by Mel Curtis
Hollywood was a brutal, dog-screwing-dog competition. Her proof? Last year Maddy’s creative partner had screwed her, shit on her ego, and then ran off with one of her ideas.
Yes, Maddy was naïve. And now she was paying for it. She’d promised her parents if she didn’t make it this year she’d return to Sherman Oaks and help with the family dry cleaning business so they could semi-retire. The idea made her feet leaden and her shoulders slouch. What Maddy needed was a kick-ass idea for a TV show, reality show or documentary. What she had was bupkiss.
Ignoring the women’s snarky laughter, Maddy tucked her tray under her arm and unfurled her brightest you’re-my-favorite-table smile. “Another round, ladies? Or would you like the check?”
“Another round of cosmos. On me.” The shortest toothpick, Kaya Anika, stabbed Maddy with a killer gaze, made more intense by heavy eye-liner and short, spiky crimson hair that would make the devil nervous.
Flight adrenaline pumped into Maddy’s bloodstream, making it hard to nod at the woman who’d bought every round so far.
Jenny Quick, who was famously rich and famous for her celebrity romances, tilted sloppily toward Kaya. “I can’t wait to see Blue’s face when he gets a look at his car.”
Blue? As in Blue Rule? Whose sister’s wedding reception was still rocking the Sunset Ballroom on the other side of the hotel?
Curiosity, feather light and ticklish, worked its way down Maddy’s spine. She paused before heading back to the bar.
“Those geese were awful. One spit on me.” Jenny wiped at an unseen spot on her black micro-mini with a napkin.
“Geese don’t spit.” Portia Francis, former child television star, now struggling movie starlet, corrected Jenny. She was a cool-as-ice blonde with a 1940s up-do and the complexion of a movie vampire.
“Shut. Up.” Anika, the scary leader of the anorexic pack, glared at Maddy as if she’d just heard secrets threatening national security.
Maddy tucked her order pad into her apron and retreated to the bar, her mind clicking like an old computer on reboot.
In his column, Lyle Lincoln kept writing about a group of women called the Playboy Avengers, who’d launched a website dedicated to making their ex-boyfriend suffer. These women had toasted the Avengers. They’d mentioned someone named Blue. The pieces fit too easily not to be true.
Were they going to confront Blue here? Or had they already done something…with geese? To his car?
What Maddy wouldn’t give to capture the drama on film as it unfolded. It had everything audiences wanted – revenge, backstabbing, a scary ring leader, to-die-for plastic bodies, celebrities, and high fashion.
Her other customers kept her busy, but she kept her eye on the toothpick group. The camera would love them even if she, personally, did not. Every woman was beautiful in her own way, her face worthy of an extreme close up.
Kaya targeted Maddy with a serial killer glare. She said something to her friends and then laughed. As if cued, the rest of the women chorused their amusement.
If these were the Avengers and Blue Rule their playboy, he was in deep doo-doo.
After Amber Rule took over and conquered Hollywood by improving the basketball game of Evan Oliver and winning his heart, the Dooley Foundation had become the flavor of the month, celebrity life coaching business. Reality show producers were probably beating down Amber’s door pitching her ideas. But Maddy had a feeling the big idea was the Playboy Avengers and their revenge on Blue.
She probably couldn’t pitch a show where Blue received his revenge from each woman he’d dumped. Besides, she’d pity him being picked on by Kaya. That woman was a ruthless competitor who refused to lose.
The female Avengers were sexy and powerful. And they knew it. They gave new meaning to the word Maneater.
If anyone could use life coaching from the Dooley Foundation, it was these women.
And that’s when Maddy got a kick-ass idea.
Chapter 2
Playboy Avengers Website
“About Us” Page
We’re the ex-girlfriends of one very special Hollywood man, the busiest Tinsel Town playboy you’ve never heard of…yet. One-by-one, he wined and dined us as if we were his Goddesses. One-by-one, he slid between our sheets. One-by-one, he dumped us without explanation.
We’ve cried. We’ve asked ourselves why. We’ve hugged our “sisters” as they joined our sisterhood. And now, we’re here to teach this man that women aren’t disposable playthings.
Someday soon you’ll know his name.
“Go find yourself another corner, Blue. This one’s taken.”
Blue ignored Evan Oliver, set Mr. Jiggles down and claimed the empty lounge chair next to his new brother-in-law in the darkened corner of the veranda behind a screen of leafy potted plants. Inside, the chorus to It’s Raining Men was playing to the enthusiastic cries of female reception attendees.
Usually Blue enjoyed watching women cut loose and used it as a way to cut one from the crowd. But the Avengers had driven him to ground. Two months ago, he’d stopped going to nightclubs. He hadn’t dated anyone in weeks. And sex? He hadn’t been celibate this long since he was a freshman in high school.
“Just like your sister.” Evan sighed, stretching his long legs out further. “Never listens.”
“Family trait.” He and Evan had a grudging respect for each other, but were still in the turf war phase, trying to figure out if they’d be friends or polite in-laws for Amber’s sake. “Why aren’t you out there mingling with your guests?”
“Mingle with who? Most of our guests seem to be potential clients of yours.”
Blue forced out a laugh. “Amber is becoming more like Dad every day. He threw me a birthday party once and the only guests were his clients.” His father had also invited the paparazzi. Dooley could milk a story out of an ingrown toe-nail. And the paparazzi could make any event a moneymaker. Blue’s picture had been everywhere for months afterward. The boys in sixth grade hadn’t let him live that down.
“Amber tells me you’re still having problems at work.” Evan sipped from his tumbler. “I know it takes time for teams to gel, but I don’t want any midnight calls on my honeymoon with a problem only Amber can solve.”
Blue gripped his glass. He’d been good at P.R. Hell, he’d been good at anything he’d tried over the years. But working at his father’s company was different. Embracing what the Foundation stood for meant doing a U-turn with his feelings toward his dad and his self-help legacy. “I can handle the business side while she’s gone.”
“Just like your sister,” Evan said again, chuckling. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, do you?”
“I know what I’m doing.” Blue’s lips stiffened with anger. What did Evan know about Blue’s skills? His father built the Dooley Foundation on the Rules of Attraction – Choose, Voice, Trust, Welcome.
Okay, so maybe Blue didn’t live by those words, and he wasn’t really sure how you were supposed to apply them. Reading his father’s books – or trying to recently – hadn’t helped. Watching his father’s DVDs – a few minutes of one – hadn’t helped. But he had a background in public relations, which was all about bluffing.
Amber no longer needed to bluff. She’d figured out their father’s secrets. But all Amber would say was that the terms of the will barred her from telling him exactly how the Rules of Attraction worked. His father had apparently left clues, like some bogus scavenger hunt.
Evan’s laughter taunted Blue back to the present. “You’re used to controlling the spotlight. Dude, it’s different when you step inside. Things get out of control.”
Blue rubbed his pounding temples. “Stepping out isn’t an option.” Not when there was three million dollars a year at stake and Amber had proven the terms of their father’s will were surmountable.
“My advice to you – brother – is to tread carefully. This town has a way of destroying people who aren’t strong enough to take the abuse the spotlight brings.”
; Blue’s hollow laughter reverberated in his chest as if he was an empty garbage can. He’d already taken abuse just by being on the edge of Amber’s spotlight. And the Avengers threatened to shine a very bright light on him. “Did you know my father?”
Evan shook his head. “Only from the videos I’ve watched with Amber.”
“He was a media whore. He once wore a grass skirt and a coconut bra to a talk show interview to promote living a life that felt more like a vacation. Try going through junior high with a dad like that.”
Blue’s opinion of his brother-in-law ratcheted up a notch when he didn’t laugh. They sat in companionable silence for awhile.
“We all have our defenses, Blue, whether others recognize them or not.”
“Are you saying he dressed like a hula dancer to protect his fragile ego? To throw people off the scent of his true mission in life?” As if his dad had a mission in life other than to torture his children. “Did Amber tell you that?”
“Dude, I was offering a perspective.” Evan finished his drink and stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see my wife on the patio. I’m going to get my honeymoon started – without announcements or Amber’s long line of well-wishers.”
Blue stayed in the corner, enjoying his anonymity and sipping his drink, trying to reconcile what Evan suggested about his father with Blue’s experience. And failing.
Footloose blasted out the open doors. The D.J. was spinning all the classics.
“There you are.” Cora, his younger sister, claimed the chair vacated by Evan, looking elegantly bored in her celery-colored bridesmaid’s gown. Her long brown hair was in a sophisticated pile of stiff curls. She checked her cell. “I’m calling this wedding done. The bride and groom snuck away to the honeymoon suite. The D.J.’s going to announce they left the reception at the end of this song.”
The sidecar’s double shot of cognac had mellowed Blue to the point where he needed more time before he climbed behind the wheel. He set his glass aside. “What do you think of Kaya Anika?”
Mr. Jiggles trotted out from under his chair to sniff Cora’s high heels.
“My Jimmy Choos are off limits, mongrel.” Cora lifted Mr. J into her lap. She and the dog had formed an odd truce since he’d destroyed one of her shoes months ago. In fact, since Evan had proposed to Amber, Cora had mellowed considerably, although she still had hard edges. “Kaya has a worse reputation than I do. Big bitch. Small package.”
Blue made the obligatory denials in Cora’s defense.
“Shut up. Being a bitch doesn’t bother me.” She scratched Mr. Jiggles behind the ears, and sighed like people do when they wish they’d been dealt a different hand of cards.
His younger sister was, and always would be, a high maintenance princess. But she’d come a long way from the woman who’d been painfully jealous of Amber’s relationship with their father. Blue attributed it to Amber’s attempts to mend fences she’d had no part in knocking down. “You want to golf tomorrow morning?”
“What is that? A pity offer?” She handed the pink poodle back to Blue, and stood, smoothing her skirt.
“Quit with the drama. Just say yes.”
“Okay, but not in the morning. If I don’t get at least eight hours sleep, I’m going to be a bitch beast.”
Blue shook his head. “Can’t. Amber scheduled a late lunch for me with a client. And I scheduled a dinner with a client.” On a Sunday. It would be nice to work regular hours. Not that Hollywood kept regular hours.
Cora’s delicate features hardened like fine china about to crack.
“Cora,” Blue cautioned. She was twenty-five, but sometimes she acted like she was sixteen. She made his twenty-six years feel ancient.
Instead of giving him drama, she pursed her lips and checked her phone, which was progress.
Except, a late night phone addiction could only mean one thing – she was looking to hook-up. The big brother gene, dormant for many years, resurfaced. “Who is he?”
She frowned at her phone. “No one you need worry about. He’s a no show.”
“He’s serious about you, right? If he’s not – ”
“Give me a break. Like I’m serious about any guy.”
True that.
Cora was more the use-‘em-and-lose-‘em type. But that didn’t mean Blue approved. “Shit, Cora. Don’t use Dad’s sex life as an example for your own.”
“I wasn’t.” Her smile was smoothly superior. “I was using yours.”
“I do not make one night stands a habit!”
Mr. Jiggles woofed. The little emperor didn’t like loud voices. Blue stroked the soft pink hair behind his ears.
Cora waggled her phone at him. “There are guys out there like you – bitch addicts – that aren’t interested in any kind of relationship beyond sex. I don’t have to apologize to them for being controlling or sarcastic or greedy in bed.”
He covered his ears. “Don’t tell me about your sex life! Get a serious boyfriend.”
Cora chuckled, leaning down to remove his hands from his ears. “I’ll make you a deal. When you get a serious girlfriend, I’ll make an effort to be exclusive.” And with Cora, that was the best offer he was going to get.
“Fine. We need to stick together. We have nine months left to earn millions.” Blue pried himself out of the chair and gave Cora a hug, careful not to squish Mr. J, who growled between them. “I’ll pick you up at eight for golf. My treat.”
“Okay.” With one last check of her cell phone, Cora disappeared into the thinning crowd.
After a few more minutes, Blue headed for the bright, golden lobby.
Mr. Jiggles sniffed around the portico while they waited for the valet to bring Blue’s car around.
“Sir?” The valet returned, standing there with Blue’s keys instead of his car, looking as if he didn’t know what to do.
Blue’s heart came to a screeching stop. The Avengers. He’d driven his 1965 Aston Martin. He rarely took it out, but he’d wanted to drive Amber in style since she’d chosen him to walk her down the aisle.
God damn it. Kaya knew how much he loved that car.
Blue’s heart came roaring back to life in fourth gear. “That car is a classic. If something happened to it…”
The valet was shaking his head. “It’s still here. It’s just there’s – ”
“It’s been vandalized.” The urge to punch something had Blue clenching his fists for the second time that evening.
“No.” The valet straightened his vest, seeming to draw courage from adjusting his appearance. “It’s just…You’re not allowed to leave pets in the car, sir.”
Blue pointed at Mr. Jiggles, who’d come to sit at his feet, his head cocked as if trying to interpret what the valet was saying. “This is my only pet.” Small, pink, yet incredibly hard to ignore. Trust his dad not to have a normal dog.
As if to prove his point, Mr. Jiggles gave a short, high pitched, girlie bark.
The valet frowned. “So you didn’t leave geese in your car?”
Blue drew a deep breath, his experience in public relations crisis management kicking in. He could call security, but the more people who knew he’d been pranked, the more likely this would leak to Lyle Lincoln or TMZ. It would be best to tip the valet obscenely well, rescue his car, and leave as quietly as was possible given there were live animals involved. What Blue needed was a reason the geese were in his car. “It’s probably just some wedding prank. I drove the bride here and someone obviously had too much to drink, and followed through on a bad idea. No worries.”
The kid’s Lame Alarm should have been going off. Instead, the valet nodded and looked relieved.
“Why don’t you just tell me where my car’s parked? I’ll get the geese out.” Blue scooped up Mr. Jiggles and reclaimed his keys. The situation sucked, but he had to find something to be grateful for. Mr. Jiggles uncharacteristically licked his cheek, as if dying his hair had changed his attitude.
Happy pink. Positive pink. Everything will be all right
pink.
Blue didn’t say anything to the valet on the walk to the car. Blue didn’t say anything when he saw three geese five times the size of Mr. J hopping about the inside his car. He didn’t even say anything as he unlocked the driver’s side door and the geese leapt and stumbled and fluttered free.
“Holy shit.” The valet backed quickly out of the way.
“I’ll take it from here.” Blue handed him a hundred dollar bill, turned to his first true love and swallowed a lemon-sized lump in his throat.
Big clumps of geese poop dotted the seats. Snaky slobber trails striped his windows. The soft leather was ruined. The carpets most likely soiled beyond redemption. His rear view sported a pink thong.
Blue clung tenuously to his temper so he wouldn’t drive like a rocket-locked-on-target to Kaya’s apartment and wring her skinny neck. There had to be a better way to solve this. Nothing as satisfying as murder came to mind, but murderers didn’t get the chance to drive classic cars, even with refurbished leather.
He turned Mr. Jiggles’ car blanket inside out and started wiping.
The car smelled like stagnant lake water and the steering wheel was sticky. But Blue wouldn’t let himself dwell on the negative.
Tomorrow he’d figure out a way to make Kaya heel. Enough was enough. He was getting his life back.
“Could have been worse,” he told Mr. Jiggles as he deposited him in the passenger seat. “Kaya could’ve handcuffed Winnie in the car.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Maddy’s roommate, Vera, said as they drank coffee on their narrow, fourth story balcony the next morning.
“The Playboy Avengers have all dated Blue Rule. I’m sure of it. Just look at these pictures I found on Kaya Anika’s Facebook page.” Maddy angled her laptop so Vera could see. There was the unnerving, spiky-haired woman riding piggyback on a less than happy looking Blue. “And Portia Francis’ Facebook page.” There was a picture of Blue standing behind Portia on the red carpet looking gorgeous and bored.