Lou's A/N: The problem with writing about a depressed character when one is depressed is that it's... well... depressing. This story was beginning to drag me down, and even though I desperately wanted to stick to the plan and tell the rest of the story, I wasn't sure I could. This is where awesome, amazing, super talented friends make all the difference.
Ladies and gentlemen, this chapter has been guest-written by the genius that is The-KLF. She has been an absolute rock star in taking on my story, listening to my ramblings, understanding where this needed to get us to, and writing a quality chapter. Please, please, please, go read her fics and leave her lots of love, because she has been such an amazing support in taking on this chapter for me.
Special thanks to honeyandvodka for being such an awesome beta! I promise the next chapter won't take nearly so long!
Katherine's A/N: Knowing Lou, she's probably called me a genius in her author's note, so I just wanted to point out that I am nothing of the sort. However, I had a lot of fun collaborating on this, even if it was a struggle to write it angsty enough sometimes! I hope you've enjoyed it :)
He wasn't sure that he'd ever made a point of being early to anything before writing his post-Beckett list, but here he was at an out-of-the-way coffee shop in Little Italy with half an hour to spare. Or more, since Paula would almost certainly be late.
Castle retrieved a notebook and pen from his bag, and started to make character sketches of the people around him. The tall, skinny server, who couldn't be more than seventeen years old, and looked like he was trying to decide between spending his tips on flowers for his girlfriend or acne cream. The swarthy, well-tanned business woman at the copper-top bar who downed her espresso like a true Italian, and probably was one. The kid with the straw-like hair kicking his heels and slurping his 'babyccino' while his mama talked animatedly into her cellphone, probably to her own mama.
To say he was fond of this café was an understatement, and he made a mental note to thank Paula for introducing him to the place- it made a welcome change of pace after the silence of the loft. He woke his iPad up to check his emails and look up exactly how you should spell babyccino anyway- and it wasn't long after that that Paula burst in with a certain look on her face. The one Rick called 'Whatever She Asks For, Just Say No'.
"Ricky, baby, where have you been?" Sometimes he loved his agent's nasal Brooklyn tones. Today was probably not going to be one of those days.
"Oh, you know… hiding, mostly." He managed to conjure up a brief lopsided smile that earned him a ruffle to his hair.
Paula moved away to order herself a drink, still talking at him, "It'll be okay, I have the perfect escape for you."
"Oh goody," he whispered into a sip of lukewarm coffee.
"So! The tour! It starts on Saturday!" Rick nearly spat his coffee back out again.
"Saturday!?"
"Yeah, you agreed!" He pouted as if he'd forgotten. In fact, he was looking forward to getting out of the city. "You agreed to four weeks, actually. But…" Paula moved back over to the table and sat down, leaning in as if to conspire with him. "What would you say to six? You haven't done Canada in a while, and with the extra couple of weeks I could get you over to Hawaii for a few nights!"
He studied Paula's face carefully. Time was being kind to this woman, even if her dress sense wasn't. Beneath the sleek hair and the skin-tight eighties-throwback tops was a quick mind and open heart. Not forgetting the big mouth. "Yeah, okay."
She did a double-take. "That's all you got? 'Yeah, okay'? I gotta say, Ricky, I expected some kinda negotiation!"
He shrugged. "I want to get out the city for a while. Show me your ideas for the updated route. Will we get to every state in six weeks?"
"Ricky, baby, there's only forty-two days at the very most, and if you do some of Canada too, there's just no way we can make it to every state. I admire your enthusiasm though, you wanna be like this every time I tell you we're goin' on a tour?" He smirked. "Why are you so eager to get away from New York anyways?"
He glanced at the table top and took a steadying breath before meeting Paula's eye. "Kate and I broke up." She rested her hand on his forearm and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.
"Well, one love-erasing book tour comin' right up!" She grinned and opened her folder. "No signings or events in New York, 'cause you live here and you can do 'em any time. Same with the rest of the state, and New Jersey. So we're gonna start in Miami and work our way around the country…"
Together, they went through each day of the tour, Paula answering his questions. He plotted the route on his iPad to see if she'd made it into a dot-to-dot puzzle.
She hadn't, of course, but he lived for the day she finally did.
His meeting with Paula was the first human contact he'd had in a while, and he was surprised by how drained he felt upon his return to the loft. He had always been a people person, always gained energy from being around others and being the center of attention, so the lethargy and relief he felt surprised him significantly.
He wrote to Kate about it.
Writing to her had become his primary means of sorting through his own feelings. It was cathartic, like a journal, a task completed with the endless hope that maybe one day he would be able to share it with her.
The remainder of the week seemed to fly by. He had his routine, now, and was starting to feel like he had purpose once more. The solid weight around his heart remained, though- he was able to genuinely smile as he skyped with Alexis, listening to stories of her adventures and all the fascinating people and experiences she had encountered during her time away.
Friday night, however, was the low point of the week.
He had never enjoyed the tedium of packing, but part of his new life plan was taking his job seriously, even the unpleasant aspects. Six weeks was a long time to be away, and although it was often almost unbearably hot in New York over the summer, other parts of the country had such varying weather patterns that he had to be prepared for all contingencies.
He began with his garment bags, carefully selecting shirts suitable for public appearances, knowing the dimensions of his luggage well enough to know he could choose up to two week's worth of options, thereby minimising the amount of laundry or dry cleaning needed on the road.
Suits came next - a selection of blazers and dress pants. Then came the actual suitcase - jeans and sweats for times he was simply lolling about his hotel room. T-shirts, underwear, socks. A light jacket and a couple of sweaters.
Then there was his toiletry bag; he made sure to bring an extra bottle of everything, just in case, and fitted it neatly into his suitcase. Shoes went in on top, and other miscellaneous items found their places
Packing electronics took longer. Laptop, iPad, and phone (on the night stand for now) not only needed to be located, but all their accompanying accessories and cables needed to be packed appropriately, too. On a whim, he threw in a couple of paperbacks and a crossword puzzle book; chances were he wouldn't even look at them, but sometimes it was better to be prepared.
Finally, in the mesh panel in the lid of his suitcase, he slid three photos - Alexis as a little girl, a more recent picture of her with her grandmother, and one of Kate at the precinct, taken about a year back, her mouth turned up in her patented "I'm-not-smiling" smile.
He poured himself a glass of juice when he was done, trying to ignore the feeling that he was forgetting something.
The loft was so quiet, the silence almost pulsating around him.
He had never been more alone.
Taking the glass to his room with him, he savagely zipped up his baggage and arranged it in a pile he hopefully wouldn't trip over. Sitting on the bed, he stared at the pile, the emptiness of his home and his life screaming all around him.
Of its own accord, his hand reached for the phone on the bedside table, his thumb finding her name in the contact directory without any conscious command.
It was only then that he hesitated. What would he say to her?
What could he say?
Regardless of anything she had done, he had treated her abominably and then ignored her for weeks. Even if she took pity on him and answered the phone, then what?
There really was nothing. No excuse to offer. It wasn't her job to cheer him up on evenings like this where he was weak and lonely and pathetic and missing her.
Placing the phone back on his nightstand, he drained the last of his juice, took the glass back to the kitchen, and prepared for bed.
After all, he had a long six weeks ahead of him.
"Ricky, this private jet idea of yours was perfect." Paula raised her champagne glass to clink with his across the aisle of the small but comfortable airplane.
"Shame Black Pawn wouldn't pay for all of it, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. As much luggage as we want, and it's better than driving everywhere, or waiting around in tiny local airports where the air conditioning doesn't work."
"Oh, like that time in Hattiesburg, Mississippi? Urgh, I'd blocked that out of my memory until now, I'm getting sweaty just thinking about it." Rick laughed loudly, and then chuckled to himself until he realised he hadn't laughed at all since… since the break-up. He had another sip of champagne and watched the clouds go by outside the window, wondering if he wanted Paula to distract him from his thoughts or save him from a headache by being quiet. He finished his champagne and put the plastic 'glass' down before he leaned back in his seat and went back to cloud-spotting.
He had been effervescent and charming from the moment his car service had picked him up, working hard at carefully layering on the public persona that people expected of him. Paula had barely passed a comment, wrapped up in her job, and while it felt good to throw off a portion of the overwhelming grief he'd been battling for weeks, he was relieved when the conversation lagged. Cloud watching gave him a moment to himself, to think about Kate. He wondered how she would like coming on tour with him, whether it was something she would have eventually agreed to do, had their relationship not ended so abruptly.
If he thought it was hot in New York when they got on the plane, the temperature as they disembarked in Miami was stifling. He felt the sweat prickling across his chest and wrinkled his nose in distaste at the inevitable future discomfort of his shirt sticking to his skin.
"Come on, Ricky, get in the car!"
And so began the Summer book tour of 2013: from one oasis of air conditioning to another.
It took one look at the pool from his hotel room balcony for Rick to realise he'd left one rather important article of clothing from his suitcase.
He called out loudly to his left, "Paula?"
A muffled voice replied, "What, Ricky?" The sliding door of the room adjacent to his opened and the voice became clearer. "What?"
"I left my swim trunks in New York."
He liked coming to Miami on book tours. Especially at the start of book tours. A nice mixture of pretty young ladies and charming elderly gentlemen to sign books for, followed by laidback parties with fruity cocktails. Perhaps not so many of the latter this time around, nursing one drink a night would be enough to keep up the necessary façade. For now, he was merrily signing the front covers of whichever books his adoring fans put on the table, much quicker than opening up to the title page but not as satisfying.
"And what's your name?" he asked before looking up at the next person in the line.
"I'm Marlene! It's so great to finally meet you in person!" He hoped his mother would be proud of the fight he put up to hide his grimace. Marlene was a walking, talking, almost as plasticky, real life Barbie doll. Blonde and bright red lipstick, a skirt that was far too short and a top that was far too low. He knew exactly what she was about to say before she'd even begun to say it. "Would you sign my chest?"
Rick cleared his throat and took a copy of Storm Front from the pile on the table to sign. He handed it to the woman with a dull smile, "Thanks for coming today." Before she could even begin to protest, he'd moved on to the next person in line and a bookstore employee was guiding her away.
He reflected over the course of the final half hour of the signing that he should have known it was inevitable there'd be women of many chest sizes wanting their cleavage signed, and it had to begin somewhere. Rick had hoped they wouldn't start in the very first signing, but Lady Luck didn't seem to be with him of late. Paula whispered in his ear when there were a few people left in the queue that they'd wrap up in five minutes and he nodded. He couldn't wait to stretch his legs and get some time to himself.
"I got you some trunks, Ricky. I had the concierge put them in your room." He smiled at Paula in the hotel elevator.
"That's great, thanks. Might go and do some laps in the pool. We have time now, right?"
"Sure, the car will be here to pick you up for the mixer at eight."
"Just me?"
"Yeah, sorry Ricky, I do have other clients you know." He smirked. "Having said that, there's a couple of weeks you're gonna have to do alone, I have to go back to New York."
"It's okay, you told me, I remember."
"You'll be okay though, right? Be places on time and not forget stuff?" Castle turned to fix a raised eyebrow at her as the doors opened to their floor. "Yeah well, it's happened a few times, I just wanna make sure!"
"I'll be fine, Paula. You can make sure my bow tie is on straight before I go tonight if you like." She tapped his arm with her purse in amusement as he stopped at his door, rolling her eyes.
Rick let the door close quietly behind him. In the solitude he sighed and walked to the bag left on the bed by the concierge. He pulled the shorts out and lifted them up to inspect them. They seemed… smaller than his trunks at home. He held them to his waist and frowned before rolling his eyes and grunting in exasperation.
Paula was already waiting on her balcony, peeking around the divider, expecting him. "Paula, these are not board shorts."
"I know, but the shop was out of shorts, so I got you those. I don't know what you're worried about Rick, you can totally carry them off, and get a nice tan too."
"Yeah, a nice tan mostly all over except for a tiny strip that barely covers my ass. I might as well wear my boxers to swim, they'd cover more."
"Just be grateful it's not a thong, Ricky." She grinned impishly at him. "Besides, you always look good in navy blue." He glared at her as she ducked back to the safety of her room before he could throw the trunks in her face.
"Hey, Paula?" He knew there was a slight insecurity in his voice- and her head popped back into view. "Aren't I a bit flabby for these? I mean, I've been running more lately, but I haven't been to a gym in months, you know?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Are we seriously having this conversation?" He looked at her, perplexed, and her arm appeared around the balcony divider so she could gesture at him.
"Lift up your shirt a second." He frowned a little as he complied with both hands, revealing a trim waistline that a man half his age would be perfectly happy with, and although there wasn't much muscle definition in his lower torso, he was worrying over nothing.
Paula sighed dramatically. "What?" he asked, concerned.
"Look, I've never kept my opinion on your looks a secret, but let me say it again that I would not mind looking at that all day long. And, as your publicist, I insist there be photographic evidence at some point on this tour of you being so... so..."
"...so what?"
"Hot! I mean, god Rick, you're in your mid-forties and you don't look hardly a day over thirty! Be proud of your body, give the old ladies of Miami some eye candy!"
He ducked his head down in an attempt to hide his blush. He didn't want to think of the last time someone had complimented him and really meant it. That meant thinking about Kate, and he was doing so well on that front today. He'd only been missing her every other minute. "Thanks, Paula."
"Anytime, stud. Now get going to the pool, see if you can't find some over-sixty-year-old to put suntan lotion on your back!" He grinned and went back inside shaking his head.
"Where are we flying to now? I've forgotten." He was only half-joking. The combination of heat, a mild sunstroke, and a couple of fruity cocktails too many at the party last night were not conducive to a sharp memory before noon the day after.
"Texas, Ricky, keep up." Paula was flicking through something on her phone, and he leaned over slightly to try to get a look at it. His eyebrows shot up when he recognised the person in the photos.
"When did you take those pictures?"
"Yesterday, at the pool. I thought maybe it would help you see you have nothing to be ashamed of with those trunks." Rick wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or grateful as he plucked her phone from her grasp and began to look through the camera roll on her iPhone. As he scrolled from photo to photo he found himself thinking about sending one to Kate, like an electronic postcard, but then he realised how ridiculous that would be since he didn't even deserve to speak to her on the phone. Why would she even want a photo of him now they weren't together anyway?
"You took loads!" But Kate would have taken more, his treacherous mind provided, and he frowned at himself. "I'm going to delete some." She began to protest, but he cut her off. "Seriously Paula, you don't need twenty photos of me in swim trunks! That's taking it to a whole new level of stalking!"
She huffed in response and hid behind her magazine for the rest of the flight.
From Texas to Nebraska, Chicago to Denver, and almost every tiny airport in between, Rick got into the swing of the tour. He worked on Deadly Heat in the comfortable surroundings of the jet, continuing to lower Gina's blood pressure with his productivity levels and adherence to deadlines. His idle hours in anonymous hotels were rarely idle, and mostly spent in the complementary gyms with extortionately priced personal trainers working on his physique, stamina, and even some self-defence techniques when one of the trainers turned out to be a retired NYPD cop who thought Rook should be able to look after himself for a change. Castle decided the guy couldn't have been more right.
There was, of course, the one night in Vegas where Paula ended up taking all his money at the blackjack tables before promptly spending it on champagne and new Manolo Blahniks, but she was working hard and he'd have bought her a diamond bracelet if she had only asked. Not that he was going to tell her that, of course. But even with Paula around most of the time, he spent the majority of his time alone with his thoughts, which felt like an interminably long punishment.
It turned out there's only so much a guy could take of being recognised by fans in the breakfast room in the string of hotels that merged into one anonymous resting place. By the time he took down the post-it note labelled "SAN FRANCISCO" he'd left on the bathroom mirror the day before and put it in the netting in the top of his suitcase along with all the other city names from the last four weeks and the photos of Alexis, Martha, and Kate, he was two hundred percent ready for the sun, sand, and surf of Hawaii. Besides, he was excited to go and see where they'd filmed Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Jurassic Park. And Lilo & Stitch.
"Don't forget I need you on the beach in thirty minutes, Ricky, then you can go have your fun." Paula's parting shot in the breakfast room was loud enough to turn heads and he didn't even bother to repress the eye-roll and shrug it elicited. He was so over being places on time and having to preen for photoshoots. What he wouldn't give for a lazy morning in the loft when he didn't have to get dressed or fix his hair or have Paula put cover-up on him to disguise the bags under his eyes.
The sun was beginning to heat up when his bare feet hit the sand outside the beachfront hotel. His incredibly understated Hawaiian shirt billowed in the breeze as he walked directly to the sea to paddle in the waves. He watched three women out on the surf, paddling on their boards and waiting for the next wave, and let the sound of the ocean calm the cobwebbed crevices of the deepest corners of his mind. The waves broke differently here to the ones at the Hamptons and he catalogued the melodious sound carefully until Paula's Brooklyn twang floated across the air. As she neared him, her voice getting louder by the second as she rattled off instructions into her cellphone, he looked down to watch his toes disappearing into the wet sand, letting the vision ground him before he took a final deep breath to steel himself as the onslaught began.
"Come on, Ricky! Come meet the guys!"
He plastered on a smile and turned to meet three men who, on first glance, appeared to be on the USA beach volleyball team. But as they got to chatting a bit before the photographer showed up, Rick was glad to note they were actually just some normal guys who happened to be on the beach that morning. Bob was on vacation with his wife and son; Miguel said he was visiting friends, including David, an off-duty lifeguard, and the one who seemed to know the most about volleyball. As they chatted, David picked up the ball and began showing them all some moves. Paula hung back and directed the photographer over to shake hands with them all, who promised flattering copies for all three of them.
"Do I get flattering copies too?" Rick asked cheekily.
Paula scoffed as she approached the group, subtly checking him out from behind and silently praising her choice of swim shorts back in Miami. "You'll get flattering copy in the papers, Ricky, that's the point." He faked the grin for everyone, pretending he cared about the publicity. "Let's get this show on the road!"
The photographer set the guys up as necessary, and Rick was inordinately amused to see that he put Paula to work holding the reflective disk. There was a short stage-whispered conversation that he was too busy trying to spike the ball over the net to listen to, but the conclusion soon became obvious. "Alright, it's getting pretty hot out here in the sun, guys, shirts off. Let's see if we can gather a crowd too." Paula somehow found more people than Bob's family, and Miguel and David's friends, and during a water and sunscreen break the photographer was busy politely moving people around to get a good background behind Rick.
"Are photoshoots always like this, Rick?" Bob enquired as he passed the sunscreen bottle over.
"First time I've had a shoot on a beach, but no, they're not usually like this. There's usually more posing involved, it gets tedious really quickly." Bob nodded sympathetically, and as Rick rubbed sunscreen over the firm muscles of his torso he wondered if there was a smidgen of pity mixed in as well. He decided against telling the anecdote of Cosmo's Heat Wave photoshoot in the precinct, because even though he figured they'd probably appreciate a story involving busty blondes he didn't think he would appreciate it. Nothing like learning a bit of self-respect along with lifting weights to really make a man grow up.
"Come on, Bob," Miguel piped up, "let's get ready to whip these boneheads into shape!" He and Bob crossed under the net, high-fiving each other in some kind of team morale boost that made David laugh as he replied.
"Shut up, man, we're gonna beat your a-"
"-not in front of the kids!" Rick shouted back, and David laughed even harder.
"Just for that, we're serving first!"
Within minutes, Rick had forgotten the photographer was even there. He'd blocked out the cheers of the crowd everything had narrowed down to the bubble created by the line of people around the marked out court in the sand. He was so in the zone, so focussed on beating Bob and Miguel into a pulp with a volleyball, he almost felt like he did when he was in a writing daze and twenty minutes of play passed in the blink of an eye.
With the score an even twenty-one apiece, David moved in for a dig to set up the spike, hoping that Rick would win them the point. Suddenly, Rick saw a whirl of brunette hair out of the corner of his eye, putting his whole body and mind on alert as all he could think was, 'Kate!' He turned to get a better look, only to find it was a woman he didn't know and not Kate at all. David called his name to get his attention, but it was too late: the ball bounced right off his head and over the net, and the impact startled him onto his knees.
"You okay, man?" David was by his side quickly, and Rick recovered quickly enough to take the opportunity to thump him in the arm.
"What was that pass?" He laughed and rubbed his hand over the spot the ball had hit, messing up his hair as he glanced back at the woman he had mistaken for Kate.
"Who cares, they didn't return it, so we got the point!" David offered his hand for a high-five with a grin and Rick obliged before he was helped to stand. "Let's win these next three so we can get out of the sun for a cold one."
As the light in the seatbelt sign went out, Castle got up and lifted his hands over his head to release his vertebrae and stretch his abdominal muscles. He caught Paula slyly watching his t-shirt ride up to reveal the tanned skin and thin line of dark hair that disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. Deciding to bring her fantasies down a few notches, he let out a disgustingly loud belch, and grinned when she rolled her eyes and quickly turned her head to look out the window instead.
"I'm gonna call Alexis," he told her as he walked to the other end of the cabin, her dismissive wave the only reaction. He sat down and picked up the plane phone to place the call. The line quality wasn't fantastic but when his daughter picked up on the fifth ring it was totally worth it.
"Hello?"
"Hi pumpkin!"
"Dad! Hi! Oh my God! Where are you!?"
Rick laughed at Alexis' exuberant greeting, "Flying somewhere over the border. Left Toronto a little while ago and we should be landing in Burlington in about an hour."
"And you're back in the city tomorrow?"
"Yeah, the last thing for the tour is the lunch I have to speak at, it's for the League of Vermont Writers, and then I'll be on my way home." He let out a heavy sigh. "I can't wait to see you, pumpkin, I've missed you so much."
"I know, Dad. I miss you too. But Costa Rica was amazing! And I brought back souvenirs for you and Grams." He hears her muffling the phone before she speaks again. "Grams just came in, do you want to speak to her too?"
"Sure, okay. Hey, Alexis?"
"Yeah?"
"When I get back, let's have a homecoming dinner. I've been craving a Pumpkin pizza for the last two weeks." His daughter laughed and the sound filled in the tiny fissures in his heart as he smiled.
"You got it, Dad, I'll make the pizza dough in the morning. Here's Grams." He could hear her passing the phone over and the familiar click-clack of his mother's jewellry tapping the house phone's handset.
"Richard, darling, how are you?"
"Tired, mother. Looking forward to getting home and buying some new shirts that actually fit me."
"I'm sure, I'm sure. Is Paula behaving herself?" He let his incredulous laugh be his answer and she chuckled. "You can tell her those pictures of you and your beach friends were simply divine, Richard you look twenty years younger than when you left."
Alexis jumped in, "And I've had about a hundred requests from girls at school asking for copies!" He cringed and cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He heard a beep and the acoustic changed, he knew it as the sound of being put on speakerphone at the kitchen counter. "But mostly because of the guy who was on your side of the net," she sighed dramatically. "He was dreamy!"
His barked laugh almost drowned out his mother's next statement. "Oh, that reminds me! You'll never guess who I just bumped into earlier when I stopped to get a coffee on my way to the school, Richard…"
"No, mother, you'll have to tell me." Her dramatic pause lasted longer that expected, and he guessed that Alexis was trying to find out who before he did. "...Mother?"
"Well, I… darling, it was Katherine." She had the good grace to not sound excited or conspiratorial, but his silence spoke volumes and after a few excruciating seconds she did her best to fill it. "She was surprised to see me."
Rick finally recovered his voice. "How did she look?"
"Tired. Exhausted, even. She said it was her first day off in three weeks, apparently they've been busy at the precinct." When he didn't reply, she took it as permission to continue. "I told her you were away, and she said she saw the photos. Oh, and she asked after you, Alexis, so I told her about the postcard you sent me. I even asked her to sit down in one of those divine sofas they have so we could chat, but she was on a mission. Probably had her eye on one of those boutique shops further along Grand Street, I'm sure. She used to like those, a bit away from Broadway for my tastes but still, très chic."
By now, Alexis was worried that he had put the phone down to stop from hearing any more. "Dad? Are you still there?"
His reply was a thin and slightly watery affirmative, followed by him clearing his throat again before he continued, "Thanks for telling me, Mother. Listen, I have to go, I have some work to do before we land, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."
"Love you, Dad."
"Love you too, Pumpkin. Bye, Mother."
"Goodbye, darling."
He placed the phone in the cradle and watched the clouds, allowing himself a few minutes of letting his tears fall silently onto his cheeks and wallowing in memories of Kate before he shook it off and returned to his seat.
The elevator doors whispered excitedly at 10.56am as they opened onto the offices of Black Pawn to reveal the publishing house's golden goose, Richard Castle, looking like an all-American James Bond in his brand new two-piece suit from Tom Ford on Madison Avenue. A handkerchief that matched the light blue of his shirt peeked out of his breast pocket and the merest hint of a smile was on his face as he shifted his brown leather briefcase from his right hand to his left and stepped into the reception area. The receptionist looked up from her computer and immediately stood up to greet him, "Good morning, Mr Castle!"
He nodded to her, feeling her eyes rake over him appreciatively as he tried to glance at the schedule on her desk. "Good morning, Miss Steinbern. Where is my meeting today?" He tried not to laugh at how flustered she was when he smiled at her, sometimes it was nice to know he still had it.
"Oh, um, ah... conference room 'B', Mr Castle. I'll call Ms Griffin to let her know you're here."
"No no, there's no need for that. You know how much she loves surprises, Lauren." He walked away to his left, leaving her to refute his statement to the thin air.
As Rick turned the corner he could hear Gina in her corner office, giving orders to the unsuspecting intern framed by the door. "Make sure you have that projections sheet printed off, we need a copy each, and I want to actually be able to read it this time. Richard will be late, so you should have enough time to get that done." She dismissed the intern with a wave, and the girl closed the office door before she turned to go, nearly bumping into Rick in the process and dropping one of the books she was carrying.
"Oh! Mr Castle! Sorry, I didn't know you were there!"
He picked up the book, the newest one by Geoff Adams, one of the other authors the publishing house represented, and handed it back to her with a smile. "Don't worry about it. I didn't catch your name."
"I'm Amanda." She recovered enough to offer her hand, which he shook firmly.
"Nice to meet you."
"Thanks… I, uh, I need to go run something off for your meeting," she smiled sheepishly.
"So I heard. Don't rush, you've got a couple of minutes."
"Yeah, I'll see you in there." He gave her a smile as she rushed to another side of the offices.
Castle rubbed his hands together with conspiratorial glee before he composed himself, smoothed out his suit and navy blue tie, and knocked timidly on Gina's door, trying to make it sound like Amanda had come back.
"What?!" Gina's voice pierced through the door momentarily before she threw it open, the thunder immediately dropping from her face when she looked up from the broad chest at her eye level to find the easy smirk of her ex-husband. Her immaculately put together, suit straining to conceal his taut muscles, beautifully tanned, coiffed, and clean-shaven, ex-husband. He could hear the expletives in her mind as clearly as if she had spoken them aloud. "You're…" Rick quirked his eyebrow, the smirk intensifying.
"...Yes?"
"Early. You're early." Damn, she'd recovered. He'd hoped for an uncensored verbal reaction, but the widened eyes and appreciative gasp would have to suffice. "Since when are you ever early to a meeting with me?"
"Since I figured out it could cause you to have a minor medical emergency."
She shook her head and turned away from him to get a pen and some papers from her desk. He laughed quietly and moved next door to the conference room. Paula had arrived in the meantime and she was setting herself up at the far end of the table with her back to the glass corridor when he walked in. "Ricky, is that a new suit?"
"Yeah, none of my old ones fit right." She smiled in reply as he undid his blazer button and sat down at the middle of the long table facing the door, putting his briefcase down and taking a notepad and pen from it. Two guys entered and took the two chairs nearest the door. The one who Rick recognised as Simon from Finance sat opposite him, and another who introduced himself as 'CJ the marketing director' sat closest to the head of the table where they knew Gina would sit. He struck Rick as a pompous ass, and he took an immediate dislike to him.
"Simon, how's the family?"
"They're well, thanks for asking Mr Castle. Josie was six last week, she had a cowboys party, and of course Will wanted to dress up as the sheriff. She's so good to her little brother though, she let him be the sheriff." He showed Rick his iPad with a photo of his kids in their outfits and Rick grinned.
"Now I know what I'm doing for my next birthday party!" They laughed and he caught Paula shaking her head in amusement as Gina marched in, Amanda hot on her heels. They both sat down, the former with more poise than the latter, and Rick helped Amanda catch her pen before it fell off the table.
"Okay, let's get started." Amanda was handing out some sheets of paper with a meeting agenda and lists of numbers on that Rick glanced at briefly before putting them beneath his notebook. "Paula, could you give a summary about the tour? Then Simon can give us an overview of the impact on sales."
Two presentations and thirty minutes later, Paula gathered her things and left the meeting, heading to another engagement across town. Sadly for Rick, however, the next item on the agenda was the cover art for Deadly Heat, and he did his best to endure CJ's self-important droning, talking about the designs as if he was the one who had actually submitted them. He tore a sheet from his notebook and began to doodle an unflattering likeness of Gina, complete with power suit, big hair, devil horns and a forked tail, which he signed with a flourish when she was busy looking at colour options, and passed it to Amanda. She had trouble holding in her smile and he grinned cheekily back as she slipped the page into her folder.
"Richard, I think it comes down to these two, which do you prefer?" Gina holds up the two plates with mock-ups of the cover for him to look at.
"Can I…?" He reached out and she passed them to him. He held them next to one another, taking in the lime green design, with a creepy close-up of an eye that made him want to re-write the book to include a Godzilla-style monster, followed by the bright magenta with the much less obvious bio-hazard symbol and music staves behind Nikki's silhouette. "I like the colour of the green, it really pops out at you, but the design of the pink is more simple, I prefer that." He looked over them again with a frown. "Do I have to decide right now?"
CJ piped up before Gina could reply, "No, Mr Castle, you take them home and have a long old think about it if you want, but we'll really need to know by start of play tomorrow to work up the hi-res design and get it to the printers."
"That's not exactly a long time to think about it…" He looked to Gina for support, and was grateful when he saw her eyes narrow and mouth become a thin line as she hummed in reply.
"CJ, it won't matter if it doesn't get to the printers for a few days. The cover sheets are printed separately to the hardbacks and I've only just sent the manuscript over for the galleys. Richard, can you get back to CJ by… hmm, a week on Friday?"
"Sure," he replied before CJ could muster a response about how that was eleven days away, with the immense satisfaction of getting one up on the pompous ass.
They finished up with the meeting and CJ disappeared with his tail between his legs, ignored by Gina, who was rattling off instructions to Amanda. The intern studiously wrote everything down before gathering her large pile of files and books and heading out the door that Simon was holding open for her, leaving Rick and Gina to slowly sort out their own things and begin to make their way out.
"Hey, Rick?" She spoke softly to catch his attention and they stopped near the doorway as he held the door ajar. "How're you doing?"
He was surprised by her gentle enquiry, and he decided that she of all people deserved honest, if carefully worded truth all the same. "I… I'm getting there. It was tough for a while, but getting away from the city helped a lot. And seeing Alexis again after two months was like a balm to my soul." He gave her a small, lopsided smile as he put his briefcase down and fiddled with his cufflinks. "How about things here? Paula told me she interrupted you on a date when she was back during the tour, tell me how it went?" She blushed, and Rick's smile grew warm and toothy, making his eyes crinkle. "Oh, he's that good huh?"
"Shut up, Rick. It's going well. Brad's a nice guy, we met through mutual friends last year. He's not in publishing, thank God, so there's no shop talk when we go out, but he's kind, and attentive, and he makes me want to be all those cliché things and more. We've been dating seriously for a couple of months now…" she tailed off with a dreamy smile on her face and he couldn't help but chuckle.
"I'm happy for you, Gina. Sincerely." He reached over to squeeze her shoulder with a smile that he wiped off his face when she looked him in the eye. "But if he ever does anything to hurt you… anything… I will kill him." He cleared his throat, "Well, in print."
She laughed and stepped into his embrace with a familiarity and finality that made Rick feel like he'd finally finished all the edits in that chapter of his private, happy for their relationship to just be close-knit work colleagues once more. He smiled at her as he stepped back, opening his mouth to change the subject.
That was when the loud crack of a gunshot startled the air around them.
Thoughts?