Page 80 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“About us. That we’re…going to Homecoming together.”

I look up at his handsome face and see that patented Disney Channel star expression—so earnest and yet playful.

“Well, I would love to. But I think we should wait until I’m not working for you anymore. So it’s less confusing.”

“For them or for you?”

“Both.”

“Are you confused?”

“About you? Never. Not when I’m with you, anyway.That’s the problem. I always feel so sure of things, even though I can’t really know for sure.”

“What’ll it take for you to know for sure? Because I don’t dress up as Greyson Manning and buy lube for everyone. You’re the first, since the show was cancelled, and hopefully the last.”

I tug on that skinny tie around his neck and bring his lips to mine.

“I just want to finish being your nanny before I’m officially something else. Okay?”

He nods once, eyes closed. “You really are something else, though,” he whispers. “I wish I could have taken you to Homecoming. And prom. And the Kids’ Choice Awards. And the Golden Globes. And my movie premieres. I wish I could have taken you to France.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?”

“Yes. And no.”

“You know where you can take me now?” I ask as I unbutton his shirt.

“Where? Name it and I’ll take you there.”

“Bed.”

“You really are a swell girl.”

We hadto leave that amazing bed in Santa Barbara eventually, and now that we’re back in the Pacific Palisades and I don’t have to look after the kids, I am using my free time to visit a few of the fancy boutiques in the village to see if the owners will stock a few bottles of my perfume oil. The first attempt was a bust, even though the lady seemed to really love thefragrance and was super interested in hearing about my Scent Design and Creation degree and the education of a perfumer in general. I left her with samples, a business card, and a pamphlet that I had printed up—with my logo and pretty pictures and little stories about my fragrances and the ingredients. It’s a great package. I’m a great package! I just don’t get LA store owners. How many more degrees does a girl need to get a break around here?

Now I’m in a pretty shop that sells fashionable organic clothing and handmade jewelry as well as a small selection of scented candles, organic cosmetics and perfume. If any shop in this neighborhood should be selling Aura perfume oils, it’s this one. I do a lap around the store, looking at the displays. A tanned blonde woman who is probably in her fifties comes by to welcome me and asks if she can help me with anything, and miracle of miracles—she tells me that I smell amazing.

I tell her that it’s my own perfume blend called Sleeper and that I just happen to have a sample of it right here. I ask if she’s the owner of the store, and she is. I don’t launch into a hard sell or anything. It’s very conversational, and Christina seems really interested. She asks to see the bottles and loves everything she smells. But when I ask if she’d be interested in carrying a few bottles of each fragrance in her store, she says she’s not really looking to stock more perfume right now.

And then I hear the bell above the door jingle, and when the lady looks over my shoulder, her face lights up. “Well hello, stranger!” she says, hand on her hip. “Long time no see, you!”

I glance over to get a look at who she’s ignoring mefor, and wouldn’t you know it? Shane Miller is strolling towards us, lifting his aviator glasses to the top of his head and grinning. “Been waiting for a special occasion to buy a new dress. You know how it is.”

“Ohhh! I mean I haven’t seen you at breakfast in ages. The kids on spring break?”

“They are, yeah. I was just checking on Willa.” He comes over to put his arm around me. I don’t have a fucking clue how he found me here, but I did tell him I was going to scout out the boutiques in the Palisades. “Oh, you got your perfumes out.”

“Yeah. Do we have to get ready for your screening?”

“No, we have a little time. Are you going to be stocking Willa’s perfume here, Christina? They’re selling like hotcakes on Etsy. She just sold a fragrance design to Margo—they’re going to sell it on her website later this year.”

“Well, we were just discussing that, actually. They smell fantastic, and I’m very interested. Let’s discuss prices.”

And just like that, Christina and I are discussing prices and filling out paperwork.

When I leave the store with Shane, I’m carrying nine fewer bottles of roll-on perfume oil than I had walked in with.

I wait until we’ve turned the corner and started walking back toward home to slap his arm. “How did you know I’d be there?”