Eric comes out of his office and over to my desk. "Well it looks like you've sorted through that mess from yesterday."

"Almost..." I close the drawer full of radio station contracts where I just filed away the last paper from this morning's stack.

He looks at his Rolex. "I can't remember the last time I stayed until five on a Friday in the summer! Anything else I need to sign before I get out of here?"

"Nope. You can take off whenever."

I, on the other hand, have at least another hour of loose ends to tie up before I can leave. Devoid of distractions, I'm hoping to get it all done in thirty minutes. Luckily the office is mostly desolate. But Miranda is still at her desk, killing time before she meets some folks from MOPIC out for drinks. Odds are she will interrupt me with questions or gossip.

Eric nods. "Okay. Have a nice weekend Millie. You too Miranda."

She looks over her shoulder and bats her eyes. "Will I see you at Holden's show tomorrow? Millie's going next weekend. So that means you're going to opening night, right?"

He smiles and runs a hand through his hair. "I am indeed. See you then."

Miranda flips her high ponytail and then turns toward her computer again as Eric walks away. Staring at her back I wonder if there's something going on between them that I've missed over the past few weeks.

My phone dings the reminder for my waxing, bringing me out of my contemplation.

I'm never going to make the appointment in time. The bright-side is that I'm better off plucking the errant hairs from my eyebrows, rather than get red and irritated for tonight. Obviously I wasn't thinking clearly when I scheduled everything in a rush last night. My hands tremble as I look through my contacts for the salon's number so I can cancel.

Miranda interrupts me. "Are you looking at what I'm looking at?"

"Depends on what you're looking at, but probably not." I clench my right hand a few times to try to steady it, and then proceed with my scrolling.

"When I heard your phone, I just figured you had a Google alert set for Fin's name."

Her voice rises in a sing song. "You should take a look at what popped up."

My hands start to quake even more, so I put my phone down and turn my chair towards her with a loud squeak. "What now?"

Miranda smiles and arches a brow at me. "Don't worry, it's good. Looks like you'll be getting a gift. Fin paid a little visit to Tiffany & Co. today."

That's my cue to abandon ship before I spill the big secret. The work will keep until Monday morning. I'll just come in an hour earlier to finish it all.

I turn back to my desk to kick off my heels beneath and put on my flats. "Really Miranda, he could buy something for anyone there. His brother just got into town today. Maybe he was getting him a pen or a tie clip."

I stand up and grab my purse from the overhead cabinets. "And might I add that it's a little weird that you have an alert set for Fin's name on your phone."

"I doubt that he's getting something for Paul, since he accompanied Fin to the store. And of course I have the alert set to keep an eye out for you Millie. I'm hurt that you would be suspicious of me." Miranda puts her hand over her heart.

Staying up half of last night as I picked out Fin's ring, plus ordered dresses and shoes to be rush shipped to the hotel for today, is officially catching up to me. My brain feels like mush. I massage my temples. "I'm sorry. I just..."

But before I can deflate the situation anymore, Lewis walks into our division holding out my chilled champagne. "Special delivery for Miss Millie! I figured you'd want this before I left for the weekend."

"Oh thanks so much Lew! I almost forgot." The claddagh on my thumb clicks loudly against the glass as I grip it.

He hangs onto the neck of the bottle and turns it in our hands to get a better look at what made the noise. "New ring?"

Once again I stick to partial truths. "Old ring... a family heirloom actually."

My heartbeat pulses into my throat when I realize that after tonight this statement will be completely true.

Lewis looks for a second longer before letting go. "Did you know that Fin Covington had one on just like that the other day when he was here?"

The bottle suddenly weighs a ton. I turn to put it on my desk. "No, I um... I didn't realize that."

His Southern drawl speaks to my back. "Seems like such nice young man. He took everyone's hand that he passed. He's got a solid grip."

There's something about those words that make me feel less tremulous. Or maybe it's just the measured tone that he says them in, so different from the way anyone from New York speaks.

I turn to Lewis with a smile. "Nice and solid. That's the impression I got too."

Miranda chimes in. "Well his reputation says otherwise. But I bet he's a lot of fun to spend some time with while a girl can."

Lewis looks at Miranda and shakes his head. "Bless your pea-pickin little heart! I've been behind-the-scenes long enough to see that the press don't know whether to check their ass or scratch their watch most of the time. And with social media adding to the publicity machine, journalistic integrity has all but dropped dead. Anyone can piss on the public's leg, tell them it's raining and make money while they're at it. The name of the game now is who can sell their info and tell their stories the fastest."

He points at me. "Lots of celebrities are slicker than snot on a doorknob, but they usually aren't the ones that bother to stop and shake the hand of the man who's rolling the catering cart through their agency's hallways."

A cold sweat begins along my hairline, like the beads of condensation that roll down the surface of the bottle on my desk. I reach out to touch one. "Snot on a doorknob... That's quite the saying."

Lewis chuckles. "Oh you know Southerners. We just love a tidy little maxim, something our grandmamas can cross-stitch onto the pillows where we rest our heads at night."

I wish I could laugh along with Lewis, but Miranda's face is twisted and pinched like she sucked on a lemon, and I don't want her to think that I'm laughing at her expense. Obviously she didn't like being reprimanded by the normally reserved gentleman. My guess is that she wasn't corrected much by her elders growing up. Personally, I appreciate the advice from almost anyone old enough to be my grandparent.

"So then let me ask you Lew, as the RAA authority on old adages, does the saying 'actions speak louder than words' apply when it comes to actors?"

Rocking back on his heels, he stretches his turtle-green suspenders out with his thumbs. "Honey, in this industry you should always pay closer attention to what the people around you do, and not necessarily what they say."

He releases the elastic with a snap before he pats at his belly. "The two things that I always trust my gut on, are food and men."

Now I join him in a chuckle. "Luckily enough, those happen to be two of my favorite things in life."

"Mine too. That's why I'm fixin to leave and enjoy my weekend with both." He winks.

"You know what? I'm 'fixin' to leave as well." I grab my bag and bottle before powering down the computer.

Lewis links his arm around mine and leans in with a whisper. "Girl, sometimes you just gotta git while the gittin is good!"

Then he tosses a glance back to Miranda. "Have fun out with the MOPIGS."

We get into the lobby and Lewis waves at the receptionists before holding the door open for me. The elevator is already there.

As the doors close behind us I finally decide to double check what I heard. "Did you say MOPIGS just before?"

He pushes the button for the ground level. "Yes ma'am. That's my little pet name for those assistants because they love to dish the dirt. That crew is always mucking about in other people's business. Not to mention that someone's always rutting around with someone else up there. If you catch my meaning..."

"Oh I certainly get it! That nickname is perfection!" I start to laugh.

But Lewis doesn't join me. "Just remember Millie. Pigs are smart and they can be vicious. They'll eat up just about anything that you give them. In fact they can make an entire human body disappear. Try not to get trapped in the mud of the pigpen."

I stop laughing. "I'll try my best."