How to Marry Keanu Reeves in 90 Days Page 4

  And despite these theories being the very thing that got our family where we were, they still irked the crap out of me. But I’d trained myself with a tactic learned from the A-listers in middle school and the elites at Forresters. I’d perfected it so well that it had now become a part of my brand. I called it the CIU. Like the CIA, but not really except for being a kind of stealth defense mechanism. At strategic times, appear either Clueless, Ignorant or Unbothered and watch how doors open. I found the CIU particularly helpful for flipping the script on the Strong Black Woman stereotype that for too many years had us bearing an unequal amount of weight compared to our white counterparts. Sure, mental gameplay like this was exhausting, but better mentally exhausting than physically backbreaking.

  I sighed, already tired thinking of the night to come. I just wanted to do my freaking art, as muddled as it was, and not deal with the rest.

  I’d found lately that no matter how much I tried to keep up my CIU and play the carefree artist Lu Carlisle, there were times that the real me would seep out. The perpetually pissed Bethany Lu was constantly fidgeting to break free like The Hulk, and I had trouble keeping a rein on her. Maybe that’s what was so tiring and not the rest of the world? I’d be left exhausted and hollow.

  Since I was feeling Hulky, I was glad I took Dawn’s advice and dressed carefully, going for cool sophistication. I’d chosen a simple halter jumpsuit with a wraparound tie that went from my neck and crossed around my back to my waist. I’d smoothed my “you’re not the boss of me!” curls as best as I could into a chignon, which showed off the back of the jumpsuit nicely. And strappy sandals completed the look.

  And that’s where I was now, walking into Shio all dressed up on the outside but inside, hollow. In myself, but out. Mad at a guy offering me money for my services and already sizing him up as some sort of john and feeling like a sellout. I needed to get my shit together. Still, no matter how much I tried to play the ditzy little rich girl, it felt like a betrayal.

  Listen to your voice. Dammit, there was True rambling in my head again.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I looked up at the man standing in front of me. Shit. It was Lim. And he looked even better in person than in the pictures on the internet. Wow. I don’t know how Dawn didn’t talk herself into this meeting. The man was giving off serious K-drama vibes, and I’m talking Lee Min Ho here, Heirs era but twenty of the best time-travel years later. Tall, dark and possibly devastating, he had almost movie-star good looks but with a slightly rugged edge. A muscular frame, broad shoulders and biceps that strained his dress shirt just enough to make you worry a bit for the threads. His skin was creamy with a slight caramel glow that spoke of good health and outdoor sports, and if he was faking it with a little tanner, then it was a good fake. Daniel’s straight black hair slicked back away from his face, showing off his high cheekbones and full, full lips. Something about him made me almost want to step up my game. Hit the gym or at least take Morphie on an extra lap around the block. I blinked twice. I couldn’t get unnerved by this man. Thoughts of physical fitness? I had to be out of my mind.

  But then I thought of my response to True and his stupid thumb.

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Would you care to take a seat, or would you like to tell me to shut up again?”

  Fuck me and my rogue inner monologues. I tapped the side of my ear and pretended to pull out a nonexistent earpiece.

  I smiled. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t talking to you. Just a bee that’s been buzzing around in my head all day today.” Get it together, Lu. Make this a part of your CIU and move on, I told myself as I took the seat offered by Daniel, noticing the hostess didn’t bring any menus.

  Daniel smiled back, nodding as if my answer made total sense, but his gaze still held an edge of caution.

  “Thanks for inviting me. It’s nice to meet you,” I said. I looked around at the small restaurant. The seven other tables were occupied, but it seemed that Daniel had, even with his last-minute switch, finagled us into the best one and the largest in the back corner. “Though I thought your assistant had us meeting somewhere else.”

  “I pulled a few strings.” His tone was nonchalant. Cool, as he nodded to a waitstaff person standing at the ready off in a side corner. I purposefully didn’t comment on whether I approved of his choice. I was going for the C—clueless—part of the CIU plan. When he frowned, I knew he’d expected me to gush. The tiny restaurant was nice. Lovely even, a testament to serene harmony, with its floor-to-ceiling honey-colored wood. Once you were inside the tranquil space, it was easy to almost forget the hustle of the city beyond the doors.

  I bet Keanu would love it here. It was so him. Well, the him of my dreams. Not a married him. That sort of him would be happy at Ruth’s Chris with the New York Strip of the night.

  Suddenly my fingers itched to reach for my phone. Maybe there was an update. Something that said the news from this morning was all a joke. How could Keanu be settling down? And worse, now there were even whispers about the movie he was currently filming being one of his last. The idea of him and her walking hand in hand and toward some sort of mystic, artistic, beautiful, sex-filled, dreamlike Keanuland of retirement obscurity made me break out into a sweat. Mentally, I reached for my water, but instinctively my hand went for my phone and hovered over it.

  Daniel cleared his throat, and the thinly veiled annoyance in his eyes let me know that I was probably blowing this deal. My hand pivoted from my phone to my water. I took a sip that turned into a long pull and instantly regretted it, remembering I’d chosen to wear a jumpsuit and the complications that came with it. I gave Daniel an apologetic look and traded my water for my phone. Still going in with the bad choices.

  “Sorry, Daniel, please excuse me a moment. It’s just that I have something I need to check. Then I’m all yours.”

  He nodded and smiled, but for a moment I could see a little of his facade crack as I picked up my phone. Dammit. Nothing new. Keanu’s wedding was still a top trending topic.

  I put my phone down and turned it upside down on the honey wood surface to avoid any further distraction. And right on time too, as just then plate after plate of little bites of food began to arrive, brought over by the most beautiful lineup of Japanese guys. And by lineup, I mean they literally seemed to march the plates out in line. One plate per man, eight plates total. No déclassé trays for this place. Then they silently disappeared three seconds after dropping off the plates. All eyes in the room were trained on the little curtain the drop-dead gorgeous troupe had disappeared behind.

  I fought to unscrew my face and bring it back to cool and back to Daniel.

  “I’m sure you know how exclusive this restaurant is. The wait is over a month to get a reservation,” he said.

  “And yet your assistant told me a different restaurant, and your driver said this was a last-minute change?”

  His full lips thinned ever so slightly. “Like I said, I had to pull a few strings. It was short notice. I assumed you would enjoy it.”

  I blinked at all the little plates in front of us. Everything was beautifully presented, even the bits that appeared to still be catching a last breath. “And this. You assumed to order for me too?”

  Daniel leaned back, then laughed. “The grilled eel and crab is the finest in the city. I made sure to put in our order as soon as I arrived since the chef only has limited quantities and once it’s gone it’s gone. I didn’t want you to miss out.”

  I could practically hear Dawn yelling at me to stand the fuck down. Eat the eel, shut my trap and close the deal.

  She was right. Well, the voice in my head was right. Why was I being so hard on this guy when all he did was preorder my dinner? I looked down at the eel, which could have used at least three more minutes of grilling for my taste, but bit my tongue against commenting. There were worse things to swallow than a bit of eel when there was money on the table.

  “Come on. Please try it,” Daniel said. “T
he eel is a little squirmy, but I swear people rave over it.” His tone was milder now, and when he smiled and I let my guard down for half a second, it was really nice.

  Besides, I’d chosen to accept this invite precisely because of his money and that charming smile. He could help my career get to the next level. I picked up the eel with my chopsticks and offered up a small prayer for it and my slime-feel gag reflexes. “Bottoms up!” I grimaced. “Whichever way that is.”

  Daniel laughed again as I downed the eel. It was cold and though not alive, you couldn’t convince me it was fully dead either. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the reviewers were gushing about. I stilled as a strange aftertaste, spice and smoke, bloomed in the back of my throat and radiated throughout my chest. This part. This part was different. I didn’t like anything about the eel going down, but the way I felt now—the taste on my tongue and the tingle in my chest—I hated to admit it, but I wanted more. Crap.

  Daniel raised his eyebrow and nodded, looking entirely too full of himself in that moment. I rolled my eyes and reached for the crab as he finally focused on his own meal and started in on his pitch.

  I did my best at working a double focus, but the crab was tasty too. This little oasis of a restaurant was coming on strong to prove me wrong. No, it wouldn’t convince me it was worth the prices or the waits I’d read about, but the food was something to remember.

  I had to pace myself, though, and when it came to the shirako I drew the line. I poked at the cream-colored sacs in the translucent amber sauce and decided against it.

  “It’s a no on the shirako?” Daniel’s voice held an edge of mirth.

  I edged the dish his way. “Sorry, no. I’m pretty discerning when it comes to sperm intake. But please enjoy yourself. Don’t you want it?”

  “What I want is you.”

  I blinked. “You’re joking.”

  “Why would I be?”

  “You’re talking professionally, of course?”

  He paused and looked at me seriously. I could feel my blood starting to simmer, but my gut was telling me to be patient and go CIU. I could almost see his wheels turning. Daniel laughed then. “Of course professionally.”

  I thought of the overpriced sperm.

  “I’d like to think of us starting a wonderful friendship with this dinner tonight,” Daniel continued.

  I stared at him for another long moment, now True and his warnings coming to mind. I thought of bringing up True but decided against it. Better to keep feeling Daniel out. So far he wasn’t like the brash kid True seemed to hint at. “Fine. My new friend. Let’s talk business.”

  Daniel grinned, then leaned back.

  “Professional to professional. What is it that I can do, professionally, to help you?” I asked. “Is there a reason for you calling me that doesn’t involve eel or fish sperm?”

  He laughed and held up a hand. “Let’s talk about your work. I think it’s fantastic.”

  I leaned back myself, for the first time feeling like I was on better footing. “Thanks,” I said, “but if it’s a commission or commissions you want for your company, I’ll have to be blunt and say thank you for the meal but I’m booked with works right now and pulling strings at nice restaurants won’t get you to the front of my queue. Also, I have a show coming up soon at the Taylor Gallery and there are works to finish for that.”

  He smiled again. It felt slightly feral and this time there was a flash to his dark eyes. It was dead sexy this dangerous look. Absentmindedly, I brushed a runaway curl behind my ear, then ran my hands across my now cool shoulders.

  I cleared my throat. “All that to say that now is a terribly inconvenient time for new projects.”

  He took a sip of his sake. Smooth and unfazed. “Time is never convenient, Ms. Carlisle. But like I said, I want you.”

  My lips tightened. I’m sure he knew precisely how that sounded but had no idea how it also annoyed.

  “I tell you what,” Daniel said. “You’re probably not used to your talent being valued in a way that it should be.” He rubbed his thumb over his chin as he stared at me. My eyes, lips, shoulders, hands, suddenly it felt like every part of me was under scrutiny. Like he wasn’t just assessing the value of my work but my overall value. My stomach roiled and for a moment I felt like the eel might wiggle its way back up.

  “What if I commit to buying out your show now? You give me the estimated value of the pieces and you don’t have to complete them. That way your time is freed up to work exclusively for DLIG.”

  Oh. The. Whole. Fuck. No.

  Who did that? Yes, it was guaranteed money, but it was like cheating and I was not a cheat. Also, it was taking my ideas and shuttering them before they even had a chance to be born. Once again: Fuck. No.

  “What?” he asked.

  I looked at Daniel. “What do you mean what?”

  “It sounded like you said fuck no.”

  I blinked at him and frowned. There I went again with my inner voice getting out. Oh well. Done was done.

  I shrugged. “Sorry about that. The fuck was supposed to be silent, but it did go with the no I was going to give you. That’s not how art works, or at least it’s not how my art works. My art is not for one person. I am not for one person. Buying everything out before my show feels suspiciously like ownership. And besides, I don’t work exclusively for anyone except myself.”

  I narrowed my eyes, unable to hold my mask in place, and watched as Daniel’s eyes went wide.

  “Oh no, of course not. Which is why we’d make a perfect partnership. My company could bring your art to so many people and make you a household name.” He spoke quickly now. Like he was trying to sell me on me. Now his voice had a distinct Home Shopping Network, in-this-hour, auctioneer-time quality to it that put me on edge. I felt like the tables were turned and it was now him on the verge of losing his shit.

  “Like I said, Ms. Carlisle. No, Lu. I want you. DLIG can brand you and make you a household name. Imagine your work on luxury goods sold in our shops. An exclusive collection of handbags with your artwork. Silk scarves, some of your commissioned pieces on the walls of our hotels. We can make you the star you deserve to be. All we’d need is rights to some of your works, name and likeness and—”

  Once again there was that buzz and the pop. The same one I’d heard earlier that morning when I saw the Keanu tweet. They wanted my work, name, likeness and rights to it all. And though it sounded grand, it felt as if I’d be giving up so much. While making my work available to the masses, they’d be putting more limits on me and my creativity. When words like rights and exclusive were dropped, I knew to be wary. I put up my hand and stopped him midsentence. “Like I said, Daniel, it’s not allowed. At least in my world.”

  He stared at me for a moment before he spoke again. “Since when is something not allowed in this world, Lu?”

  Daniel let that hang in the air for a moment before he laughed again, as if he was filming a supervillain cameo clip. It was awkward and a little cringy and thankfully he eased up and relaxed into something that seemed like semi-normal human. “Don’t worry. I’m patient. Your talent isn’t going anywhere. The offer stands. For a while.” Once again the pause. Shit, this guy was good at theatrics. “I do have shareholders and you are our first choice, so it will be much easier to take what we have to offer now.”

  “So you’re looking at other artists?”

  “No, you’re the only artist we’re considering.” He lowered his tone and his eyes became somehow deeper. “The only artist I’m considering.” He let out a sigh. “It would make things so much easier if you’d just accept.”

  Easy. Since when has anything been easy for someone like me? Not as a girl and not as a woman.

  As he said the words, once again I felt myself zoning out. What made me so special? I blinked and tried my best to hear what he was going on about now. “You are so talented, which is why we want you. Talented, plus you have your finger on the pulse of what’s going on in the urban landscape of to
day. We could have a multimedia showing of your work and bring it into different aspects of our conglomerate. Like I said, your artwork could be exclusively featured in our hotels and shops, and hell, we could even do a line of dinnerware.”

  If I balked at this, Lim didn’t notice.

  “The Lim name is top tier and you are beautiful, elegant and cultured but also just urban enough to straddle both worlds.” He smiled and my stomach reacted. I knew it had nothing to do with my one taste of eel either.

  Just urban enough. I sucked in a breath as I wondered what DLIG’s urban meter was.

  Daniel pushed me a small card with an astronomical number and for a moment my breath stopped. It took another moment for me to restart it while he called over the waiter and settled the bill.

  Shit. It was a good number. But was it my number? It was high, that I did know. These were the type of digits the devil dealt in.

  “How about I drive you home? Or we can go back to my place and discuss things more?” Daniel’s voice startled me, and looking back across the table I half expected to see the devil himself or at least Al Pacino’s version. Seeing Daniel was a bit of a letdown.

  I picked up my phone and hit my Uber app, then looked back at him. “No thanks, I have a car coming.” I looked back at my phone. “Cherry in a Chrysler Pacifica will be outside for me in four minutes.” I waved it in his face.

  He looked disappointed and maybe a little angry, but that was his problem. He got a little sulky and tried to hit me with sad eyes. “But the night is still young, and the view is gorgeous from my penthouse.”

  I hit him with a “really?” look. “It’s been a night and I think you should stop at your nice offer with all the zeros. Does bringing up your view and talk of a penthouse actually work on New Yorkers?”

  He shrugged, then started to get up. “Sorry about that. I knew it was lame when it came out.”