Baumgartner generations: Janie

But I'm curious…you never…together?” I jerked my thumb back toward the bedroom, where Catherine was still asleep. “I mean…you'd think, you know, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em?"

He shook his head. "It's her thing, not mine."

"But you're okay with it?” I took another gulp of coffee and waited for his response. My head was getting slightly clearer. Besides, the coffee was fantastic. Josh was looking past me, and he was quiet so long I almost turned around, thinking there was someone or something there, but then he shook his head as if to clear it and turned to me.

"I love Catherine.” He smiled, looking apologetic. “And Catherine loves women."

Which wasn’t, I thought, exactly the same thing as being okay with it. It made me sad. And it made me think of Ronnie and TJ, who had always made me feel like it was all okay, that they both wanted and loved me. It never felt strange or awkward or wrong with us.

"I'm a nanny," I said, picking up on his earlier question and trying hard to change the subject. His smile said he knew it, and I think he was even a little grateful. "I live-in.

Beth is seven. She’s in second grade. And I guess there's another one on the way now…"

My voice trailed off. I’d almost forgotten-Ronnie was going to have a baby. It still wasn’t real to me.

"Do you like it?" He reached over and grabbed the pot of coffee to top off his cup.

"Sure." I held my mug out for more, too. "I mean, I don't want to do it forever, but…" I shrugged.

"So what do you want to do?" He poured more aromatic, deep, rich coffee goodness into my cup, and I licked my lips in anticipation.

"I'm a writer."

"Ah." He replaced the coffee pot, nodding. “Of course.”

"What does that mean?" I eyed him over my mug, breathing in the scent. It was nirvana.

He shrugged. "Well you know, it's New York. Everyone's a writer or an actor…"

I took a sip, even though it was too hot and burned my tongue a little. "What do you do?"

"I'm an agent."

“Aha!” I wagged my finger at him. "So not everyone's a writer or an actor.”

“Well, someone has to represent all the talent.” He straightened and went to the fridge, opening it and pulling out a white box. “Are you hungry?” I groaned when he put the box on the counter and opened it. Inside were the most delicate, delicious-looking pastries I’d ever seen, some of them decadently drizzled in chocolate, others with raspberry or strawberry or lemon.

“I don’t want to puke.” I reached across the bar anyway and snagged a puffy chocolate-covered thing.

“I don’t blame you.” He picked something with lemon on top and popped it into his mouth. “So, what do you write?"

"Little bit of everything.” My mouth was full of pastry as I said it-oh my god, it so rich and buttery and scrumptious! I already wanted another one. "But lately…I mean, what I really like to write…"

I hesitated, taking a big gulp of coffee, overdosing on richness.

"Go on, you can tell me.” He winked and offered the box once more. I indulged again, moaning softly as thick, sweet raspberry ooze flooded over my tongue. “I'm just some guy you'll never see again."

“Erotica." I licked the filling off my lips, catching a drip on my chin with my finger.

His eyes never left me as I waited for his response. I’d never really told anyone before, excerpt for Ronnie and TJ, who occasionally enjoyed private readings.

"I see.” Josh plucked another pastry from the box, something that looked almost like a chocolate-dipped cannoli. “And were you doing research last night?"

I laughed, popping the last of the raspberry-yum into my mouth. "Mystery writers don't have to kill people to write crime books, do they?"

"True enough.” He took half the chocolate thing in one bite as I watched, impressed.

"So who do you represent?" I snuck my hand across to snatch one of those chocolate things. He slid the box so I could reach.

"Are you looking?" His mouth was full and he sounded decidedly Scooby-Doo-like when he asked. It made me laugh.

"Jim Carrey informed me last night that all agents are evil." Oh my god, it was actually a chocolate dipped cannoli! I bit the chocolate coating off the end and sucked at the cream, making little happy noises until I noticed Josh staring at me.

“What?” I licked my lips.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. "You met Jim Carrey at 1 Oak last night?"

"I got his autograph for my brother.” I patted my purse. “His biggest fan and all that."

"You know, if you're serious about being a writer, you're going to need an agent.” He closed the box and I looked at it longingly as it disappeared back into the refrigerator. “We may be evil, but we are, I'm afraid, a necessary one."

I shrugged, licking cream off my fingers. "Lots of people have made it without agents."

"That's a myth." He leaned against the counter, watching me slip my fingers into the soft shell of the cannoli, looking for more cream.

"Of course you'd say that.” I sucked my fingers enthusiastically. “You're an agent."