Party Girl (30 page)

Chapter TWENTY-SIX

“Thanks, Nick.” I smile at the server as he refills my coffee cup for the umpteenth time today. My laptop is sitting in the midst of various piles of paperwork on the table I’ve commandeered. For the last three weeks I’ve come to the coffee shop down the street from my apartment every day to work. Most days Miko meets me here, but today she’s having lunch with one of her friends, who’s a web guy, to try and talk him into designing a website on our measly tech budget (which is basically like seventeen dollars). The whole prospect of having our own events company is terrifying, but we’re both focusing on what we do best. With her designs and my ability to keep an event organized and in-line, I think we have the potential to create something really great.

When I finally turned my phone back on after my week in bed, I found a voice mail from Diego telling me to call him immediately. When I worked up the courage to do so, he raved about my work on Sundance and told me he’d heard I’d branched out on my own. I’m sure someone at Barker-Ash encouraged him to reach out, but when he offered to let me produce a small taste-maker event for them next month, I’m not stupid enough to turn down the offer.

I’d put together a proposal based on exactly the same kind of numbers Selah would charge because, I figure, if they’d pay for her at that price, I might as well try for the same. Once we booked the event with him, Miko convinced me that since we’ve basically declared war by poaching an SSE client, we might as well go for broke. I’m not interested in stealing business, but I do reach out to a few of the clients to whom I’d been closest.

When Paige Blakely gave birth to her beautiful baby girl, Kherington, I had Daddy ship her enough brisket to feed a small army. She was so touched that I remembered, she asked me to help her with the christening after-party. I didn’t even know those existed but I am thrilled to book my first celebrity client. The party is only a few weeks away so I need to spend most of the afternoon working on it, but first I have to get everything squared away with Diego’s paperwork.

The current budget breakdown I am working on is taking forever, but Diego has an uncanny ability to remember every line item so I want it to be perfect before I send it over.

I sense the server walk up to the table again, and I reach a hand out to cover my coffee cup.

“I’m good, thanks. If I have any more, I won’t sleep for a week.” I look up to smile at him.

Brody is standing there in jeans and that faded red hoodie. He smiles sheepishly.

“You never texted back.”

“You need a new line,” I say, and slide my hands down on the table to brace myself.

“Can I sit?”

“Sure.” I wave at the chair across from mine and lower my laptop screen to see him better. I don’t feel nervous, or sad, or upset. I just feel sort of resigned.

“I forced your location from Max.”

“It’s OK.”

“I wanted to apologize to you—”

“It’s OK.”

“No. It’s not OK.” He speaks emphatically. “It’s inexcusable. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst, and Max has reminded me more than once what an asshole I am because of it.”

I look right at him, because I want him to understand what I’m about to say. I take a deep breath. “In a lot of ways you were right, though. I did end up in bed with him.”

Brody winces but I keep going. “And even though nothing happened, it’s not something I’m proud of. If you were upset by what you saw, it’s because I allowed myself to be put in that position. You wouldn’t have been there at all that day if you weren’t checking on me. I’m sorry about everything—”

“You don’t have to apologize—”

“No, let me finish. I’ve thought about this a lot and what I wish I would have said to you that day—what I need you to know.” I look up and he nods for me to continue.

“I wasn’t playing any kind of game with you. I wasn’t pretending to be something I’m not. I know it’s hard to believe that anyone could be this gullible or naive, but I really am most of the time.” I smile sadly. “And I hope it doesn’t sound ridiculous, but it would make me feel a lot better if you understand that I’m really not, like—like other girls who’ve done stuff like that to you before.”

My voice cracks on the last few words, but I’m pretty proud of myself for keeping the tears in check.

“God, Landon, of course!” He sounds almost desperate. “I said so many stupid things that day, and I’m so sorry. In business, you’re supposed to leave emotion out of it, and I tend to be good at that. But with you, I just—” He sighs, seemingly at a loss for words, but then he continues. “The way I acted was inexcusable, and in light of that, what you did for me, for my family . . .” He searches for the words. “That was one of the most mature things I’ve ever seen. Thank you. You are such a bigger person than I am.”

I nod to let him know I heard him and run an index finger through the water ring on the table.

“We never even got a chance to—but then we’ve been through all of these really intense situations together—and I . . . I just wish we could start again.”

“We’ve already done that once.”

“I know,” he says and runs a hand back and forth through his hair. “You’re right. We have already done that once. So maybe we just keep going from here to—wherever—somewhere, I don’t know.” He looks right at me. “Look, I know I don’t really deserve it, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you out. A real date this time.” His voice is earnest.

The air around us both feels heavy and tense, and it makes me sad because I remember a time when we were relaxed and playful; I remember how he kissed my fingertips to keep them warm. But those kisses are blurred by harsher memories of crying in the snow, and I know this is one game I can’t join in again. He is so far beyond my scope of understanding, and I don’t think I’d survive another round.

“Brody, I like you a lot, maybe too much—”

“I didn’t know that was a bad thing,” he teases, and for a moment he looks like that boy who tried to teach me how to surf.

“I’m just—I’m trying to figure out myself right now. I don’t think I can do that and figure us out at the same time.”

He blows all the air out of his lungs like he’s been holding his breath. Finally he stands up with a sad smile.

“Can we still be friends?” he asks quietly.

I start to shake my head no because I’m unsure how I’m supposed to be friends with someone I want to kiss this badly. But my head is nodding on its own.

“I’d like that,” I tell him.

He smiles back down at me and then turns his head sideways to read some of the scribbles in my notebook. He points down at my list of ideas for company names.

“I like this one,” he says with a grin.

I see what he’s pointing at and smile too.

“The definition is ‘a fashionable lifestyle, ideology, or pursuit
.
’
 ”
Feels like that’s all I’ve done since I moved here. You don’t think it sounds too girly?”

“Chic Events,” he says, testing it out. “No, I think it sounds just like you.”

Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

“Have y’all seen my wings?” Paige calls into the living room where Miko and I are huddled on ladders, hanging individual white garden roses on fishing line so they appear to be floating.

“No ma’am, I thought your hairstylist had them,” I call down to her.

“Landon, don’t call me ‘ma’am’; it makes me feel old!” She laughs, then hurries off in a flurry of white gauze in search of her wings.

When she told us she wanted an angel theme for her baby’s christening party I didn’t so much as bat an eye. It might not have been my first choice (and it most definitely wasn’t Miko’s), but our job is to make our client’s vision come to life as beautifully as possible, not to tell them what that vision should be. And so we’d spent the last couple days turning Paige’s sprawling home into, well, heaven . . . or at least heaven as interpreted by us.

Each table is covered by white silk and topped with dozens of white candles at varying heights. The white roses hanging from the ceiling are gorgeous and make the whole house smell amazing. A huge golden harp is being set up in the entryway so the music can spill into the rest of the house, and all the guests have been asked to wear white to match the theme. Paige and her two-month-old are wearing matching white gowns and matching wings . . . if she ever figures out where she’s left them.

We are just finishing up our work with the decor when we hear Paige scream from the other room. I’ve learned long ago with her that she’s loud and a little crazy, so the scream could be because she saw a spider, won the lottery, or just found a cute sweater online; you never could be sure. I climb down the ladder and roll my eyes at Miko.

“I’ll just make sure everything is OK.”

“Good idea.” She smiles back.

As I’m walking through the room, the sounds of Paige’s squeals are growing more pronounced. So I’m surprised when I come into the entryway and find her there with her boyfriend.

Privately, Miko and I refer to Damon Kress as Paige’s baby daddy, but to the rest of the world he is the lead singer of Liquid Six, a hugely popular rock band that continues to blow away both critics and existing record sales with each new album. He looks like he should be in a biker gang and is tattooed to the hilt, but he turns into an absolute gummy bear every time Paige is around. And I’d rarely, if ever, seen a grown man so in love with his own baby.

Paige is still giggling and squealing when I walk in, and they are locked in an embrace so tight I feel like I’m intruding.

“I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.” I turn to go.

“No, Landon, come look! Come look at what DK got me!” she yells after me.

I turn back around obligingly and am nearly trampled by Paige as she hurries towards me with Damon in tow. She waves her left hand wildly towards my face. The diamond on her finger is so big I embarrass myself by gasping.

“It’s my Push Present!” She beams. “He meant to get it before Kher-Bear was born but she came so early and there wasn’t time. He surprised me today! We’re gettin’ married, Landon, can you believe it?” She doesn’t wait for my response but jumps back into his arms and hops up and down a few more times like a little girl.

“Oh, congratulations, guys! I’m so happy for you.” I can’t mean it more.

“Thanks,” Damon manages right before Paige grabs his face for a kiss.

“Come on, DK, let’s go tell Kherington! She’ll be so excited!”

Paige starts to pull him towards the stairs as I turn to head back into the living room to finish up before the guests arrive. They are almost to the top when Paige turns and yells down to me.

“Girl, in case I forget to tell you later, everything looks real,
real
pretty. I can’t wait to see what y’all come up with for the wedding!”

She doesn’t wait to see the surprised look on my face, but it’s still there when I walk back into the room with Miko.

“What was all that about?” she asks as she hangs the last of the roses.

“I think . . .” I try to hold back my grin and fail. “I think we just booked our first wedding.”

Later that night I wander down the street with Taylor, doing a pretty good job of walking in high heels on the rough terrain of a Hollywood sidewalk.

Over the last several weeks he’s let us take him out for coffee or dinner or drinks at least a dozen times in exchange for answers to our endless questions about production and timelines. He’s been absolutely invaluable as we learn to navigate the waters of independent event planning, and he’s quickly become one of my closest friends. He’s agreed to come with me to Max’s birthday party tonight because he knows I’m nervous about the prospect of seeing Brody again after almost a month.

I teeter along next to him in my high, high shoes that are necessary when I’m wearing my short shorts. I’ve paired them with a vintage T-shirt and black blazer, and my hair is big and wavy. The whole outfit says, “I’m too cool and confident to wear a dress to this ritzy bar.” So you know it took me hours to pull it together. The question of why I’m working so hard to look good for someone I’ve turned down isn’t something I want to explore too deeply.

“So is Sara the one that you like or—” I ask, interrupting Taylor’s recounting of his latest date.

“Sort of . . . I mean, yes. I like her. I wouldn’t have asked her out if I didn’t. But Julianne keeps popping back up and—”

“Wait, I thought Julianne was the crazy one.” I look over at him, confused, just as we arrive at the front of the club.

“She
is
the crazy one.” He looks equally confused by my confusion.

“But why would you want to date a crazy girl?” I ask, pulling my ID out of my clutch to show the doorman.

“Because crazy girls are kind of hot,” he says, handing his ID over too.

At my shocked expression he looks to the bouncer for confirmation.

“True or not true?” he challenges him.

The doorman looks back and forth between us, and laughs.

“True.”

I roll my eyes in disgust at them both and head in the door. “You men deserve whatever rabbit-boiling scenario dating crazy women gets you. I wash my hands of this.”

Taylor follows me into the dark lounge, still laughing at my reaction as we snake our way through the crowd to the back bar where Max’s party is gathering.

We wade through another huge cluster of people, and I see Max is already at the bar with Miko and a pretty big collection of school and work friends. Brody and Liam are at the bar talking to each other, and I’m so grateful that he’s not there with a date I exhale a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

“You ready for this, Brinks?” Taylor whispers in my ear, startling me.

I didn’t realize I’d stopped walking. I turn to stare at him in wide-eyed panic.

“How’s my hair?” I demand.

“Large and in charge. Now come on.” He spins me back around, and we keep walking. I head right to Max who is, shockingly, wearing a skirt for the occasion. It’s a leather mini and she’s paired it with an old Queen T-shirt, but it’s a skirt just the same, and it makes her legs look about a hundred miles long.

“Happy birthday!” I reach out to hug her.

She’s gotten better about me hugging her and bears it with the same stoicism she reserves for all my other “necessary signs of emotion.”

“Can I buy you a drink or—”

Her eyes narrow at Taylor, and she abruptly cuts me off.

“Who are you?” she demands.

I start to intercede before she offends him, but Taylor doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Who are you?” he challenges her back.

“Are you serious?” She scowls at him.

“In general? Or right this moment?” he says, and then God help him, he actually smirks at her.

Her eyes narrow dangerously, and I look at Miko for help, but she’s watching the whole thing like a spectator sport.

“Do you actually sit around and dream up clever responses so you have them at the ready?”

“So you think I’m clever?” Taylor takes a step closer to her, and I watch her eyes grow bigger at the audacity. Usually by this point guys have run off in the other direction.

“Maybe . . .” She dangles an empty shot glass between her fingers. “But just like all the other girls you know, it’s taken me three shots of tequila to arrive at that destination.”

I look back and forth between them nervously and whisper to Miko. “Should we do something?”

“Are you kidding me?” Miko looks at me with an evil gleam in her eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this little intro for months!”

“Can I get either one of you a drink?” I ask Taylor and Max in an attempt to distract them. Neither acknowledges me from the depths of their staring contest.

“OK,” I say to no one in particular and turn around to head to the bar. I catch Brody’s eye before I remember that I was going to try and ease into this moment, not run for it headlong.

Nothing for it now . . .

I head over to where he and Liam are sitting at the bar.

“Hi guys!” I paste on my best smile.

Liam stands up to give me a hug and a perfunctory LA kiss on the cheek, and my stomach drops out because that sort of awkwardly sets the standard for greeting. I brace myself for the feel of Brody’s lips on my cheek, so when all he does is raise his glass in salute I feel oddly bereft.

“Since you’re here now to keep this guy company, I’ll excuse myself. I’m half an hour late for a date already.” Liam gestures for me to take his stool.

“You always did know how to impress the ladies,” Brody calls after him.

“Not a complaint yet, big brother.” Liam laughs over his shoulder without looking back. “Not a complaint yet.”

I scramble to think of something to say as I take my seat but I’m saved for a moment by the bartender’s arrival.

“What would you like?” Brody asks before the server can.

“Jack rocks, please.”

The bartender nods and turns to make the drink, and even though I’m not looking at him I can feel Brody’s stare. I pretend to be enthralled with the creation of a cocktail that has exactly one ingredient.

“Unexpected,” Brody says as the glass is set down in front of me.

I take a sip while turning to look at him, hoping the liquor will help with this whole staring into the sun thing. He really is just stupid good-looking.

“I like unexpected.” I try for cheeky and repeat the line I told him months ago. “Unexpected could turn into a lot of things.”

“God, I hope so.” He says it with far more gravity than the situation warrants.

I’ve told myself a million times that it probably took Brody Ashton all of five minutes to move on to his next date after the last time I’d seen him. I’ve come here tonight expecting to see a goddess on his arm or, at the very least, a Russian model. I’d never anticipated him coming alone or our conversation turning intense so quickly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond, so I grasp for something to talk about.

“We produced our first event today.”

He can always be counted on to navigate away from awkward conversation and today is no exception.

“How did it turn out?” He takes a sip of his beer.

“It turned out great.” I can’t help but smile at the memory of Paige and Kherington dressed as angels. “I think the client was really happy.”

“That’s fantastic, Landon. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you. I’m pretty happy for me too.” I grin at him and he smiles back. Before I can even guess at what that smile means he stands up and waves at the bartender.

“Scotty, just keep my tab open. Whatever they want tonight, OK?”

When I realize he’s leaving, my heart starts to shrivel up and die like one of those time-lapsed flowers in ninth-grade science. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“You half an hour late for a date too?”

Kill. Me.

Brody stops moving and looks down at me in surprise. I want to beat my head against the top of the bar repeatedly until I pass out and can forget the last two minutes, but some masochistic side of me needs to hear his answer just the same.

“No,” he says with his almost-smile. “I’m covering for Marco tonight at the club.”

“Of course. I’m sorry I said anything. It was rude of me to ask.” I shrug awkwardly.

His smile gets a little bigger as he considers me.

“Don’t be sorry . . . That worried look on your face just now gave me more hope than I’ve had in a while.”

The look on my face now must be one of utter shock because it makes him chuckle. He leans down and kisses me lightly on the cheek, and it feels so good I have to fight the urge to rub my face against his like a cat.

He pulls back and looks into my eyes. I open and close my mouth like a goldfish struggling to find the right words or the courage to say them. Neither comes.

“Tomorrow, or next week, or the middle of the night a year from now . . . I hope you’ll call me when you figure out whatever it is you want to say.”

He kisses me once more, on the forehead this time, and then he’s gone. And I know I’m young, and fairly inexperienced where men are concerned, but I’m positive that even when I’m ninety years old I’ll still remember exactly what it feels like to have his lips on my skin.