Free Overseas by Beatriz Williams Page A

you?”
    “I don’t know.” I turned back to my computer and propped up my chin with one hand.
    “It would be some fucking coincidence,” he offered.
    “Yeah,” I said.
    “Are you okay? You’re not, like, hurt or anything?”
    “Oh,
now
you think of my well-being. Once all the gossip is cleared away.”
    He flashed me a smile. “Hey, priorities! Seriously, though. You’re all right?”
    “I am totally all right. Just a couple of scrapes.” I pointed to my right arm. “Band-Aid stuff.”
    “Awesome. So have you had lunch yet?”
    “Charlie, there’s no way I’m poking my nose out of this conference room.”
    He considered this for a second or two. “I can bring you back something.”
    “Why are you being so freaking nice?”
    “
Fucking
nice,” he corrected me. “Because you’re famous now, and our celebrity-obsessed cultural imperative makes me, like, want to suck up to you. Reuben, maybe?”
    “Too greasy. Maybe something from that soup guy around the corner?”
    He stood up. “Done.”
    “And a Diet Coke?”
    “Don’t push it. You’re not that famous. Oh, fuck
me
. I’m outta here.”
    He dashed out of the conference room like I’d stung him, brushing past Alicia Boxer with a muttered “Hey, dude.”
    She frowned at his disappearing figure, and turned back to me with a broad grin. “Wow, Kate! You dark horse, you! Now I know why you jumped at the gala invitation like that.” She sat down in the chair Charlie had just left. “So what happened?”
    “Oh, it’s totally blown out of proportion,” I told her. “I was out for a run, and some guy tried to get all macho on me, and Julian sort of punched him.”
    She tilted her head speculatively. “So you two are, like, together?”
    “No, we’re just friends.”
    “Wow.” She smiled. “Some friend.”
    “He’s a good guy,” I said.
    “Hmm.” Her lips pursed. “So are we still on for dress shopping today? I can, like, sneak you out the back way if you like.”
    I opened my mouth to decline, but then an image crossed my mind: me, in some devastating black gown, sweeping through the doorway to an admiring crowd. Which included Julian Laurence.
    I stood up. “Let’s go.”
    W E WERE deep inside Barneys before I remembered Charlie and the soup.
    “Oh, he can eat it himself,” Alicia said. “What about this one?” She held up a long red dress with a V neckline cut down to the navel.
    “Um, I was thinking of maybe an empire waist,” I said. “It kind of suits me.”
    She frowned and looked me over. “You have to have a certain kind of body to wear that well, Kate,” she said.
    Whatever that meant. “Well, I still like it,” I insisted.
    “O-
kay
,” she said. “What about this one?”
    “I’ll try it.” I had just caught sight of something a few racks away and began threading my way warily around the swinging hangers.
    My phone rang.
    My heart leapt at the sound, but when I took my BlackBerry out of my pocket, the number on the screen wasn’t Julian’s. I sighed and popped the Bluetooth into my ear. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “What’s up?”
    “Honey, are you all
right
?”
    “Oh, Mom, you’re not
crying
, are you?”
    “Mary Alice called me with the news. What
happened
? Were you…
mugged
?” She said it in a hissing kind of whisper, like
raped
.
    “It was nothing. Some guy ran into me in the park, and a friend stepped in to help me out.”
    “Well, who’s this
friend
? Mary Alice says he’s some kind of…
billionaire
.” Again, the hissing whisper. For God’s sake.
    “Mom, he runs a hedge fund, that’s all. He’s like a client.”
    “
Like
a client? Or
is
a client?” Mom was invariably at her sharpest when it was least convenient.
    “It’s hard to explain. Wall Street stuff.”
    “Oh, honey. How badly were you hurt?”
    “Hardly at all. Just a few scrapes.”
    “But you must have been traumatized!”
    “Mom, the police took care of everything…”
    “Police!”
    Oops. “You’re making