The Publicist's Plight (Book I in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Fifty Two: Schoolgirl Lingo

"That's bullshit. And you know it."

I sigh. "Alright. Something came up and I had to...go see someone. I ended up staying the night and now I'm at the hospital visiting the baby."

Sarah starts laughing; shit is soon about to hit the fan. "I just find it funny how every time you disappear off somewhere, Leslie is right behind you. Tell me why that's so?"

I think a while before replying: "Coincidence?"

Lucas is shouting in the background with the sound of screaming kids. I already know Sarah is having less that fun right now.

"Look, I'm not one to usually nit-pick at everything you do, but the fact that you and Leslie have been secretive these past three weeks is really starting to bother me. I let it go at first, but now it's like you guys have your own secret coven or something."

"Trust me, Sarah, I wish I could tell you everything, but now really isn't a good time."

"You aren't fucking her, are you?"

"What? No!"

"You want to?"

I picture the sinister smirk on her face, paired with the arch of her brow that she does when she trying to pry something out of me. She laughs when silence is on my end.

"Don't worry, I won't make you answer that. Leslie already dreamt it anyw—"

Sarah sucks in a sharp breath, like she said something she wasn't supposed to say.

"Wait, what did you just say?"

"What do you mean?"

Now she's playing dumb. "Sarah, don't do this. Leslie dreamt what?"

"She didn't dream anything. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sarah."

"It's not in my jurisdiction to say!" she says with a raised voice. "I already said too much already."

"You're the main one talking about secretive shit not being O.K. And I'm starting to lose my patience."

"It was so long ago. It doesn't even matter anymore."

"How long is long ago?"

"Possibly...maybe around the time we went to Seattle."

I roll my eyes. "That isn't a long time ago, Sarah."

"It actually is if you—"

"What was the dream about?"

"Um...well...there was a certain dream, of course, that was...dreamt, about a certain heir to a billion-dollar company. And this dream was dreamt by a certain unnamed publicist. And this dream was not...appropriate."

It takes me a while until I put the pieces together.

"Leslie had a wet dream about me?" I clarify to her.

"I did not say that!"

Like the grimy bastard I am, I start smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. That explains why she was acting so odd that one morning in my mom's kitchen when she was choking on a banana, and after that when she claimed she was on her period; every time she saw me, she thought of how I looked or acted in the dream she had. Or maybe she thought of what I was doing to her in that dream.

"Don't blow your ego up, shithead. It was just a dream."

"A sex dream," I add. "About me. Specifically."

"Jesus Christ. Now I have you on cloud nine over a dream that I'm sure thousands of women have had about you before."

"Yeah, but this is...different," I bite my lip, suppressing a wider grin. "What exactly could I have done to her in that dream that would have made her so uncomfortable the next day?"

"I doubt that dream was a threesome, so there's no use in asking me for the details like I was there, too."

"Well you're the one who told me."

Sarah groans. "This isn't fair. You know how I am with keeping my mouth shut, but then you make it worse by forcing the truth out of me like that. God, I feel horrible."

"Which is why I'm surprised she told you."

"Look, you were at your tux fitting and she was all tensed up, and she told me about it and how she diddled her fiddled and felt disgusting about it—"

"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupt. "She diddled her what?"

"Fuck!" Sarah shouts. "I'm hanging up. Forget I said anything. Christ!"

And then she actually hangs up.

Sarah was right about one thing—my ego is blown to the roof. I'll admit, I've had women approach me before, telling me that they've had "dreams" about me. But it's different, knowing this dream came from Leslie. There's a pent up contentment within me about this, I'll tell you. But I'm still confused:

What the fuck does 'diddle her fiddle' mean?

Is that some sort of school-girl lingo? Because I'm surprised I haven't heard of that before.

I decide to google it, and once I stumble across the first result, my jaw drops.
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