When I get to the café, Gerard is already there sipping coffee while seated at an outside table. He hasn’t spotted me yet, so I assess my reactions from the safety of my side of the street. I study him. Still good-looking, but also pompous looking—expensive suit, shoes, and tie, confident smirk, and a five-hundred-dollar haircut. In short, a handsome prick. But definitely not someone I’m in love with. My breath isn’t in my throat, I have no accelerated pulse, and my stomach remains level. Well, actually, it churns a little. If I can’t have total indifference, I’ll settle for total revulsion.

I cross the road. “Hi.”

“Blair.” Gerard stands up.

There’s an awkward moment when it seems he’s about to kiss me on the cheek, but my glare must be enough to dissuade him.

“Would you like a coffee?” he asks.

“No, thanks. I’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

“Sure.” He reaches down into a briefcase and hands me a folder. “Here’s everything you need. Get Rebecca Vanderbilt’s signature on the dotted line and you’re covered. Can I ask what this is about?”

“No,” I reply sharply. “You’ll find out by the end of next week, anyway.” I tap the folder. “Is this the real deal? Bulletproof like I asked?”

“Blair, you make Rebecca Vanderbilt sign that document and you’re not wearing a bulletproof jacket”—he knocks on the wooden table—“you’re standing in a nuclear bunker.”

“Great. I guess I owe you a thank you.”

Gerard smiles in a way I used to find endearing, but now only seems sleazy.

“Not at all,” he says, then takes another folder out of the briefcase. “If you could just sign this, we’re done.”

I eye the folder suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“The confidentiality agreement I sent you,” Gerard replies, nonplussed.

“I’m not signing a confidentiality agreement.”

He turns red from neck to ears. “Was this a trap? Your petty way to get revenge? You make me work for you and then you ruin me?”

“No, I’m not evil. Just because I’m not signing a piece of paper, it doesn’t mean I’ll go tell on you and Laura the second I leave here. Don’t worry, it was never my intention.”

“Why won’t you sign the confidentiality agreement, then?”

“Gerard, forget it. You’ll have to take me at my word.” I get up. “But you can relax, as, contrary to you, I am trustworthy.” I swing my bag over my shoulder and without waiting for a reply, I wave and say, “Have a nice life.”

Always wanted to say that to somebody.

***

That same morning I go over the details of the interview with Richard.