Never remind them you’re communicating with their potential dates as a Cyrano. That line of thinking derails the client-ghostwriter relationship; they might start to wonder whether they’ll be able to bridge the gap between what you typed and what they do or say on the in-person date. It’s best to get in and get out as swiftly as possible and let the client take over once you’ve attracted the interest of a good match.

“You’ve seen it, right?” Bree says, reeling me back in to the topic at hand. “If you’re going to be talking like me, you have to be able to at least reference Undersea,” she adds.

I don’t answer right away. I’m too busy shaking my fist at the universe. Twenty-nine years I avoided that ridiculous film. For eight of them, it was at the request of the Duchess herself.

“You’re right,” I agree. “Can I borrow yours for a refresher course?”

I opt for a minimal bluff by implying it’s just been a while since I watched it. (If Sweet Nothings attracts a fetish contingent we’ve never heard of and Clifford needs to change the company name again, I’ll suggest Minimal Bluff.)

“Original or director’s cut? Special edition or—”

“Totally up to you. Whichever one you can most easily part with.”

We exchange cell numbers so she won’t have to call the switchboard each time she wants to chat. I tell her I’m looking forward to meeting her and seeing her vintage Undersea T-shirt tomorrow.

Somewhere in California, Mary raises a glass to me and laughs.

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

MILES

I haven’t been running much over the past six weeks. I haven’t exactly been feeling motivated to stay in shape, or get fresh air, or treat my body like a temple as much as a mausoleum for dead things, like feelings or a sense of self-worth. Every now and again, I’ve been doing a loop around Morningside Park, which is just a few blocks over from Dylan and Charles’s apartment, but that’s mostly been when Charles’s passive aggression has gotten the best of me rather than for any sort of health purpose.