Party Girl (24 page)

“I love pancakes.” It’s the truth . . . And right about now I think I could eat a dozen.

He nods approvingly. “I know a place.”

He pulls the jeep back onto PCH, and I study him while he drives.

“What?” he asks when he catches me staring.

“You surprise me.”

“And why is that?”

“You—this.” I gesture around the car. “This isn’t what I expected from a date with you.”

“And what did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Something involving reservations maybe?”

He frowns.
What did I say wrong?

“Is that what you would have preferred?” There’s an edge in his voice and that aloof, haughty mask is back on his face.

“Don’t do that!” I scold.

“Do what?”

“Don’t pull that face, or that voice.” I turn in my seat to look right at him. “I don’t know what I said, but I sure didn’t mean to startle you back into Brody Ashton.”

Confusion clouds his features, but at least it’s not the look he just wore.

“I
am
Brody Ashton.”

“Not today.” I smile at him. “Today you’re just a guy who took me surfing.”

He looks startled and then a little sheepish.

“And surfing was . . .”

“Surfing was perfect.” I smile at him, “Best non-date ever.”

His own little smile starts to play around the edge of his mouth.

“I am curious, though. Why did you choose something so different from your usual dates?”

He looks over at me quickly and then back at the road in front of him. I can actually see the wheels turning in his mind as he debates his answer. We come to a stoplight before he looks over at me again.

“Because you’re not like other dates, and so the usual wouldn’t work with you.”

Meaning I’m not composed or cultured enough to warrant a sophisticated evening from him. My spirit plummets.

I try to keep the disappointment off my face, but he must see something there.

“It couldn’t be the usual date, because you’re different,” he says softly.

His tone only makes me more confused. I search desperately for something to keep myself from embarrassing myself further, and settle on rubbing my hands together in front of the heating vent. I’m watching my hands rub back and forth nervously when Brody grabs one, brings my fingers to his lips, and kisses them sweetly.

“Landon.” He says my name like a caress. “It had to be something different, because everything feels different with you.”

I’m stunned by what he says, and when I smile stupidly over at him in shock, he leans over quickly and kisses the grin off my face.

The car behind us honks, angry that our speed has dropped, and he leans back over and winks at me.

“They were looking a little blue again,” he says with a grin.

The next day I’m sorting and folding laundry in my room while I catch Mama up on my week. I don’t know how she knew, but she must have sensed something in my tone because she asks point-blank if I’ve met any nice boys lately, and I find myself telling her about the non-date.

“Well, he sounds like somethin’ real special, Landon.” She practically croons into the phone.

“He’s very nice, but I’m not sure yet if he’s special.” I ignore the flutter in my belly that says I’m lying; I’m not going to admit it to my mother when I haven’t even admitted it to myself.

“Oh, pish,” she says dismissively. “I knew the first time I saw your daddy that he was the man for me. He’d come to my cousin Margie’s Fourth of July barbecue, and she introduced us, and he reached out to shake my hand, and I swear, that was it.”

I keep folding the T-shirts in front of me but can’t help but smile along as she talks, even though I’ve heard this story a million times before.

“Mama, he just took me surfing and then to breakfast. It’s a little harder than you think to find
the one
.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, baby. When you find your man, it’s almost
too
easy. Gettin’ married and havin’ a mortgage. Kids and a business to run and findin’ a way to stay in love day in, day out, that’s the tougher part. But the beginnin’ . . . that part’s easy as pie. That’s why they call it fallin’, because it happens before you have time to stop yourself.”

“OK.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll remember that, Mama. I’m gonna let you go, though. I gotta put all this laundry up before it starts to wrinkle.”

She probably knows I’m avoiding the conversation but doesn’t call me out on it.

“OK, girl. Love ya. Call me later.”

I hang up with her and drop the phone onto the bed. I’m still smiling at the conversation as I grab a pile of towels and turn around to put them in the linen closet in the hall.

Max is standing in my doorway, holding her bag, with an odd look on her face. I hadn’t heard her come home.

“He took you surfing?” she asks me incredulously.

I hadn’t anticipated her wanting to talk about this, but I’m confused by the look on her face.

“He did,” I say carefully. “Is that . . . bad?” I ask for lack of a better word.

She shakes her head slowly back and forth.

“No—he doesn’t really—not since,” she says as she catches herself midsentence and closes her mouth completely.

I stand there waiting for her to finish her thought. Finally she speaks.

“I’m just surprised.”

With that, she shrugs and heads off to her room. I’m left standing there, holding a stack of towels, wondering what the heck that was all about.

Chapter TWENTY-ONE

The next Wednesday we host the Riverton group and a small team from Barker-Ash in our conference room to finalize details for Sundance. The lead from each SSE team is sitting around the table, along with Selah, Diego, Brody, and me, of course, since I’m the official catchall for just about everything. Diego is going over design layouts, and I absolutely refuse to look at Brody for fear that Selah will see how bad I’m crushing on him. We’ve exchanged texts a few times, but it is the first time I’ve seen him since our non-date.

I take diligent notes and offer Selah answers when she needs them, trying not to gag when she flirts with every man in the room.

“And it’s possible to have this many parties in one space?” Diego asks finally.

“Possible and necessary.” Selah beams at him. “The more cast parties you host, the more your brand gets featured. The association with Barker-Ash, and Twenty-Five more specifically, is a huge draw, so everyone came calling when they found out we’d be in town.”

“Is everything sorted out with the liquor delivery?” the man sitting next to Diego asks.

“It’s always a bit of a pain working in Utah because they won’t allow alcohol to be shipped cross state lines. We deal with that by having a local restaurant there order an excess amount of product in exchange for a small markup, and we buy it off of them,” Taylor explains.

“And everything is handled with the permits, the licenses, et cetera?” Brody asks.

“We’re all set. Walker flew out on Monday and met with the City. So we’re good,” Taylor answers.

“And what’s the weather supposed to be? I heard there was a blizzard last year,” Diego asks.

When no one answers I look up at him.

“Upper twenties is what they’re estimating now, though I’m tracking it regularly. I’ll let you know if there’s a drastic change in either direction.”

“And lodging?”

I look down at my notes and then back up.

“I sent details to your assistant this morning; both your teams are booked at the Waldorf.”

“And featured drinks?” he fires back.

“Will change daily depending on the party. Each is themed in some way to the movie and the cast you’re hosting.”

“And you got the margarita mix?” His eyes narrow, but I don’t even change expression.

“At the Patron party maybe, but not at any of ours. You asked us to come up with several inventive variations, and we’ve done that, but none of them are margaritas.”

Ever since the first party, and Brody’s warning that people will treat me with as much or as little respect as I allow them, I’ve done my best to be only professional with the Riverton team. Diego is still a flirt, but when I don’t encourage it he tends to mellow out in the course of a meeting.

“Very good,
querida
.” Diego smiles beatifically. “I think we’re good here unless you have any questions.” He looks at Brody and then the rest of the team, and when they all shake their heads he stands to leave.

Everyone files out on either end of the room, and I’m one of the last to leave after packing up all of my paperwork and my computer. I head in the direction of the door and only then do I notice that Brody is dogging my steps. I’m still not going to acknowledge him in this setting, and I think he gets it because he hasn’t tried to engage me in conversation or make eye contact once. He now knows as well as I do how Selah might react to that. Still, it’s more than a little odd to not speak to him at all.

Just before I reach the door I feel a playful tug on the back of my ponytail, and I giggle quietly and throw him an amused expression over my shoulder. As soon as I do Brody’s face goes completely blank. At first I think I’ve done something wrong but then I turn around to follow his line of sight.

Selah is standing in the doorway, watching us.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . .

She’s seen the exchange, and there’s no covering up what has just happened because no way is hair pulling professional behavior. Her face is frozen in a grimace, but her eyes dart back and forth between the two of us like she’s trying to solve a particularly difficult riddle. I feel myself blush, and just like that, I’ve answered the question for her.

You know that scene in
Willy
Wonka
where Veruca Salt loses her mind over the golden goose? Well, Brody is the golden goose, and Selah has just realized he’s unavailable to her . . . and she’s pissed. Her eyes nearly glow with rage, but then just as quickly she schools her expression.

I have no idea what I should do, so I just keep walking past Selah standing in the doorway and straight down the hall to my office. I don’t look back at Brody, I don’t acknowledge any of my coworkers; I just jump on my computer and start following up on e-mails. I’m running through a million possible scenarios in my mind . . . Will she fire me? Surely that’s illegal or something. I didn’t really do anything wrong, did I? Maybe she’ll just scream. It’ll be unpleasant, but I’ve been there before, and if I just stay quiet and let her get it out—

The door to my office clicks shut, and Selah is standing in front of it wearing a beautiful Gucci dress and an ugly expression.

“Is this how you thought you’d work your way to the top then? On your back?”

Her words are a physical blow, a sucker punch to my stomach that pushes all the air from my lungs. I look up expecting her glare only to find a totally controlled expression on her face, as if getting worked up over me is beneath her. She stands there without speaking.
Is she waiting for some kind of response?
I shake my head slowly, and finally I find my voice, “I didn’t—”

“Do I
look
like an idiot? This isn’t anything new. The scenario has played out a million times before, but usually the girls doing it are a bit more obvious. I’m actually a little impressed . . . You pretend to be sweet and innocent, when really you’re just scheming like all the rest.”

I don’t want to listen to her. I want to get up and run away but I’m frozen to my seat.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

“Ma’am, I—”

“Give up the act, Brinkley. No one’s buying it! You saw a meal ticket, and he saw another cheap lay,” she snarls viciously, and it’s the first break in her composure since she walked in the room.

“Another?” I squeak.

Selah’s face softens the slightest bit while she considers me and then morphs completely into concerned.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t tell me . . . You thought you were
special
?” It’s the most-popular-girl-in-school voice, the one she uses on the SSE team when she wants to make them feel like her best friend. “Let me guess, you’re different from all the others, right? He made you feel pretty and interesting, and you thought maybe the two of you had a future?”

Her voice sounds kind but the words are intentionally sharp. My eyes blur with tears so I stare down at my hands. I can’t have her watch me cry. It was only one date, but he did make me feel special. Now I just feel stupid. I don’t answer, but then I don’t really need to.

“You really are naive, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Finally I find my voice enough to squeak.

“We’re just friends.”

She takes two steps forward until she’s looming over me, eating up all the air in the little office.

“Ah, but perception is everything, Brinkley. I’m sure people already assume the worst.”

“I don’t want—”

She interrupts me. “Do you want to keep your job?”

My head snaps up. “Of course I do!”

“Then you have a choice to make. I won’t allow the reputation of my firm to be tarnished by your indiscretion—”

“But I—”

“You will have no further contact with anyone from Barker-Ash professionally or otherwise! If I find out about any kind of relationship, even a purely platonic one, I’ll be forced to let you go. Do you understand?”

I can’t believe any of this is happening, and I can’t believe I’ve made such a fool of myself that even Selah, who doesn’t seem to care about anyone, is concerned for me. I nod slowly.

She seems mollified by my response and turns to go, but at the last second she looks back. She starts to speak and with every word her tone changes; it becomes hateful.

“And Brinkley, I’m rarely this explicit with employees, but since you seem to be slow on the uptake, let me make myself perfectly clear. This is your only warning. If you disregard it, I won’t just fire you, I will
ruin
you.”

I stare at her in wide-eyed shock. No one has ever spoken to me like this in my life, and I’m paralyzed. I have no idea how to react.

“I know what you all say about me behind my back; I’m a crazy bitch, right?” She bends down, nearly in my face. “But I promise you, you don’t want to see how far I can take that title.”

Then she straightens herself up, smooths out her dress, and leaves my office with the door clicking quietly shut behind her like she was never there at all.

For a minute I just stare at the closed door, too shocked to move. I knew she’d be upset, but I never thought she’d imagine I was sleeping with Brody, or that I’d do something like that to get ahead.
Is that what girls in LA do? Is that what girls in LA do
with him
?
Is that all I am, just the latest conquest?
I cover my face with my hands and let go of the tears I’ve been holding in. I don’t understand this game, and I’m not sure how to play when I don’t even know the rules.

I will ruin you
. Selah’s words repeat on a loop in my head. Even if I don’t understand anything else, I know she means it. She’s done it to McKenna. She’s absolutely ruthless. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do; how am I supposed to keep working for her when she clearly hates me? But I can’t leave; she’ll probably see that as a personal attack.

My phone starts ringing, and I know who it is before I grab it. Just the same, seeing Brody’s name on the screen makes my stomach plummet. I hit “Decline” and silence it and shove the phone to the bottom of my bag. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, but I know I don’t have the courage to say it right now. And I can’t have the conversation with Selah nearby.

I can only focus on one thing at a time; right now that
thing
is my ability to stop crying. I swipe a tissue under my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I turn on the Frankie Valli station on Pandora, because
no one
can be sad listening to Frankie Valli, and I remind myself for the hundredth time that I’ve come too far to fail now.

Once my hands stop shaking and my heart rate slows down I open up my e-mail and get back to work.

I spend the next several days sick to my stomach, waiting for more fallout from Selah. But maybe she feels confident in the level of fear she’s inflicted, because she’s gone back to being her regular disdainful self. We never mention Barker-Ash again. Brody sends me several text messages and leaves a handful of voice mails, all of which I delete without opening.

The more I think about it, the stupider I feel. Of course he was interested, he’d told me himself that I was different. For someone who’d probably grown tired of the same easy women, my inexperience would seem like a fun new distraction. Or maybe he did think I was trying to sleep my way to the top like the others, and that this is all some kind of game we were playing together.

The whole idea really upsets me. If I am being honest with myself, I really liked Brody, and even though it was naive I’d thought he really liked me too. So whenever I start thinking about it, I open up a timeline or reconfirm a delivery or answer another e-mail in far more detail than is necessary. At night I have trouble sleeping, and when I lie in bed too long I keep crying. So I mostly try not to go to bed. I work nearly around the clock and thank God for Sundance more than once because there is plenty of work to keep me busy.

On Wednesday morning I finish packing my suitcase for my afternoon flight to Salt Lake City, and I head into the bathroom to finish my hair and makeup. I give myself one brief, sad moment to acknowledge how thin my face looks and how dark the circles are under my eyes.

Don’t be dramatic, Landon. You should be ecstatic. You’re working a film festival!

I give myself a mental pep talk and pull out the under-eye concealer to cover up the worst of it.

“What’s going on with you?” Max demands from the doorway.

She is in her disheveled morning glory and is glaring at me through the smudge of last night’s makeup.

“I’m just getting ready for the airport; my flight is this afternoon.”

“Bullshit!” she barks so loudly that I jump. “You’ve been avoiding me all week and Miko too . . . and Brody for that matter.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” I keep applying my makeup and refuse to make eye contact. Maybe if I act like I’m nonchalant, she’ll leave me alone.

“You think I want to talk about him with you?” She sighs, annoyed. “He keeps bugging me about how you are, and he says you won’t return his calls—”

“Max, I swear on all that is holy if you don’t stop talking—” My voice starts to vibrate with anger. Anger is good. Anger I can handle, because at least if I’m angry I’m not crying.