Hollywood Hills (19 page)

“Hi again,” Seamus replied, and gave a wide, easy grin.

“Seamus, what are you
doing
here?” Holly demanded, feeling light-headed at the sight of him. How had
he
gotten past the bouncer?

Alexa, who was wondering the same thing, took that moment to notice that Seamus was dressed exactly like the other groomsmen who’d been milling about. He obviously
wasn’t
crashing.

What on earth…

Seamus gave a bashful smile and lowered his head, putting his hands in his pants pockets. “Remember, at the Getty, how I said I had something to tell you?” he began, and then he lifted his head to meet Alexa’s gaze.

The weirdest thing happened then. Alexa felt her heart give a kick, and her cheeks flushed as she studied the depths of Seamus’s hazel eyes. In them she saw kindness and intelligence and—something else. Something that made her heart beat even faster.

“Shay! What up, brother? You want us to start the wedding without you?”

A guy in a black tux appeared at Seamus’s side. He was short and stocky, with salt-and-pepper hair, and Alexa immediately recognized him as Oren Samuels, the agent she’d read about in
Variety.
Oren thumped Seamus on his shoulder, then pointed across the grass. “Jonah’s looking for you—it’s almost showtime.”

Still stunned, Holly looked over to where the other guy was pointing. Next to a grove of lemon trees, all the groomsmen were gathering alongside the bridesmaids, who wore pale-blue gauzy dresses and garlands of violets in their hair. Holly could make out Jonah, handsome and grinning as he posed for a photo with another groomsman.

“I have to go,” Seamus said unnecessarily as Oren
led him away. “I’ll find you girls after the ceremony.” Then Seamus glanced at Alexa. “The photo—” he said, gesturing to it.

The photo had slipped Alexa’s mind as surely as it had slipped from her hands. She knelt down to retrieve it but kept her eyes on Seamus. “Yeah?” she replied cautiously.

“That’s the one you took in the car, right?” he asked, giving her a half smile. “I remember.”

Alexa nodded, her heart going to her throat.
Seamus knows
, she realized, the thought springing to her head before she could stop it.
He knows
me.

Flustered, Alexa restored the contents of the gift bag, found room for it on the table, and hurried with Holly over to the rows of white chairs, which had been wiped dry by Vikram’s staff. The rain began to let up as the girls breathlessly sank into the last two remaining seats. They were sitting behind Esperanza, who looked as prim as ever in her white suit and high, tight bun.

“I can’t believe Seamus lied to us,” Holly was fuming as she set her gold-studded black clutch in her lap.

“Well, I guess he didn’t technically
lie
, since we never
asked
him if he’d be here,” Alexa argued, twisting around in her seat to look at the groomsmen. She didn’t see Seamus, but she spotted Jonah standing at
the head of the line, self-assuredly smoothing back his dark hair. Alexa thought about waving to him, but she decided she’d wait until after the ceremony. Besides, she had other things on her mind now.

“Since when are
you
Seamus’s defender?” Holly asked. She could feel a mischievous smile tugging on her lips.

Alexa whirled back around to face her friend, her cheeks pinker than Holly had ever seen them. “I’m
not
—I just—” Before Alexa could finish, the musicians struck up a tune on their violins (Holly recognized it as the Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun,” which she thought was a cute choice) and the processional began.

Down the aisle came the adorable, towheaded child actress Nevada Giroux, wearing a tiny replica of the bridesmaids’ blue gowns, and scattering fresh violet petals from a woven basket.
Oohs
and
ahs
followed her, and then faded as beaming, dressed-to-the-nines parents and grandparents took their turns, nodding graciously as camera flashes went off. Next came the groomsmen and bridesmaids, walking two by two. Jonah, the best man, led the way, beside a curly-haired redhead who had to be the maid of honor. Up ahead, Holly noticed the crew from E! filming, and helicopter blades were whirring overhead, as they had that
morning at
El Sueño.
In that heart-jumping moment, it fully dawned on Holly that she was at an event that would be major pop-culture news for at least a week.

Thank God she hadn’t worn her prom dress after all.

A hush fell over the crowd, and all heads turned to see Margaux and Paul, arm in arm. Alexa gasped at the genius of Margaux’s Paz Ferrara-designed bridal gown: It was very eighties-retro, short and strapless with a bubble hem—and it was fuchsia. She wore it with high-heeled, strappy, fuchsia sandals, carried a bouquet of black roses, and wore a wreath of the same flowers in her short hair. Her tear-filled dark-blue eyes darted from side to side, and then she smiled.

She was stunning.

Scandalized murmurs shot through the crowd. Now the camera flashes went off with a vengeance, and Holly was so blinded by them that she only caught a quick glimpse of Paul, who looked almost clean-cut in a black tux that hid his tattoos. The couple stopped under the canopy, facing the auburn-haired woman in the blue gown.

“Welcome,” the woman said into a microphone, her voice strong and melodic. “My name is Bluebird Wasserstein, and I am a certified Kabbalah Minister of Love and Peace, practicing only within the city of Los Angeles.”

“That’s a surprise,” Alexa snorted, and she and Holly covered their mouths to muffle their giggles. Esperanza glanced over her shoulder, arching one dark eyebrow.

“Today,” Bluebird went on, smiling serenely at the crowd. “We—I say we, because a wedding is at its essence a communal affair—will wed Margaux and Paul in a truly beautiful ceremony combining Buddhist, Jewish, Christian, and Wiccan traditions.”

“Is this for real?” Holly whispered to Alexa.

Up front, through the bustle of the crowd, Alexa thought she saw Seamus cough into his fist in order to disguise a laugh, and she grinned.

After Bluebird had chanted a few indecipherable prayers blessing the bride and groom, Margaux and Paul turned to each other to exchange the rings and speak their vows. Suddenly Holly felt some of her silly mood subside. A seriousness bloomed in her as she watched the couple gaze lovingly at each other. The rain had stopped completely, as if in deference to the ceremony, and as the sun set behind Margaux and Paul, the sky layered itself into shades of violet, yellow, and pink—like the hint of a rainbow. The whole garden seemed to glow.

A director couldn’t have set up this scene better
, Alexa mused with a smile.

“Paul,” Margaux said into the microphone, her
voice throaty with tears. “My heart, my rock, my reason for living. Whatever adventure life takes us on, I know you will be beside me, holding my hand as we skydive out of that plane, drive backward down Hollywood Boulevard, and dance naked on the roof of the Roosevelt Hotel.” Nervous titters echoed through the crowd. “Or whatever,” Margaux amended, grinning.

Alexa was chuckling at Margaux’s overdramatics, but Holly bit her lip, thinking of Tyler. Her hand strayed to her now bare ring finger just as Paul slid the gold band onto Margaux’s. Everything Margaux had said, crazy as it was, defined what Holly had wished she and Tyler could have been. She wanted a fellow adventurer, someone who’d urge her to take risks when she was feeling her most cautious. Holly hadn’t exactly doubted her decision about Tyler before, but now she felt certain about what she’d done—even if that certainty was colored with sadness.

The sun was disappearing behind the hills, and the first stars were appearing overhead, as Paul stomped on a glass wrapped in fabric, the crowd erupted in cheers, and the newlyweds started kissing in a totally inappropriate, get-a-room way. Even Alexa felt herself blushing at the sight.
God.
It had been so long since someone had kissed her like that—and
suddenly she craved that kind of reckless passion. Almost unintentionally, Alexa searched the wedding party for Seamus, but she couldn’t make him out between the blinding camera flashes.

As Margaux and Paul, hand in hand, darted laughing up the aisle, a woman sitting behind Alexa and Holly cleared her throat. “I give them three months,” she remarked snidely.

Holly sighed and began to clap for the couple. Despite all of the skepticism, irony, and fakery in Hollywood, and despite Holly’s own recent love woes, she was still determined to believe in romance. And no matter how long she stayed in Los Angeles, she knew she always would.

The cocktail hour was held inside the tent, which was decorated with gold fairy lights and black-and-white snapshots of Margaux and Paul. Each of the fuchsia-draped tables, which were arranged in a heart around the dance floor, was scattered with black roses and marked with different movie titles, such as
CASABLANCA
and
GONE WITH THE WIND
. While Holly went off to find their place cards for dinner, Alexa rose up in her peep-toe shoes and scanned the masses for Seamus again. She wanted to see if she’d feel that funny, heart-pounding way in his presence again.

Scoping out the golden-hued tent, Alexa spotted more famous, chiseled faces, including Charity Durst, who was talking to Belle Runningwater. Jonah and several groomsmen were laughing and getting down in the middle of the shiny dance floor, even though the stage—which was set up with drums, a keyboard, and a microphone—was lacking musicians. And then, with a jolt, Alexa saw Seamus, standing in line at the bar and chatting with one of the giggly bridesmaids, who was clearly throwing herself at him. But Seamus kept glancing around the tent as if he, too, were searching for someone.

“Guess what?” Holly grunted, reappearing with a sour expression on her face.

Alexa glanced at her friend, feeling her stomach sink. “We don’t have place cards,” she replied flatly.
Thanks, Margaux.

“This is so cruel,” Holly groaned, tucking her clutch under her arm. Delicious smells of olive oil, roast chicken, and basil were wafting over from the back of the tent; she was ravenous. “What are we going to do?”

“Don’t panic,” Alexa recommended as a stream of guests maneuvered past her on the way to their tables. “We just need to get resourceful and—”

“Could I be of any help?”

Alexa turned her head to see Seamus holding two glasses of white wine, a sheepish half smile on his face.

“Um,” Alexa said, uncharacteristically floored. She wished she weren’t blushing.

“Well,” Holly jumped in, putting one hand on her hip. The table situation was making her feel bolder than usual. “You could help in one way, Seamus—by telling us how and why you’re at this wedding.”

Seamus sighed, holding out the glasses of wine to the girls like peace offerings. “I’m sorry, you guys—I wanted to explain a couple times before, but we kept getting interrupted.”

Holly felt herself softening as she noticed the sincerity in his hazel eyes. “So…you must know Paul? Or Margaux?” she prompted, taking one of the glasses and passing it to Alexa.

Seamus ran a hand through his thick blond hair, unintentionally mussing it. “I’ve known Margaux all my life,” he replied with a smile. “ ’Cause Jonah Eklundstom is my best friend.”

“
What?
” Alexa and Holly asked at the same time, glancing at each other.

Seamus nodded, looking a little amused by their surprise. “The three of us grew up together—right down the street from each other in La Brea, and we went to school together, too. Jonah and I used to play
soccer in my backyard, and I’d help him study for English tests…He wasn’t always world-famous, you know.” Seamus’s voice carried a hint of nostalgia.

“Oh, I know,” Alexa said, thinking back to the stories Aramis had told her about the sweet, airheaded, teenage boy who’d flunked half his classes at Santa Monica’s Crossroads High School. She was still astonished by Seamus’s revelation, but at least it was starting to make more sense.

“And when I moved out east for college,” Seamus added, “we stayed in touch, and Margaux and Paul visited me a lot when they were filming
Grit and Gravel
in Brooklyn. Margaux thought it would be cool to have a childhood friend in the wedding party.”

Alexa felt a shiver of realization go through her as she remembered something Jonah had said that night at The Standard:
My best friend lives in New York…

“I know it’s kind of dumb,” Seamus continued, anticipating Holly’s next question as she opened her mouth. “But I don’t like telling people that I’m Jonah’s friend. Not even my college buddies, let alone people I meet for the first time.” He glanced from one girl to the other, his tone impassioned. “I couldn’t be more different from the whole Hollywood scene, and I always feel like I’m showing off or something when I mention my connection to it, so—I don’t.” Seamus lifted his shoulders, looking apologetic, and Holly
knew his regret was genuine. “I should have said something in the car,” he continued. “Especially when I dropped you guys off at El Sueño. But…I just couldn’t. In a way, it embarrasses me, you know?” Holly nodded, well understanding Seamus’s mixed feelings about Hollywood.

Then Seamus looked at Alexa, his hazel eyes bright with mischief. “And, since you didn’t seem like my biggest fan in the first place…I thought I might come off as really arrogant.”

Alexa returned Seamus’s gaze, feeling her cheeks warm up again. “You came off as arrogant anyway,” she retorted almost automatically, but she found herself thinking:
He cared what I thought about him?

Seamus laughed, holding Alexa’s gaze. “You won’t let me off the hook for a second, will you, Alexa?”

“Never,” Alexa swore, and as she and Seamus continued to look at each other, she felt an electric spark pass between them, so intense she had to catch her breath.

Seamus seemed to feel strangely as well, because he cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and looked swiftly back at Holly. “Look, I’m sure you girls have your own seats,” he began. “But any chance you’d want to sit at the wedding party’s table? Oren’s ducking out early to meet with a potential client”—Seamus rolled his eyes at this—“and it’s way past the flower
girl’s bedtime, so we’ve got two empty spaces.” He flashed them both a contrite grin. “What do you say?”