Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (11 page)

Sitting up in my chair a little taller and pulling a pencil out of my hair, I said with enthusiasm, “Well, now you have my attention! Tell me all about this Liam.”

In short, it turned out that Liam was from Ireland and worked as a graphic designer for some technology company in Dublin. Currently he was in New York on an extended business trip; something having to do with high-end Irish fashion designers in the U.S.

“Are you sure he isn’t gay? He’s good-looking, a graphic designer, and interested in fashion?” I asked, pointing out the salient facts.

“Of course he isn’t gay! He’s researching the stuff, not wearing it.” She laughed. “Why would I fix you up with someone who’s gay? It’d be a waste of both your time! Charlotte, he really is nice, and he would feel less like a third wheel if you came. We could go out on a double date this weekend, then you can decide for yourself if you think Liam’s charms are enough to make you put up with my mother for a whole weekend.”

“For real?” I contemplated the pros and cons for a few seconds. “Oh, all right! Set things up for Saturday, if you can. He’d better be as good-looking as you say he is! I don’t really care if he’s nice. I’m just looking for sex!” I waggled my eyebrows up and down, causing her to laugh.

Before we could continue, the phone rang. In the outer office, I heard Evelle answer in a quiet voice. My phone soon buzzed with the announcement that I had an overseas phone call.

Taylor jumped up from her chair. “You’d better get back to it. I’ll let you know about Saturday.” The door closed softly behind her.

I took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Charlotte Young speaking,” I said in my most professional voice.

“Darling, it’s Tiziana! How are you? Tell me, do you know yet when you plan to arrive in London?”

I relaxed again into the cozy comfort of my chair and settled in for a long chat with her. “There’s a high probability that I’ll be in London sometime in early August. The planning is going surprisingly well. But since all I’ve done is work, it
should
be going well. With any luck, I’ll tie up all my loose ends here by the holidays and then live there on a permanent basis.”

She squealed as I filled her in, and we chatted excitedly about my new life. I asked her if she could make it to London for Christmas and New Year’s, letting her know that Marian and Kathleen had tentatively agreed.

“Well, darling, that’s one of the reasons I’m calling. I have some news!” she trilled dramatically.

“Don’t tell me, you and Gianni are getting married at long last!” I guessed, my voice full of delight. I sat upright in my chair.

“I
am
getting married, but darling, not to Gianni! I’ve met a very delightful man who loves me very much. Gianni is wonderful, but when I met this other person, I just couldn’t stop thinking of him. Once I realized how important he had become to me, I told Gianni. Gianni was disappointed, of course, but he’ll be fine! He’ll meet someone else soon,” she managed to say all this in one long breath.

“What? Who? Tell me!” I sputtered, confused but delighted at the knowledge that my friend was truly happy. All I could hear was the lilting rapid fire of Italian in the background. Due to the time difference, it was the end of the workday in Italy. “Where are you calling me from?”

“I’m calling from the office. Everyone is saying ‘ciao’ before they leave. Charlotte, I know you’re terribly busy at work. But we’re hoping that all our friends can meet together in Saint-Tropez in August, the first week. The wedding itself will be in the afternoon on December 31. You know my mother, she would like it to be in the summer, but we don’t want to wait until next year, and there’s no way we can arrange a wedding in just a few months. Every church in Italy has been reserved for the last year. Besides, what a lovely way to start the New Year!” Tiziana paused only briefly to draw breath before going on to describe the details.

While listening to the preparations being made for the wedding, I flipped through my calendar. Depressed, I couldn’t see how I could take a vacation in August, just four short months away.

I broke the news. “I can promise you that I’ll be at the wedding, but I really can’t imagine getting time to go to Saint-Tropez, especially at the beginning of August. The new offices in London are scheduled to be up and running by the end of September. Perhaps if things are going well, I could come to Italy for a few days at the end of August. I can’t promise anything.”

Obviously disappointed but understanding, she assured me, “Oh, bella! It won’t be the same without you. But don’t worry, darling! I know you’ll do what you can.”

It suddenly occurred to me. “Tiziana, have you told Hillary, Kathleen, and Marian? I’ve spoken to them recently, and I know that they were all planning on coming to London for the holidays.”

A brief silence followed, and I could hear more Italian salutations in the background. “I spent the day calling them. They’re all available to come to the wedding. If you are,” she replied a bit hesitantly.

That sounded very odd to me, adding a new knot to the group already living in my stomach. “What does their attending have to do with me?” I asked suspiciously.

After a long pause and a deep sigh, she said, “Well, darling, you see, Des Bannerman will be at the wedding.”

I sat in silence. Flabbergasted, I was trying to figure out how this could make sense. To what world had I been transported that not only had a celebrity filed a restraining order against me, but said celebrity was now attending the wedding of my closest friend? None of this was making sense.

“Tiziana, why would Des Bannerman be at your wedding?” I dreaded the answer, dreaded what this could bring into my life.

I heard the gnawing of her teeth on her fingernail. “Well, darling, the man who I’m marrying is Ted.”

“Ted who?” burst out of me.

“Ted Blackwell, darling. Des’s friend. The one we met in the casino in Chamonix.”

“Oh!
That
Ted.” I’d completely forgotten all about him. Clearly Tiziana hadn’t!

Quickly rushing into a rehearsed monologue, she said, “Naturally, Ted will help sort all of this out. After how hurt and angry you were, Marian, Hillary, and Kathleen decided that they would spend the holidays with you if you didn’t want to come to the wedding.”

I sat stupefied. Sides were already being drawn!

I stayed calm, up to a point. “First, with regards to Mr. Bannerman, my hurt and anger aren’t in the past tense! They’re still very much a part of the here and now. After telling you how my life has been since I returned to work, how could you expect that all was forgotten?”

My anger rising, I continued, “I don’t even know what I did, but, because of some delusional belief on his part that all women want to have sex with him, on top of everything else, now I can’t attend your wedding! It isn’t whether I want to or not. It’s whether I
can
or not! God! His ego is unbelievable! He probably didn’t spare a moment’s thought considering how his ludicrous fantasies might affect anyone. I can’t explain how embarrassing it has been to explain this to my family and friends. Every day I walk into this office and have to deal with someone looking at me funny! My boss is furious and making my life hell!” By then, my anger was at a fever pitch, and I found myself standing up, gripping the phone and shouting at Tiziana.

“
Shush
,
shush
! I’m so sorry, darling. I’ve put off this call as long as possible. I didn’t want to be the one to cause you any more unhappiness,” she said in a soothing voice, doing her best to comfort me. “Please! Ted will speak with him. I’m sure there was a misunderstanding, and as soon as he realizes that he made a terrible mistake, he’ll be begging you for forgiveness.”

“His ego is too large for him to contemplate that he’s made a mistake. Ted will be wasting his time. Why hasn’t he talked to him before now? Anyway, why does Des Bannerman have to be at the wedding?” I ranted in a very ugly tone.

After a lengthy pause, she cleared her throat and rushed into her explanation. “Well, you see, he’ll be Ted’s best man. They’ve been friends for years, and it’s only natural that Ted would want Des at his wedding.”

My mind reeled. I truly couldn’t take this all in. How does one absorb the fact that one of the celebrity gods atop Mt. Famous has become a normal character in everyday conversation? How does someone like Des Bannerman become a part of the background of weddings, holidays, and vacations?

And then,
bam
! Right between the eyes, I realized it. “You’ve seen him, Des Bannerman, since we were in France, haven’t you?”

It was now very quiet in Italy. “Yes,” was the whispered reply.

***

It was Saturday morning, and I’d been looking forward to my first day off in months. Sleep was all I’d wanted. Instead, the phone rang repeatedly.

It wasn’t the first time I had heard all this, it was the third!

The general outline:

The phone rings.

The answering machine picks it up, and Taylor’s happy voice inquires if the caller would like to leave a message.

An anxious voice asks for me.

I ignore the anxious voice.

The voice apologizes for not having told me that she knew about Tiziana and Ted (and, consequently, Des).

The voice assures me that Ted will sort things out with Des.

The caller asks me to call back.

I hadn’t called any of them. In addition to the fact that Tiziana was marrying Des Bannerman’s best friend, I’d absorbed the fact that Marian, Hillary, and Kathleen had all known that Tiziana was involved with Ted.

Taylor, hearing Kathleen leave her message, candidly suggested that I was behaving like a spoiled brat and ought to be happy for my friend. After a lengthy tirade from me about what it was like to have been used and abused by Des and the press and
then
left in the dark by my friends, she didn’t approach the subject again. I spent the remainder of the morning lying listlessly on the sofa, huddled under an enormous pink fluffy blanket, my armor against the world.

At some point in the morning, Taylor reminded me of my date with Liam that evening. “I’m not going! I’m not in a flirty mood. My nasty mood would put a serious damper on the evening.”

“Well, too bad for you. I’ve told him you’ll be there, and I’m not about to tell him that you can’t make it because you’d rather mope around like a three-year-old who lost her favorite toy.” She grabbed my hand, trying to pull me off the sofa.

“Ouch! What are you doing?” I asked while trying to pry her talons from my flesh.

“You look like crap! Your roots need touching up, your eyebrows need a wax, your nails need a manicure, and who knows what state your legs are in! We’re going out and making you look like a woman again!”

“Well, that was just rude!” I dragged myself in the direction of the bathroom.

One shower later, I pulled my coat on, knowing she was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it to her. If I did that, she might ask me why I was behaving like a toddler, and I didn’t want to talk about “it” anymore.

“You’re lucky I didn’t mention the state of your upper lip,” she said with a smile when we reached the salon. I nudged her hard with my elbow and then submitted to the frivolous indulgence of body maintenance.

After spending an amazing amount of time and money on my appearance, I had to admit that the world seemed a better place, and I wouldn’t mind a little light flirtation.

“Don’t worry, once you lay your eyes on Liam, you’ll be up for more than flirtation,” she assured me.

“What makes you think he’s going to be all that interested?”

“I told him that you were stunningly beautiful, but way too short to be a supermodel.”

I gasped at her description of me. “He’s going to be really disappointed! If he finishes his first drink and bolts out of the bar, it will be you who’ll be paying the bill while I drown my sorrows in martinis.” I laughed.

My height was always a part of every conversation whenever I met someone new. My lack of verticality used to really bother me, but now I see it as an excellent excuse to buy expensive, beautiful, high-heeled shoes. My collection was massive.

She gestured at me, pointing head to toe. “He’s not going to be disappointed. You’re beautiful! What’s not to like? You’re thin and curvy, which is totally unfair. You have curly hair, which looks gorgeous even when you don’t shower for days! You have what I call elusive beauty; quirky exotic, low maintenance, great bones.”

“You’re great for my ego! Thanks! I appreciate all that you’ve done today. Sorry I’ve been such a cow!” I admitted.

Since we had an hour until the date would officially begin, she suggested we open a bottle of wine. She brought me a glass, which I held up to let the afternoon light filter through it. I had taken a few sips of the wine when my taste buds reminded me of the last time I’d had a glass of Beaujolais.

“The last time I had a glass of red wine was the night Tiziana cooked dinner in Chamonix. The paparazzi had just published the first set of pictures of me with Des Bannerman. Sorry, but my taste for it is gone.” I took my glass to the kitchen and returned with another filled with Chardonnay.

We had never discussed the particulars of my encounters with Des. I’d been too angry when I first returned, and most of my friends learned that, if they wished to remain on speaking terms with me, we weren’t discussing it.

Taylor commented, as she examined her manicure, “I’m not sure I picked the right color. I had my nails painted pink to compliment my dress, but the pink is too pink. What do you think?”

I shook my head to clear the images of Des as I looked at her. “Other than the fact that you sound like Dr. Seuss, you’re being a very good friend by not asking about my fifteen minutes of fame. If you want, you can ask me questions.”

“Really? You are finally ready to answer questions? A day of beauty and a date with Liam was all it took? If I’d known that, I would have dragged you to the salon months ago.”

She drilled me thoroughly about my foray into stardom. We were laughing pretty hard about Des wearing tighty-whities when we realized we had just enough time to freshen our lipstick.