by Jill Winters
"Maybe..." Rick said speculatively. Susanna's e-mail might have just arrived late in Brett's in box; it was probably coincidental that yesterday, after Susanna had told Brett to check his e-mail, he'd found an anonymous, threatening note rather than her friendly message. Probably. But Rick couldn't be too sure about anything at this point. As it was, so far there didn't seem to be a damn ominous thing about Brett's work life or the people who surrounded him. If anything, everyone seemed to buzz around, too busy to stop and schmooze, much less to stalk. Of course, you never knew who was nursing a secret grudge...
And there was no denying the calls he'd gotten or that e-mail saying he'd die before he made it to Hawaii. The Hawaii thing was the lynchpin. Brett had said that nobody knew about the upcoming Hawaiian show, except for certain people who were in the know at the network.
But then again...
Couldn't Brett have mentioned it, just casually, to any of the girls he was seeing? So Rick asked him that now. Brett stopped to think. "No, no, I'm not really seeing anybody right now." Rick looked at him doubtfully. "Well, except for... no, that doesn't count. We just screw."
Lucky girl, Rick thought sarcastically. "Who is it?"
Brett waved his hand to dismiss the point and stood, shutting his laptop with a click as he rose to his feet. "No, it's not her. Believe me. We fuck around, but it's a casual thing. For both of us." Brett tilted his head, as though thinking about it more, then added, "Even though you wouldn't think she'd be the type, but..."
"But she knows about the Hawaii trip?"
"I can't remember if I mentioned it or not. But it doesn't matter."
"Still, you should tell me who it is," Rick said.
Brett shook his head. "Trust me, it's not her. She has no reason. Besides... she likes to keep me happy."
* * *
"Sorry I smell."
"I'm going to kill you if you tell me that again," Gretchen said. "For the tenth time, you don't smell." Dana shot her a disbelieving look. "Okay, yes, I can smell it. But I like it. That's what I'm trying to tell you."
"G, I spilled half a bottle of Tommy Girl on me, and if I want to lash out at the world, the least you could do is sit there and take it—"
"I thought I was—"
"—with grace and dignity."
"Oh, I apologize," Gretchen said with a giggle. "So back to what you were saying."
"Well, forget it now," Dana said, grinning. She held the door open for Gretchen, who stepped inside Starbucks first.
"Think of it this way," Gretchen remarked, glancing over her shoulder as Dana followed her in. "You always said you wanted to bring Tommy Girl back to its heyday; maybe this will help."
Teasingly, Dana squinted down at her. "You're not patronizing me now, are you?"
The Starbucks was a five-minute walk from their apartment. As always, the warmly lit ambience was instantly comforting. In tonight's case, though, the blaring reggae music seemed out of place, and the overcrowded seating shaved off a fraction of the comfort. The people behind the counter were bouncing up and down while they made drinks; clearly the music was a renegade staff selection.
"What do you want?" Gretchen asked, turning to Dana as they inched up in line.
"A caramel mochachino," she said.
Nodding, Gretchen said, "Go sit down. I'll get it for you."
"No. Thanks, but I have to tell him how to make it." Gretchen shot her a look, which Dana missed. "Excuse me, can I have a caramel mochachino—two parts mocha, two parts caramel, one part chino? Extra whipped cream. Thanks."
The heavily freckled server with blond dreadlocks just looked at her, scrunched his face, and reared his head back. "Whoooh!" he exclaimed, making a motion of waving his open palm across his nose. "Someone stinks like man's cologne! Is that you?" he said, looking straight at Gretchen and still waving his dirty hand across his nose.
"No, of course not," Dana said indignantly, her haughtiness completely believable. She gave Gretchen a look that said Where do they find these people?
And Gretchen whispered, "One part chino? What's that?"
"That's the milk," Dana replied quietly. "I think he gets the point." Meanwhile, Dana's not-guilty act was flawless except for the fact that she edged back a good ten inches from the counter when the guy turned around. "Sorry for reeking," she whispered to her cousin.
Once they were sitting at a tiny table in the corner, complete with milk puddles and sticky patches of dried syrup, Dana made an important announcement. "So, guess what? I got a callback!"
"Oh my God, Dana, that's great!" Gretchen enthused. "When is it?"
"Tomorrow. I'm just gonna blow off work and go."
"Can you do that?" Gretchen asked, a bit concerned. If Dana wasn't careful, all her truancy was going to get her in trouble.
She obviously didn't think so. With a scoff, Dana waved her hand through the air. "No biggie. They'll never even notice."
"Okay, if you're sure..."
Dana sipped her drink, then made a face. "This is all wrong," she murmured with mild disappointment.
"I'm so excited for you; this is big news. I'm so proud of you!" Gretchen said with a smile. "Why didn't you tell me on the way over?"
"I wanted to hear about your day, which, actually, we're not done talking about."
"We're not?"
"I still think you're crazy if you don't go to Romeo Ramero's party this weekend. God! Do you know how many people would kill to trade places with you? I mean, a personal invite from the stud himself! What more do you want?"
"I don't know... I just wanted to stay in and relax this weekend..."
"You're telling me you'd rather stay home to watch me polish Marcia's silver and cry?" Clearly Dana considered it a personal injury for Gretchen to miss the untouchable Romeo Ramero's party. She was counting on her to give her all the details.
"Please," Gretchen said, rolling her eyes. "Don't act like I'm the guest of honor or something. He asked me only because I was standing there with his brother."
"Don't even get me started on the brother," Dana said with a shake of her head and took a sip of her drink. "I still cannot believe he's related to Romeo Ramero." When Gretchen had filled her in on the connection earlier that evening, she'd been appropriately shocked. "I'm telling you, if you're not careful, you guys'll probably end up getting married."
"What!" Gretchen yelped, stunned by the comment.
"I'm serious. The whole coincidence, running into him again—everything. It's just too weird. Like a Sleepless in Seattle kind of thing."
Skeptically, Gretchen wrinkled her face. "It's nothing like that," she said.
Dana shrugged. "Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, how can you not want to go to that party? Don't you want to see his house?"
"Not particularly. I don't know. I guess I don't just feel like being all sociable this weekend."
"You're too shy," Dana said matter-of-factly. "That's always been your problem."
"I'm not that shy," Gretchen argued. "Well, not shy, but a recluse."
"Is that the best euphemism for shy that you can come up with?" Gretchen couldn't deny that she had been shy when she was younger. Her mom always said it was because she was "young for her grade," but in any case, it was only after Dana moved to Kaplan, Connecticut, that she'd come out of her shell. Dana had spent her senior year at the same high school where Gretchen was a sophomore, and having Dana there had made such a difference. Before Dana had moved close by, Gretchen had always spent her afternoons after school alone. Watching her favorite cooking show and experimenting with recipes, partly to dazzle her parents when they came home from their long, hectic jobs.
She'd had friends, of course, but the low-key kind you sat next to in honors classes and in the cafeteria, the kind you occasionally went to the movies with on Saturday. But on a day-to-day basis, the truth was... Gretchen had been very lonely. She hadn't really realized how much so until Dana came bursting onto the scene, making everything in Kaplan much more interesting. Even so
mething simple like going to get frozen yogurt could turn into a minidrama with Dana—but in a good way. She always had some overblown story about something that had happened to her, or some scheme she was cooking up. And she'd pulled Gretchen into her bubbly world. After that, Gretchen had been more confident, in school and out. She'd even formed a "cooking club" during her junior year. Granted, nobody else had signed up, but hey, at least she'd tried.
When she'd gotten to college, she had found a niche of friends. Unfortunately she'd lost touch with many of them between culinary school and then her move to California.
"This is Romeo Ramero we're talking about!" Dana was saying.
"And you said yourself he looks pretty much the same in real life as he does on TV." For a moment Gretchen waited for the larger point, and then it became patently clear that that was the larger point. "He is so hot," Dana mused, dreamily holding her steaming cup by her mouth. "And who knows? You and he could end up hanging out. Talking, sharing a few drinks, etcetera, etcetera. Need I say more?"
With a brief laugh, Gretchen said, "I doubt I'm Romeo Ramero's type. And he's not mine, either. I know you're gonna find this hard to believe, but I'm actually not the least bit attracted to him."
Dana gasped.
"I know, it's an atrocity, but it's true."
"But how can this be?" she said dramatically, yet genuinely confounded. "This reminds me of when we were younger and you didn't think Brad Pitt was cute, either."
"He was okay..."
Dana shook her head. "You're so weird." After another sip of her coffee drink, she tapped her fingers on her paper cup and glanced more covertly at Gretchen. "So if you're not interested in him yourself..."
"Yes—as soon as I get more comfortable at work—much more comfortable—I'll find a way to introduce you," Gretchen said with a smile. "I promise."
"Thanks!" Dana replied, beaming, then hastened to add, "But only because you don't want him for yourself."
No, Gretchen definitely didn't, which she'd like to attribute to the fact that she was older and wiser than she used to be—no longer vulnerable to the charms of flirtatious eye-candy, too career oriented and levelheaded to go for the well-built player type again. But if that were true, why was she so damn attracted to Brett's brother, Rick?
It was a frustrating conundrum. And on top of Rick's impressive physical stature (which always spelled trouble) and his quiet arrogance, the guy obviously had problems. Really, hadn't she learned anything from her past mistakes, the most recent of which being her failed relationship with Tristan the physical trainer? Why couldn't she simply like a nerdy guy?
Or better yet, she should push all romantic thoughts out of her mind, because for the time being, she couldn't afford to indulge them. How much more cautious could a girl be than to rule out men altogether?
She hadn't dated in high school—she'd been way too shy—and the relationships she'd had late in college and afterward never lasted; it seemed that Gretchen always got blown off after the second or third month of dating. Part of it, she realized, was the type of guy. No sticking power, all about the challenge. And with Gretchen showering him with affection and devotion, there was never much of a challenge. That, actually, was the second part of the problem: herself.
She was embarrassed to think about the way she had acted with the guys she'd liked, always jumping in too fast, letting her infatuation fallout all over the place, never playing the game, too busy making frosted brownies and sending cutesy e-cards—and basically scaring the guy off completely. Well, scaring might be too strong a word; more like she'd bored most of them off.
With Tristan there had been a physical attraction between them and a lot of laughs during those first few months. But beyond that, there was nothing real. Oh, how she had wanted there to be substance between them; how she'd wanted Tristan to be the one, but as time stretched on, the forced nature of their relationship became more and more evident. But just when Gretchen had been all revved up to end it, Tristan had gotten into a surfing accident, breaking one of his legs and both of his arms. Jeez, could the timing get any worse? Consumed by a fierce nurturing instinct she hadn't known she possessed, Gretchen had made it a point to take care of him. She would break up with him after he had fully recovered, she'd told herself.
But ultimately there had been no need to wait. A month into the nursemaid bit (which had been slowly driving her around the bend), she'd gotten a text message on her phone from Tristan—one that was not only filthy, but also clearly meant for someone else. That's when the truth began to unravel, leading to a tearstained confession on his part. The creep had been cheating on her for months!
Now she shook her head, willing away any more memories of her poor choices. Things would be different; she was through with her old pattern. No more arrogant men. From now on, it was meek little dorks or nothing. (Call her cynical but she had her money on nothing.)
Chapter 10
Two nights later Rick lit a cigarette and blew smoke out the open window of his truck as he careened up a hilly road toward the Catskills. Sharp, cold wind hit his face. In general, if there was anywhere he didn't expect to find himself it was at his brother's annual ski weekend/birthday bash, which would be full of TV people and other quasi-celebrities. But these were unusual circumstances. Brett hadn't gotten any more threats since that e-mail on Tuesday—so it had been three days with no threatening phone calls, no suspicious e-mails. Odds were better all the time that the whole thing had been a lame prank. At Brett's request, Rick had shadowed him for the rest of the week, but there had been no danger that either could detect. Now Rick's vacation from work was drawing to a close and he'd never made it up to Maine.
This weekend was out, too. Brett had begged him to come to his party. He swore it would be the last time, but he said he just didn't feel safe yet. He said he was about eighty percent sure that the threats had been harmless, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that someone from the network might have it in for him. If he could get through the party and the weekend with no problems, no threats, then he would dismiss it all.
Rick had agreed, figuring, as tedious as this night promised to be, it was better to be on the safe side. And Brett was obviously still scared. Inwardly, Rick was kind of shocked how much better Brett seemed to feel with him around. He acted like Rick was invincible—unless someone he knew came around them. Then he acted like Rick was a walking vegetable. Claimed it was so Rick would "blend in" and so no one would suspect his real purpose at the studio. Brett was such an egomaniac, though, Rick had to wonder...
But his fear seemed sincere, and that was what mattered. It was understandable; Brett had never dealt with anything like this. Rick supposed the level of his fame was just starting to sink in—for both of them. His brother's rise to stardom had been a quick one, and it was something based on personality and looks, not toughness or strength, so it made sense he'd been freaking out now. Despite his macho Brooklyn act for the camera, and despite his hardcore bodybuilding—or "sculpting" as he called it—he'd always been more of a pampered mama's boy. It was irritating on the one hand, but on the other, it made Rick even more protective of him.
They'd always had a rocky relationship, somewhat parallel to Rick's rocky relationship with his dad. God knew Rick had not been an easy kid. He hadn't been perfect growing up, always getting into trouble, drifting from one scrape to the next. Hell, when they were teenagers, the roles were as predictable as they were clear-cut. Rick was the family fuck-up and Brett was the golden boy. There were times when Rick had almost hated him. But Brett made it too hard to hate him. Their dad had made it easy, though. He'd always been so stern, so goddamn stubborn—and Rick had been unpredictable. That was a long time ago, too long to make amends now.
Now he turned off the main road, onto a long, winding side street, and took one last drag of his cigarette before he chucked it into the cup of old coffee that sat in his drink holder.
He'd been to Brett's house in the Catskills only twice. Now he
'd be there, not to enjoy the party like everyone else, but to size up Brett's coworkers and anyone else who might strike him as having some hostility toward Brett—or even quite the opposite. Often people who stalked and threatened others actually believed they were in love with their victims. So he'd keep an eye out for lovesick weirdoes, too, which would probably be the easiest part of the job. Nobody seemed to attract the lovesick like his brother.
He wondered if Gretchen would be there, too. Of course she would. If Brett had invited her, she'd be there, no doubt. She'd made that clear the other day. She'd seemed interested in getting to know Rick only after she'd found out about Brett. Then she'd been all smiles.
Luckily, Rick hadn't run into her again since that time in the food court. It was just as well. Considering that hot red dress... and that even hotter nightgown from the night they'd met... He had to wonder if she even possessed an outfit that wasn't designed to give him an erection.
Rick knew he wasn't a bad-looking guy, but he was hardly up there in Brett's pretty-boy league. Not that he had trouble meeting women, but still, Gretchen Darrow wasn't the first girl who'd tried to use him to get to his famous brother.
Sure, she worked for the same network as Brett, which was an "in," Rick supposed, but even at that, Gretchen was just one of the many girls at TCN who undoubtedly wanted to get close to him. She'd need some kind of edge and she knew it. Well, she could count Rick out. The sexy little opportunist would have to find some other way to get what she wanted.
* * *
Back in the city, Gretchen was preparing for the weekend, too, throwing a few wool sweaters into a suitcase.
"I'm so glad you decided to go after all," Dana said, sitting on Gretchen's bed, eyeing her open suitcase speculatively.
"I didn't decide. Susanna's making me. She said she needs me there. She begged me."
"Sounds kinda pathetic."
"It was." Gretchen had to admit, she liked her new boss, but she seemed a bit dependent on her after only one week. But then, she was starting to think that Susanna was a dichotomy of self-assuredness and vulnerability, ego and insecurity. Maybe she sensed someone she could relax around, someone she could trust, in Gretchen. Or maybe she was just bizarre.