Solo and the City || Season One: Lights, Camera, Action

Chapter Seven

The next morning, Robin put on a navy blue business suit with a yellow blouse and shoes and grabbed a red purse to match the red glasses she'd purchased. Carrie had convinced her to get frames in multiple colors so she didn't always have to wear black, and she had to admit that it had been a good idea. She liked matching.

She met Samantha at Penelope, one of the hottest brunch spots in the city. Samantha had made a reservation, so they were able to walk right in. Robin immediately ordered an espresso. She needed something to get her through this day, even though it had barely even started.

Samantha ordered one too, then raised an eyebrow at her. "Rough night?" she wondered.

"Not the way you think," Robin sighed.

"You're still stewing over Napoleon, aren't you?" Samantha remarked, pulling a newspaper out of her purse.

"I know you don't approve," Robin explained.

"I'm not mad, honey," Samantha assured her. "I just think that he doesn't deserve your time if he doesn't realize how amazing you are."

Robin smiled genuinely. "I appreciate it, Samantha."

"Unfortunately, the paper doesn't realize it yet either," Samantha huffed, flipping to a page and showing Robin.

It was the picture the photographer had taken of her and Napoleon. Robin read the caption. "Napoleon Solo and friend," she mused.

"And friend," Samantha repeated, annoyed. "You're famous too."

"Well, the photographer did ask for a picture of Napoleon," Robin reminded her. "I just happened to be there."

Their drinks were delivered, and they paused to give their orders. Then Samantha grinned and flipped to another page of the paper. "That was the bad news. Luckily, there's good news too. Look at the headline."

The photo of her and Napoleon had been in the entertainment section. This was the style section. She read aloud again. "Author Robin Ballard proves that plus-size and high fashion can mix."

There was a photo of her with a caption identifying the dress. "Well, that's not bad at all," she said brightly.

"No, it's not," Samantha agreed proudly. "You'll be more recognizable in no time. It's my job, after all."

"And you're doing it fantastically," Robin praised her. Then she tilted her head curiously. "How many articles do you think there are going to be about plus-size women ruining high fashion after this?"

Samantha waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Don't worry about that. Let them talk shit. You're fabulous and now everyone knows it."

"And I will continue to be," Robin promised.

But she couldn't help flipping back to the first picture as they waited for their food. She traced the word friend thoughtfully with her finger.

Without missing a beat, Samantha reassured her. "You look like you belong together, sweetie. They definitely should have thought you were a couple."

Robin closed the paper and nodded her thanks. "All right," she decided as the waitress set plates down in front of them both. "Let's talk business."

First, though, she dug into her blueberry pancakes, bacon, and home fries. She immediately moaned. "This blueberry compote is so good," she observed.

"Everything here is," Samantha joined in, popping a piece of melon from her fruit, granola, and yogurt bowl into her mouth. "Totally worth it. Now, I've got a whole calendar of events for you this month, and we need to figure out what you might wear to each one."

They spent the next half hour discussing just that. Robin had to admit that she felt a lot better about getting some work done, so she was certainly in higher spirits than she had been when she said goodbye to Samantha and headed back home.

But yesterday was still bothering her. Napoleon had acted so strangely, and the caption in the paper hadn't increased her confidence, even though she knew he'd had nothing to do with it.

Still, she was going to try to not let it get in the way of her productivity anymore. As soon as she arrived at her apartment, she headed to her closet to figure out the finer points of some of the outfits she and Samantha had selected, and to make a list of other clothing she might need, even though it seemed inconceivable that there were gaps in her already giant wardrobe.

She was sidetracked by her phone ringing, and she changed directions to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Robin. I'm glad I caught you. I thought you might be out."

"Napoleon?" she asked.

She thought the surprise was evident in her voice, but he artfully ignored it. "Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't spend more time with you yesterday."

His tone was tight, like he was waiting for her to call him out on his lie. And part of her very much wanted to. But her insecurity was high, and questioning him might ruin whatever was about to happen, so she held her tongue. About that, at least.

"It's all right. We just ran into each other. I understand."

She could feel him relax on the other end of the phone. His next words were much brighter. "I have a night off next week. I was hoping to invite you to my apartment and make you dinner. We can get to know each other better. And I have questions about the latest book I finished," he teased.

She giggled in spite of her misgivings about the day before. "Well, hopefully I have answers for you, Mr. Solo," she replied archly. "I'd love to have dinner with you. Just tell me when and where."

"Excellent. I really can't wait, Robin. Please know that."

"I believe you, Napoleon," she told him sincerely.

"I'm afraid I must go for now, but I'll try to call before our date if I can."

"I'd like that. Have a good day."

"You too."

She hung up and leaned against the wall, resting her palm over her pounding heart. On one hand, she was very excited that he had called and asked to see her again. On the other, the previous day was still nagging at her. There had to be a reason for the way he had behaved. It wasn't just that he'd been having a bad day, either. It was something else, something deeper.

But she couldn't figure it out, mostly because she had no place to start. The evidence was so contradictory. He clearly wanted to see her again, which meant it wasn't that he didn't like something about her. And with that erased from the board of possibilities, she really had no idea what else it could be.

She didn't like not knowing. That meant that she was going to turn it over too much in her mind, especially since she had a week to think about it. And she didn't know if the topic was going to be available when they spoke again. By not bringing it up today, she might have missed her window and allowed them both to just gloss over it.

"I need reinforcements," she muttered to herself, picking up the phone and dialing Carrie's number. When the other woman picked up, Robin declared, "I need help with clothes and men. Samantha needs a month of outfits and Napoleon called."

"I'm on my way and I'm bringing croissants and coffee," Carrie informed her.

"You're the best," Robin laughed before hanging up her phone yet again.

She was a grown woman. She didn't need to moon over a man, even if the man was famous, handsome movie star Napoleon Solo. She was going to work and have a lovely day with her friends and that was that.

She took a deep breath and went to change into something more comfortable, wishing that it were really as easy as simply saying that to herself.