task easier said than done. Sitting across from him, her stomach tightened into a knot, she wished she could scream at him and tell him how much she hated him. Instead, she had to pretend to be interested in him, as if she might want to be his girlfriend, or more, someday. The idea made her nauseated. As it was, she was nervous about the fact that he’d surely expect a kiss goodnight this time. He’d picked her up from her “apartment” which was really where an artist friend of hers lived, and would be taking her back there later. He’d lean in, his eyes closed, and she’d have to press her lips against his….
“After that, we moved to Paris,” he was saying as Juliet tried to keep her stomach from forcing what few bites of chicken she’d managed to swallow back up. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve been talking about myself all night,” he said with a sigh and a small smile. “I’d love to hear more about you.”
“There’s not much to tell you that I haven’t already.” That was so not true, but she obviously couldn't tell him the truth. “I grew up in LA. My parents moved to Florida about two years ago. I told you how I went to school to get my degree in graphic design.” She shrugged again. “Then, I started my business but didn’t get much traction until I saw the story about Ella Sinders and contacted Rome.” She rolled her eyes, hoping to remind him that she was not a fan of the actor. “That’s really all there is to it.”
“What was it like growing up in LA?” he asked, finally paying attention to the pasta dish in front of him. He’d been talking so much, it was likely cold.
“Fine,” she said with a shrug. “I wasn’t part of the scene since my parents were middle-class, but it was exciting. There was always something to do.”
“What did you like to do?”
“Go to art galleries.” She said it like it was the obvious answer. “Mostly, I’d go see shows from up and comers, unexpected artists. Those are my favorite. People who think outside of what’s popular at the time.” It was that edge that had helped drive Montage into popularity with the rich and famous now, that and the influence of getting her hands on those Fae Wards.
He took a sip of his wine. It was his second glass. He wasn't driving, since he’d had his car service pick her up and that’s how they’d get home, but she preferred sober Henry to tipsy Henry any day. “Are you still friends with people you knew from high school or college?”
It seemed like he had Googled “questions to ask on dates.” Everything he was asking was so impersonal. “Not really. Zita is one of my best friends. I met her right before Montage’s reveal. I don’t have a lot of time for other friends.” Zita Kristo was the artist whose apartment she’d borrowed. Juliet had told her that she just didn’t want Henry or anyone to know where she lived, and since Zita was out of the country at the moment and was thankful to Juliet for getting her work discovered, she hadn’t minded one bit that Juliet wanted to borrow her apartment. She’d given her a key and said she could use it any time, even stay there if she wanted to. It made deceiving Henry that much easier since she could hardly take him to the house she shared with Rome. Most people knew by now that Rome had bought Fae Ward’s old house, and that’s how he’d met her and connected Juliet with Fae.
“What about actors and actresses?” Henry asked. “Do you find yourself spending much time with any of them?”
Juliet shook her head. “I work a lot right now. I need to do everything I can to make sure that Montage is a success. Perhaps in the future, I’ll have more time to relax and spend my free time doing something other than working, but at the moment, there is no free time. If I have a moment, it needs to be used to advance my business.”
“And yet, here you are,” he said with the sort of grin that told her he thought he was something special that she’d taken time away from work to be there with him. She could argue that this was the most important work she had to do, but she couldn’t admit that to him. Instead, she gave him a coy smile and looked down at the table, noticing there was more cleavage showing when she had her arms folded like this than she was comfortable showing.
Henry had noticed, too. His eyes crept lower and lower. Juliet took a deep breath. She couldn’t let that bother her, not if she was going to carry out her plan. She needed to fool him into thinking that she was here because she couldn’t stay away, that Henry Caron was so compellingly interesting to her that despite her work and all of the other things she could be doing with her time, she had to be there with him.
With that impish grin still on his face, he reached across the table and rolled his fingertips along the skin of her arm, lingering on her shoulder. Every fiber of her being wanted to recoil, to jerk away from him, and to find his shin with the point of her Jimmy Choo beneath the table. She didn’t, though. Rome’s acting lessons were paying off. She actually managed to lean into his touch, to close her eyes and pretend she liked it.
The waiter came over at that moment to see if they needed anything else. Henry pulled his hand away, and Juliet wished she could somehow slip the man the largest tip of his life. Hastily, Henry assured him they were fine, and he was ready for the check. She still had quite a bit of food on her plate, but she wasn’t about to argue. Leaving would at least get them on their way, even if she was pretty sure Henry would expect a kiss at the end of the evening--at the very least. He wouldn’t get any more than that. Not tonight, anyway.
As the young man hurried away to fetch the check, Juliet asked, “How are your films coming along? Are you still planning to invest so much money in those awful films just to ruin Rome Verona?”
Henry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes as he blew it out. “I don’t know what to do, if I’m honest. I refuse to give the company back to his father, even if he paid me double what I paid for it. I wish I could just forget the ten movie contract, maybe make it five.” He shook his head as if the very thought of the situation gave him a headache. “I don’t know.”
Juliet tried to look sympathetic. “It must be awful to finally own your own movie studio and then have it ruined by that moron.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how wonderful it must be to own a studio. I think… someday… I’d like to produce movies. I doubt I’ll ever be able to afford my own company, certainly not one the likes of yours. But it would be nice to make a movie or two. Assuming I could cast whomever I wanted to. I mean, the fact that you have to cast him…. That’s terrible.”
She’d poured it on a little too thick. So much of her plan was dumped into that one bout of verbal diarrhea, she wasn’t sure how he would react. She was certain he wouldn’t figure out her end game, but in the future, she’d have to be more careful about how much she said all at once.