The sound of the glass door sliding open; alerts to Oliver the fact that he is no longer alone. He slips his sunglasses over his eyes, laying still on the lounging chair, hoping whoever is at the door will think he’s asleep and leave him alone.
The sound of feet shuffling gets louder as the person approaches Oliver’s prone form and Oliver growls when the lounge chair almost completely tips forward when the person sits at the edge of it. The person then laughs, a telltale sign that stunt was done just to wake Oliver up, incase he was actually sleeping. The person then slaps Oliver at the back of the head; almost making sure Oliver is indeed awake for good measure.
“Fuck, dude. Don’t you know how to call like a normal person?” Oliver grumbles. He slips his shades onto his head to look up at Tommy Merlyn, who is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt glaring down at him, “Why are you even here so early on a Saturday morning?”
“It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon.” Tommy says exasperated as he moves over to the bar and begins to fix a drink.
When the blender roars to life, Oliver groans taking the towel hanging off the other chair and throwing it over his head, the pounding behind his eyes increasing tenfold, “Stop.”
“You’re still hungover?” Tommy asks in exasperated. He pulls out another tall glass and begins mixing another drink, “I thought the skank I ran into, trying to sneak out of your apartment five minutes ago was just a midday booty call?”
“Hey!” Oliver says sitting up and pointing an unsteady finger at Tommy. He squints at his best friend, frowning when his retinas don’t seem to cooperate with the glaring sunlight shinning down on him and he slips his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “Carrie isn’t a skank.”
“Annie.” Tommy says deadpan. He comes over to the other lounging chair thrusting a glass filled with green shit at Oliver’s face, “Drink. You’re lucky this one seems to have no clue who you were, she seems to think your name is Ramon?”
Oliver shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink, gagging as the awful smell hits is nostrils, “She didn’t know who I was when I asked. She seems to have a thing for Spanish guys.”
“You don’t even speak Spanish.” Tommy points out in exasperation. He takes a sip of his smoothie, one that looks much more interesting that the crap Oliver is currently trying to choke back, “My point is, her not knowing who you are - she does seem to be as stupid as she looks –is good, so we don’t have to worry about this one running to the press and saying you took advantage of her or something.”
“Wow, no Carrie was very much pleased after a night with me. I have the scratch marks on my back to prove it. If anything she was taking advantage of me.” Oliver says smugly. He winces when he downs the last of his drink, “That thing taste like ass.”
“Annie.” Tommy reminds him, but then rolls his eyes, “You look like ass. Go shower. I want to talk to you about something.”
“I need to be clean so that you can discuss this with me?” Oliver asks incredulously. He stretches out on the lounging chair, the towel that was snug over his waist slipping off to show that he’s bared ass on the chair.
“Dude!” Tommy says disgusted, picking up the towel and throwing it onto Oliver’s lap, “Put some clothes on. Shit, what if I brought Katie with me?”
Oliver freezes at the other man’s words, he raises his sunglasses to glare at Tommy, his voice like ice, “She’s in fucking Miami. You know that. What the fuck do you want Tommy? Incase you didn’t notice I am busy.”
“Busy doing what?” Tommy asks incredulously, “Fucking every Tom, Dick and Harry?”
Oliver looks at him confused, “I only sleep with women.”
Tommy rolls his eyes knowing that being hungover always left Oliver a bit slow on the uptake, “It’s a figure of speech genius. Oliver, what are you doing?”
Oliver grunts, not ready to have this conversation yet again. He slips off the lounging chair ignoring as the towel slips from his torso and Tommy’s protest of disgust as he slips into the pool easily. He surface at the center of the pool, standing in the middle of it as he wipes the water out of his eyes, “I’m swimming, seeing as you fired my physiotherapist I have to do this on my own. My shoulder isn’t going to heal itself. So, either you tell me whatever it is that is so important that you had to come here on a Saturday afternoon, or you can see yourself out.”
“I didn’t fire your physiotherapist. You fucked your married physiotherapist and I had to pay her husband a fucking huge sum of money to not kick your ass or worse turn it into a big scandal.” Tommy points out his voice hardening.
“Marriage is overrated.” Oliver remarks slightly aloof, “A piece of paper doesn’t mean shit to people. If she really loved her husband as much as she claimed she would have never spread her legs for me now would she?”
Tommy opens his mouth about to respond but decides to not push it knowing Oliver would only clamp up more if he starts trying to get him to talk, “There has been talk.”
“About me?” Oliver asks only mildly concerned as he starts to do laps along the length of the pool. He is able to do two lengths of the pool, before he has to stop and winces in pain as he starts to move around his injured shoulder, the scar, that is just about three inches in length from his collarbone to the tip of his shoulder, shines in the bright sun.
“Have you been working on that like your coach has been telling you?” Tommy asks, watching as Oliver submerges in the water and starts circling his arm slowly in the water.
“I’m doing it now aren’t I?” Oliver snaps back. He then sighs and gestures to his shorts that are thrown half-haphazardly between the two lounging chairs, “Throw my pants would you?”
He catches the pants with ease with his uninjured shoulder and quickly slips it on before he swims to the stepladder at the side of the pool. He tries to pull himself up with both arms, but hisses in pain and falls back into the water with a splash. Tommy rushes to his side but he holds up his good arm, “I’m fine.”
He then grabs the handles yet again, with his good arm and pulls his entire body out of the water. He rubs his shoulder yet again before grabbing a nearby towel to dry off. When a small green piece of fabric falls to floor he smirks holding it up to show Tommy that is a bikini top. “Souvenir.”
Despite the leer in his tone, his expression lacks the smugness it usually does. He throws the piece of fabric to the side forgetting about it as he takes a seat on the lounging chair, still rubbing his shoulder. He silently sends Tommy a look of gratitude when the other man hands him an icepack, “You’ll call that Diggle dude again? The new physiotherapist?”
“And you’ll stop calling him a Sargent and actually listen to him?” Tommy asks as he pulls out his iPhone.
Oliver sighs, “Text me his number and I’ll call him and apologize. The dudes a hardass, but if I’m to be ready for the next season I need to get my shoulder back in shape.”
Tommy nods, not bothering to question the sudden change in attitude, as Oliver looks at him curiously, “What?”
“The reason you’re here?” Oliver asks. He then chuckles, “And you say I’m the one with a memory that can rival Dory.”
Tommy groans at the mention of the animated fish, “Oh don’t even mention that fish’s name. It’s Jamie’s latest obsession and that’s all that has been playing in our house for days. Laurel is threatening to burn the DVD or jump into the television and murder the fish. It’s a cartoon.”
Oliver laughs wholeheartedly at Tommy’s words, “You should send her over here sometime. We both know how much she loves when I do those voices.”
“Send my daughter over, when you have one of your skanks here?”
“Don’t.” Oliver says his voice hard as he glares at Tommy, the ice pack dropping onto the floor with a thud, “You know I would never do that. Look, things may be a little hard right now and I’m dealing with it as best as I can, but you know that I would never endanger her like that.”
Tommy sighs, “I know. I’m just worried about you Oliver. It’s been 6 months and…”
“I’m dealing with it okay?” Oliver snaps back, “I’ll call Diggle, make nice and…”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Tommy says seriously, but at the glare Oliver sends him he sighs, “Okay, fine be like that. But like it or not this new attitude of yours is getting around, and I’m hearing talks of Reebok not renewing your contract.”
“And? I get hundreds of offers every year.” Oliver says easily as he leans back against the chair, “Just because I was out for the remaining of the football season doesn’t mean that the endorsement deals will suddenly stop. Would it?”
“Yes!” Tommy says in exasperation, shaking his head as Oliver sits up in alarm, “You were out for the remainder of the season, people are going to be hesitant to offer you these deals, not until you’re back on the team playing the game.”
“Well that won’t be a problem then. I’m still on the team. I’m the Starling City Seahawks quarterback. I’m not so easily replaced. It’s only been four weeks, a handful of games.”
“Oliver, you do know what injured reserved list means right?”
“No, don’t go there. I will recover and be back in shape in time for the new season.” Oliver says with finality, indicating that the conversation is over and they would no longer be discussing the possibility of that not happening.
“Okay, well back to your endorsement deals.” Tommy says steering the conversation back to easier territory, “These past few months, your new way of living to simply put it is affecting your reputation, something that you need to uphold in order to get these deals. If these company’s see you’re partying day and night, picking up some random model or skank or whatever, they are going to start assuming you’re dealing with more serious things than some booty call.”
“I worked too fucking hard for my career to fuck it up with drugs.” Oliver snaps angrily kicking the small side table and sending it flying into the pool, “Just because I damaged my shoulder in the middle of a game doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly turn to drugs. I have too many things at stake to do that.”
“Yes, I know that and you know that. But, the general public does not know about your personal life, they only get a small glimpse of you at those parties and they are going to start making up their own stories to go with those pictures. That’s something you don’t need, especially now, ever since your injury people have just been just waiting for you to fuck up. Don’t let them get that satisfaction. There is only so much damage control I can do before you sleep with the wrong slut and your career blows up in your face.”
Oliver sighs at Tommy’s words knowing the truth behind it, “Fine, I’ll be more discreet about it.”
“No, you’ll stop sleeping with the entire female population of Starling City.” Tommy says seriously, holding up a hand when Oliver begins to protest, “It’s bad enough that in the last 5 months there have been reports of you being seen with five different women and if word got around how far off that number really is, things can get ugly fast.”
“Why do people fucking care who I sleep with?” Oliver asks in exasperation, “My fans are only interested in my plays and who really believes those trashy magazines anyway? Don’t they have more interesting people to write about? Like those movie stars that are fucking up their own lives?”
“Well they wouldn’t write about you if you didn’t give them something to write about.” Tommy points out, “Look the point of all this is, I came up with a way to do some serious damage control. Fix your reputation and ensure that you still have your endorsement deals at the end of the year.”
“I’m listening.” Oliver says. He trusts Tommy, they’ve known each other since high school and he knows that Tommy would never lead him astray. Oliver knows that his own reputation would also affect Tommy’s job and that alone has Oliver open to Tommy’s suggestion. It’s one thing for Oliver to be messing up his own life with everything that has happened to him in the last few months, but he refuses to bring down other people with him.
“You need a girlfriend.” Tommy says simply. “A wholesome, nice girl. Not like Annie whats-her-name, who ran out of here without her freaking clothes.”
Oliver groans, not expecting that, “I’m not going to be tied down to some chick, besides I don’t feel comfortable bringing my personal life into work. You know that. I want people to talk about my accomplishments, not about the girl I’m currently banging.”
“Yet, you’re being careless and being seen with every woman under the sun.”
“I thought you said it was just in Starling City.” Oliver jokes, but sighs when Tommy glares at him, “Okay, fine whatever. But, I’m not ready to date yet you know that.”
“I know, but this is strictly professional.” Tommy promises, “There’s this actress…”
“Hold up.” Oliver says raising his hand in a timeout fashion, “I don’t need some chick to pretend to be my girlfriend. I can find a girl on my own thank you very much. I’ll go to one of my charity events and talk up one of the girl’s there, they seem to be wholesome enough, right?”
“No, I’m not talking about you stringing along some unsuspected girl. You and I both know you’re not ready for any kind of commitment to a girl. No need for you to fuck that relationship up in a few months and then we have even more shit to clean up. I’m talking about faking a relationship for the public, let them see that you are happy and settled and companies would want you to represent them.”
Oliver frowns scratching his day old scruff, “I don’t know. I’d have to like pretend to like this chick and we both know acting isn’t really my thing and I hate all those public appearances things. Besides, what self-respecting person would even agree to this?”
“Someone who also needs their own reputation shaken up a bit in order to get somewhere in her line of work.” Tommy says seriously.
Oliver’s eyes widen at Tommy’s words, “Is she a hooker?”
“No you ass!” Tommy says throwing the icepack at Oliver’s chest, “Can you not say that when you meet her? Look, she has this reputation for being innocent and is only known for well rounded, sweet innocent rolls, but she wants to prove to her industry she’s more capable than that.”
“And hooking up with me would do that?” Oliver asks incredulously.
“The Seahawks star quarterback, who up until now has never once talked about his personal life?” Tommy says, “Oh yes it will sell, at least show she’s versatile, or whatever it is her publicist has been saying to me. He tends to talk a lot so I tuned out a few times.”
Oliver laughs at that, but he then sighs, “Dude, I don’t know. I’m suppose to be focusing on getting back into shape…”
“It’s the best option, you get your name out there and talk about how you hope to make a full recovery. Talk about how you plan to make a come back with your girl on your side, its good for your image.” Tommy promises, “Of course, if you don’t want to this there is always option B…”
“No.” Oliver cuts him off immediately. “That’s never an option. This thing with this chick will be entirely business. She is not to find out about my personal life, are we clear? I’ll do the stupid fake relationship or whatever, but that’s entirely it. She doesn’t go anywhere near my personal life.”
“Deal.” Tommy says happily as he pulls out his cellphone to make a call. “I’ll call her publicist and we can organize a meeting for the two of you to meet so we can go throw the ground rules and you two can set your own rules. Please don’t sleep with this one, Oliver. You piss this one off and I can guarantee she will ruin your career.”
“What?” Oliver asks in alarm. He scrambles out of his seat to follow Tommy back into his apartment, “Who is this woman? Tommy! What the fuck are you getting me into!”
“Chill dude, I’ll handle it.” Tommy promises as he turns his attention into his phone, waving off Oliver as he heads to the door.”
“Tommy!” Oliver calls out angrily, “Do I at least get a name?”
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Barry Allen asks with uncertainty.
Felicity tears her eyes away from her laptop screen to look at Barry in confusion, “But you told me this was the best option. The best way to get my name out there and show people I’m flexible, so to speak. Although, I have to ask, why is it my personal life would hold more weight that my actual talents? I haven’t been killing myself at dance classes for the past six months so that whom I’m supposedly dating can give me the edge I need? I thought this business was about talent. The four years I’ve been immersed in this world of Broadway, I’ve been told that the reason its not like Hollywood is because people are recognized for their talent first and foremost, it’s not superficial like Hollywood is. Why am I spending hours in the studio perfecting my dancing only to let a relationship I’m not even in, to dictate how my career goes?”
“No, you misunderstood me. Doing this little thing will get your name out there and producers and directors will know who you are and consider you for parts they normally wouldn’t have because of what you’ve done so far.”
“I was Mary Poppins in my first role, ever. Shouldn’t that speak for itself?” Felicity asks in exasperation.
She’s been in this business for all of four years, the role of Mary Poppins literally just falling into her lap. She was juggling multiple jobs at the time, trying to make ends meet, and babysitting seemed to be her best offer. She took one of the kids she was babysitting to the park, the toddler would only fall asleep whenever she sang to him. That day she was not so quietly sing to him when Barry, heard her and asked her if she ever sang professionally, and the rest is history as they say, within a few months she was singing on Broadway with absolutely no kind of training other than what Barry had organized for her the few short months between casting calls.
“It says that you have a safe career, you don’t want to spend the rest of your time on Broadway doing Disney inspired musicals, do you?” Barry asks. He points at the laptop screen with a flourish, “This will get your foot in the door, get you out of the kiddie pool and into the grown up pool.”
Felicity looks at the screen and frowns when she sees a young man no older than 27 smiling back at her. He has a football in his hand and is dressed in complete Starling City Seahawks attire, his blond hair clean cut with a sprinkling of stubble across his chin, Felicity will admit he’s very easy on the eyes. His broad shoulders making him look even larger than he is. “A football player? You want me to date a football player? I thought this agreement was with a fellow actor? Someone, who understands this business and why we are doing this? What does a footballer need with a Broadway star?”
”This is Oliver Queen.” Barry says gesturing at the screen unnecessary, pointedly ignoring Felicity’s question, “He recently injured his shoulder and was unable to finish the football season. He’s currently in recovery and hoping to make it back in time for the new season. Now, I’m not too sure about the politics of football, but Iris’ friend is the dude’s publicist and she and his manage were saying that Oliver needs to get his name out there so that he’s still relevant, and dating you would look good for his image. It’s a win win situation for the both of you.”
But Felicity has since stopped listening to Barry, as she slowly goes through the photo gallery of Oliver on her laptop. She’s obviously pleased that he’s very attractive, but her pleasure turns to that of disdain when she comes across recent pictures of Oliver, canoodling with various women, all of whom are scantily dressed. When she sees that the majority of the pictures are in fact recent, she frowns, “You want me to date a manwhore?”
Barry looks at her sheepishly, “Did I forget to mention that he has a bit of a reputation for being a bit of a party animal? Apparently, it’s recently gotten out of hand and his manger has some serious damage control. Hence, the reason why we both thought you could help…”
“I’m not some tart.” Felicity says with a huff, glaring at Barry, “This is not the way I want to improve my career. I can get by on my own talent, I think this entire concept is just ridiculous. I don’t need to hang onto some airbrain, who will present me like some floozy who does his every whim.”
“Okay, calm down.” Barry says seriously, as he closes the laptop down, “I already explained to you, even though its all for public appearance the both of you will set the rules. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to and you are helping him just as much as he will be helping you, hence the agreement in the first place. I would never put you in a situation you couldn’t handle. Do you trust me?”
Felicity sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat at his words, “Of course I do.”
“Good, just meet with him tomorrow. We’ll go through the ground rules, the two of you can chat and set your own rules. It will be fine, I promise. Also? The word is airhead not airbrain.”
“Whoops, its not very often I use that term anyway.” Felicity says with a sheepish grin, “So, where are my notes?”
At Barry’s blank look she frowns, “What notes?”
“About this Oliver Queen boy.” Felicity says with exasperation, “How am I supposed to prepare if I don’t know anything about him?”
Barry’s laughter only annoys Felicity more, “I’m being serious Barry!”
“I know, and that’s why I’m laughing,” Barry says in amusement, not even deterred by her glare, “This isn’t another role, relax you can find out everything tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? No! Barry I need to prepare. I don’t like doing things on a limb, you know that.” Felicity says with a huff. She suddenly stands up startling Barry to say the lease, even more so as she begins to pack her handbag, slipping her iPad and phone into her bag, “If you’re not going to help me, then I will have to do research on my own.”
“Research?” Barry repeats incredulously, “Felicity, where are you going? You don’t…Felicity!”
“Text me the address and time.” Felicity calls over her shoulder as she slips out of the room
“But, this is your apartment.” Barry trails off realizing he’s now talking to an empty room.
“You could have worn something a little less revealing.” Barry hisses under his breath as he ushers Felicity through the Merlyn Gym. He glares a few of the men by the weights, who have stopped to watch Felicity, “Eyes front boys, before you lose a limb looking at the pretty girl.”
Felicity rolls her eyes not even bothering to give the men the time of day, “I’m in character.”
“In character?” Barry groans, “Felicity, I told you…”
“You could have told me I was coming to a sweat pool.” Felicity says turning her nose up in disgust, her blond hair bouncing with the shake of her head. “Why are we in a gym anyway?”
“Because Tommy is also a personal trainer.” Barry answers as he holds open a door for her, they both breathe a sigh of relieve as they exist the main gym, “You never answered my question. What’s with the getup?”
“What?” Felicity asks in confused,
“Your ‘costume’?” Barry corrects waving his hand at her outfit.
“I’m playing the part.” Felicity says easily as she adjusts her strapless sundae dress, tugging her cropped jeans jacket closer to her body, “How do women wear these things, without worrying something will fall out?”
“I think first off you need to have something to fall out first.” A voice drawls out, startling Felicity.
She looks up her eyes narrowing at Oliver Queen who is leaning against a desk his arm folded as he gazes at her. His eyes begin to roam her entire body from head to toe, and she watches as they light up in merit, a smug grin filtering across his face. “Dude, you didn’t tell me she was hot.”
“Excuse me?” Felicity stutters out not believing the audacity of this man as he blatantly checks her out, so much so that he begins to circle her. She in turn spins around trying to prevent him from looking at her body more.
Her actions only cause the other man to laugh, as he sits on the desk, folding his arms over his chest, He then looks across at Tommy who is sitting behind his desk, “She’ll do.”
“Are you telling me that you knew about this meeting and refused to prepare?” Felicity asks incredulously, her anger slowly rising, “You couldn’t even pick up your phone and google who I am?”
Oliver shrugs his shoulders nonchalant, “I trust Tommy wouldn’t get me some hag to date.”
“I’ll have you know mister Queen…”
“Okay.” Barry calls out, cutting Felicity off and ushering her into one of the seats in front of the desk, “Why don’t we start over, and start with introductions? My name is Barry Allen, this is Felicity Smoak.”
“I gathered that much, despite the stick up her ass.” Oliver comments dryly as Felicity splutters in horror, but before she can snap back, Tommy stands up coming around to shake her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Felicity,” He says pleasantly, pressing his elbow into Oliver’s knee hard as he passes by to get back to his seat.
Oliver rolls his eyes, but looks across at Felicity less than enthused “Hey.”
Felicity pulls back her hand when he doesn’t take it, clenching them in her lap as she counts to five trying to calm herself. She then opens her eyes to see Oliver looking at her in amusement, “Luckily for you, I came prepared, in case you weren’t able to prepare in time for this meeting. So, I took the liberty to make a small list of things about me that you’ll need to know.”
She opens her messenger bag pulling out a small binder for Oliver, she pointedly ignores his look of surprise and shoves the binder in his arms, “It’s just a few things you may need to know. I tried to research you myself, but it seems that, other than your apparently stellar football stats and your involvement in charity; there isn’t much about you online and trust me I know my way around the internet. I also…”
“Hold up.” Oliver says putting his hands up to stop her, both his hands forming a T.
“Doesn’t that mean time out?” Felicity asks curiously, “I also read up on football, can’t exactly date a footballer and not know…”
“Stop!” Oliver says in exasperated. He holds up the open file in front of her and reads off the first page, ‘“You enjoy long walks on the beach.’ ‘Reading a good book with a nice cup of tea?’ I’m sorry your majesty, but this isn’t e-harmony. I’m your make-believe boyfriend, not your real one.”
“There is no need for you to be a prat about it.” Felicity snaps, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “If we’re going to appear like we are dating, I expect you to know things about me and vice versa. People are expecting us to know things about each other and when the question arises I’d like to have more to say than my boyfriend is an arse.”
“The word is ass.” Oliver says, “What centaury, were you even born in?”
Felicity and Barry exchange nervous glances at Oliver’s question, and Barry quickly steps up, “Felicity does have a point though, you don’t need to know intricate details, but you need to know things about each other so that this is believable.”
“And at lease act like the two of you like each other.” Tommy pipes up, shrugging when Barry glares at him, “Don’t give me that look Allen. This entire thing would be pointless if these two aren’t believable.”
“I am a complete professional, Mr. Merlyn.” Felicity promises, “I give nothing but my best. Our first public appearance I will be nothing but attentive. People will think I worship him…I mean… They will know I think highly of him.”
“Do I get to see a preview?” Oliver asks winking at her suggestively, groaning when Tommy slaps him on the back of the head.
“Shut up, idiot.” Tommy grumbles, he shakes his head and looks at Felicity apologetically, “I’ll work on him.”
“I wasn’t aware people were able to perform miracles in this day and age.” Felicity remarks dryly, earning a laugh from all the men except Oliver, who just huffs in annoyance.
Tommy grins as he claps his hand on Oliver’s shoulder, “I like her.”
Oliver rolls his eyes as Felicity beams at Tommy, ”Don’t bother your majesty, he’s married.”
“Could you please stop with the nicknames, its not cute, only ironic.” Felicity snaps in annoyance, “Contrary to what you may think mister Queen, when a woman smiles at a man it doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to sleep with him.”
“Well, I’ve yet to see that happen to me.” Oliver says smugly.
“I’ll gladly prove you wrong for the next few months then,” Felicity replies hotly.
“Okay, before the two of start up again. Let’s go over your first meeting.” Barry says cutting into their conversation yet again, “We were thinking the two of you have coffee this weekend. There is this little place on 34th Street, a coffee house, small intimate not very well known.”
“I thought the whole point of this was for people to know about us?” Oliver asks in confusion.
“Yes, but you can’t just go to some event and kiss her on the red carpet. We want people to talk, the best way to do that is by being discrete. Have coffee in a small unknown place, find a spot in the back of the room, arrive and leave separately but part ways outside of the coffee house. Try to be noticed, but don’t be obvious about it.”
Felicity nods listening attentively as she makes small notes on her iPad, ignoring the look of disbelief Oliver is giving her, just because he fails to take this seriously, doesn’t mean she won’t. “What about café Bestro? I heard…”
“No.” Oliver cuts her off his voice hard.
She would have protested, but at the look in his eyes she changes her mind, “Okay, there is one called Café Latte on 42nd its actually a basement café.”
Oliver looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, but before she can decipher the look he gives her, his face becomes passive, “That works for me, and the paparazzi?”
“I’ll organize that and let Felicity know what time they will be outside.” Barry informs him.
“Before we get to that I have some ground rules, and I’m sure you have as well.” Felicity pulls out another binder at which Oliver groans.
“Another book? Fuck, if I had known hiring you would have came with fucking homework, I would have taken my chances and found some random chick off the street.” Oliver says not even taking the binder from Felicity.
“You did not hire me. We are both doing this to help each other out. I’m going to ignore your other offending remark and just tell you then. I have do’s and don’ts that I won’t do for this little stunt. I expect you to read them and I’d happily listen to your own.”
“I don’t really have any do’s or don’ts. I’m more of a try it once and take my chances, if you know what I mean.” Oliver says wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.
“You do that and I’ll break your next shoulder.” Felicity snaps back at him angrily. She gets to her feet slapping her binder onto Oliver’s lap ignoring his wince, “I expect you to read this before we meet. My number and email is on the front page. I hope that you take this seriously and send me your own list. If you so much as break one of my rules, I’ll ensure you never set foot on a football field again.”
With those words she storms off, ignoring Barry’s calls. When Oliver asks if all that was an act or if she ‘was for real’ she frowns, clearly her acting is not up to par if he was skeptical of her parting words. Oliver Queen has another thing coming if he thinks she will be another one of his floozies that worships the ground he walks on.