Page 82 of Love on the Byline
“This is different,” Bran argued. “A place like this is thedream, right? At least, it’s supposed to be.”
“Am I hearing you right?” Ollie asked him. “Are you nolonger set on owning one of these Pacific palaces?”
Bran laughed. “Never say never. But what I mean is that…Like, Reynolds has a nice home and a gorgeous wife, all that. But it’s real.It’s not a fantasy. This place, it’s a fantasy.”
They fell silent as she took a sip from her glass, both menglancing between her and each other.
“How did you end up at the L.A. Gazette?” Bran asked. “Idon’t remember much from college, but I do remember how serious you were aboutbeing a journalist. The Gazette is a rag.”
“It is,” she agreed.
“You couldn’t find anything on the East Coast?” Ollie mether eyes. There was sympathy there, and she wasn’t sure how to take it.
“There were a couple of outlets I could have gone to, thanksto my granddad.”
“He’s a reporter?”
“He used to be, yeah. And he cast a long shadow.”
“You want to make a name for yourself. I get that,” Bransaid. “In school, I wasn’t good at anything but playing soccer and talking shit.My dad, his dad, they were both businesspeople. Corporate life is notfor me. So, I did everything to avoid that.”
“Can’t get much further from corporate life than this,” sheagreed. “What about you, Oliver?”
“What about me? I’m not the subject of your profile.”
“Ols doesn’t like to talk about his life plans.”
“You have some, though?”
“Course he does,” Bran replied. “Our Oliver is going to be ascreenwriter.”
Ollie’s laugh was self-deprecating. “You think finding aposition at a respectable news outlet is hard? Try getting someone to read yourscript.”
“How would you know? It’s not like you let anyone read yourstuff, other than the doctoring you’ve done for me and the odd job for Lorna.She’d kill to have you full time, and you know it,” Bran added.
“Have you shopped anything?” She asked Ollie.
“No, he hasn’t.”
“Will you stop answering for me?”
“Turnabout is fair play, and all that,” Bran said, laughing.“He won’t even let me read his stuff. You know what I think? I think he’s gotthis cushy gig, looking after my dumb ass, and he’s in no hurry to move on.”
The look Ollie gave him, if it had been a weapon, would havesplit the man’s head in two.
Bran frowned. “Hey, I’m kidding.”
Ollie nodded, but the storm clouds didn’t leave hisexpression.
“Blake,” Bran said a little too loudly. “What’re you doingtomorrow night?”
“I guess I’m doing whatever you’re doing.”
“Fantastic! I hope you packed a party dress, ‘cause we’retaking you to a premiere. Isn’t that right, Ols?”
“Me?” Ollie gaped at him. “You want me to go?”
“Don’t you usually?”