Straight from the Hart

by Tracie Banister

  “It doesn’t seem that long ago to me,” Alex comments.

  “Long enough for us both to have moved on—Alex to a string of short-term romances with women whose names he probably can’t remember, and me to a loving and committed relationship with a wonderful man.” That’s right. I did it. I brought up my fake boyfriend. No point in having one if you’re not going to use the guy to show your ex how well you’re doing without him.

  “What man?” Alex looks none too pleased by this revelation, which totally justifies me telling such a big, fat lie.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but a quick Google search will tell you.” I pretend to examine my nails, which are currently painted a pretty shade of pink called “Rose Café,” while Alex taps some letters on his phone’s keyboard and Jax hangs over his shoulder.

  “Day-um!” Jax exclaims and based on that and the glower Alex is now directing at his phone, I know they’ve found a picture of Ian. I really hope it’s one where the two of us look deliriously happy or Ian’s kissing me.

  “That dude is ridiculously good-looking,” Jax states the obvious. “If he were a little younger and we were going up for the same roles, I think I might be in trouble. He’s got to be an actor or model, right?” he asks me.

  “He runs some fancy auction house with offices all over the world that’s owned by his family,” Alex answers the question because he’s apparently found Ian’s online bio.

  “Handsome, powerful, and rich? Way to go, Red!” Jax offers me a high five for snagging such a catch, and I smack my palm against his with a chortle.

  “Thanks. I’m very lucky.”

  “So’s he,” Alex mutters, still staring daggers at his phone, which dings with yet another text. He reads it and sighs before announcing in a grim voice, “I’ve got to make a call.”

  “Go for it,” Jax excuses him.

  “Byeeee!” I say the word in an obnoxiously perky tone, turning it into two syllables, and give Alex a little wave as he stands to leave. Funny how my mood has improved greatly in direct correlation to Alex’s souring.

  With a shake of his head, he walks off and I force myself to keep my eyes trained on Jax so that I don’t get mesmerized by the way Alex’s blue suit jacket hugs his broad shoulders or ends right above the curve of a butt that’s well-muscled from all his years of kicking soccer balls.

  Lifting my pen in preparation for writing, I say, “Let’s go back to the beginning of your relationship with Jaz. Tell me everything about how you met and what those first few months were like.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “I really appreciate you letting me use your theater to host a movie night for my staff. With five of us, it would have been close quarters in my living room, plus I think we’ll all enjoy the movie more on a big screen.”

  “Ma maison est ta maison, chérie,” Viv says airily as she ushers me into her home theater, which beats the heck out of any multiplex.

  There are four rows of stacked seating in the form of plush, amethyst-colored couches flanked by a pair of pewter armchairs on each side. Soft lighting comes from the ornate chandelier overhead and the crystal wall sconces situated between the suede acoustic wall panels that are in place to eliminate reverb. The back wall of the theater is covered in artfully lit movie posters, all Viv’s in case you were wondering. I’m not sure if she chose the five she did because they were her favorite roles or she just liked how prominently she was featured on those posters.

  I’ve always been partial to Tell It Like It Is, an effervescent romance Viv did with Robert Redford in the mid-sixties when they were both young and impossibly beautiful. On the poster, he’s outfitted in a doctor’s white coat with his blond hair sexily disheveled, his tie loosened, and his face covered in pink kiss marks while Viv, who’s rocking a heavily-teased bob and a comically loud, but period-appropriate, floral mini-dress and go-go boots, listens to his heart with a stethoscope and gives the camera a wide-eyed look with her lipstick-smeared mouth forming a surprised “O.” There’s so much color, energy, and chemistry in the poster; you know the minute you lay eyes on it that you’re in for a fun ride with the movie.

  Beneath the poster-lined wall is a table where I see Viv’s sous chef, Yvonne, and my beloved Ramona setting out snacks and drinks. Depositing my purse and the plastic bag in my hand on the nearest couch, I climb the stairs, saying, “Thank you for doing this, ladies. I hope you haven’t gone to too much troub— Woah!” I stop short when I get a load of all the edible goodies up for grabs and how beautifully the table is arranged with crystal wine goblets, china plates, and Viv’s best silverware. There are even two fake Oscar statues holding bouquets of white roses above their heads positioned in the far corners of the table.

  Yvonne pivots to face me, beaming with pride. “Chef had the night off, so Ms. Hart asked me to prepare a variety of finger foods. I made roasted spiced chickpeas, tomato rosemary puff pastry cheese straws, churro bites, apple chips with a maple vanilla yogurt dip, jalapeno popper meatballs, sesame peanut bars, chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies, and caramel swirl brownies. Oh, and as soon as your guests arrive, I’ll start the popcorn so that it will be fresh and warm. I was going to toss it in a chili lime seasoning if that’s okay with you. If not—”

  “That’s perfect,” I assure her. “Everything looks and smells incredible. I’m stunned you were able to put out a spread like this in such a short amount of time. I wasn’t expecting anything more than some microwave popcorn and a couple bowls of chips and Chex mix.” I only texted Viv to ask if I could use her theater an hour ago!

  “Chex mix?” My grandmother sniffs with disdain. “Not on my watch. Now I wasn’t sure what to pair with snack foods of this nature, so I had Ramona bring up an assortment of whites and reds from the wine cellar. You can never go wrong with a good California Syrah, and the Sauvignon Blanc is dry and crisp if your guests want something to play against the sweetness of the desserts.”

  “It’s very generous of you to share some of your stock with us.” The bottles in my grandmother’s cellar do not come cheaply. She has the wine shipped in from vineyards all over the world and spends several hundred dollars on each bottle.

  “Ummmmm . . .” I quickly scan the bottles, which have been uncorked so that they can breathe. “I don’t see a rosé, and that’s Cole’s favorite. He always says, ‘Rosé all day; it’s also right at night.’”

  Viv grimaces. “I really don’t understand your generation’s fascination with that pink pretender, but I’m sure I have a bottle or two in the cellar. Ramona, if you would.”

  The housekeeper doesn’t have to be asked twice. She immediately takes off, her short legs carrying her much faster than you’d think they would.

  “Oh, I forgot cocktail napkins, or would you rather the guests use coasters?” Yvonne asks my grandmother.

  “Cocktail napkins will just get soggy. Definitely coasters, the gray marble. They should be in that credenza in the dining room.”

  Yvonne leaves and I grab a churro bite, popping it in my mouth while I move things around on the table. Not that Viv’s staff didn’t do a good job, it’s just that I think it makes more sense if the savory items are on one side of the table and the sweet things are on the other and they didn’t leave any room for the popcorn, which should be the featured snack for a movie night. I stab a meatball with a toothpick and nosh on it while I try and figure out what order the wines should be in.

  First, I line up the whites and do a row of reds behind them, but then I decide to alphabetize the wines as that will make it easier for folks to zero in on their favorites. Or wait, maybe they should be arranged by their area of origin: California, France, Italy, where’s Riesling from? The name sounds German, but I didn’t know wine came from that country. I pick up the bottle to take a closer look at its label and accidentally knock over one of the goblets, breaking its stem.

  “Enough,” Viv says, taking the Riesling away from me. “Obsessive micromanaging and shoving food down your gullet a
re not productive ways to handle stress.”

  “Moo found mike Wom.” The accusation is barely intelligible because of the brownie I just stuffed in my mouth.

  “Victoria isn’t the only observant member of this family, and having been around you more than she has, I daresay I’m more of an expert on your behavior. When you feel overwhelmed, you get manic about controlling everything around you: you make lists, or clean the crumbs out of every drawer in your kitchen, or rearrange your closet and throw out any item of clothing you haven’t worn in a year.”

  I swallow the brownie and say, “I don’t throw clothes away; I donate them. And there’s nothing wrong with trying to make order out of chaos.” Still feeling the urge to munch on something, I reach for a cheese straw with my left hand and a cookie with my right.

  “Stop eating your feelings,” Viv orders, smacking my cheese straw hand and making me drop the puff pastry back down on the plate. I’m already chomping down on the cookie, so she can’t do anything about that. “And tell me what’s going on.”

  Where to begin?

  “Okay, let’s see . . . for starters, I discovered that my former protégée has started a competing business and is doing her best to steal all my clients.”

  Viv lifts a penciled on eyebrow. “Quinn?”

  I nod.

  “I never liked that girl. There was always something disingenuous about her. It tracks that she’s All About Eve-ing you.”

  Most people my age would have no idea what my grandmother’s talking about, but I was raised on a steady diet of classic films, so I’m well aware of the Bette Davis movie in which she played a Broadway star who got stabbed in the back by the seemingly nice young woman she’d taken under her wing.

  “Pretty much, and she’s funding her new company with money given to her by her rich boyfriend, a onetime client of mine who left his wife and baby to be with her!” I shove the rest of the cookie between my lips.

  “And you feel guilty about that?”

  “Horribly!” I admit, a few crumbs spilling out of my mouth and onto the floor. “I’m supposed to be a supporter of love, not have a hand in destroying it. I reached out to the wife to offer my apologies and Jacqueline’s matchmaking services and she gladly accepted, but I won’t have peace of mind until I know she isn’t alone and miserable.

  “Meanwhile, I’ve got to contend with Quinn and bend over backwards to keep my current clients happy so that they don’t desert me for her, which means tons of extra work. And in a bizarre twist of fate, guess who walks in off the street today to hand me a dream client and the chance to launch my business into the stratosphere?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m on the proverbial edge of my seat.” Viv snags a brownie, breaking off a chocolatey piece and putting it in her mouth.

  “Alex!” I seize the cheese straw she denied me earlier.

  Viv gasps. “The Alex? As in your ex? I thought you verbally flayed him the last time you saw each other.”

  Yes, she knows all about the Vegas proposal debacle since I had to unburden myself to someone who would understand how shocking and upsetting the whole thing was for me.

  “Two times if you want to count our meeting this morning. It would appear he enjoys the abuse or maybe he feels like he owes me. Either way, he wanted to hire Straight from the Hart to help an A-list client of his with a problem of a sensitive nature.”

  “There’s no need to be coy, dear. I can connect the dots. The movie you’re screening for your staff tonight is Time and Time Again, which stars ‘It Couple’ Jax and Jaz. Everyone knows about the cheating scandal involving him and that English tart, so it’s obvious he’s your client, and you’ve been hired to help him win back his wife.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” I say the most commonly uttered phrase by everyone in Alex’s field. Leaning into Viv, I whisper, “It’s crucial to the success of this assignment that my association with this client be kept quiet, so please don’t share with anyone else.”

  “I will be the soul of discretion,” she promises, then adds, “under one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  With a dreamy expression, she says, “Tell me if Jax Reid is as sexy in real life as he is on-screen. He has the face of an angel and the body of a rock star, which is the most delicious combination.”

  “He’s young enough to be your grandson,” I chide.

  “Pish posh.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Despite my age, which isn’t nearly as decrepit as you think, my eyes work just fine and that means I can still admire a stunning male specimen when I see one. So?”

  I shrug. “He’s handsome and charming, I suppose, but not really my type.”

  “Perhaps he paled in comparison to the other man in the room at the time?” she posits.

  “No comment.” I take a bite of the cheese straw that’s flaking off in my hand.

  “Mmmm hmmm,” Viv murmurs knowingly.

  “I’ll admit it’s disconcerting to be around Alex, but not because I want to jump his bones.” Thank God I’m not hooked up to a polygraph right now! “Because his presence stirs up some very strong feelings, both good and bad. He and I have a lot of history.”

  “That’s why I never stay in touch with my exes. It’s too complicated, and who needs that? Better to cut and run.”

  “Agreed, and I would have been very happy never to have set eyes on Alex again, but the universe had other plans and I couldn’t very well say no to this golden opportunity when he presented it to me, not when I’ve got Quinn gunning for Straight from the Hart.”

  “And will you have to work closely with Alex to get Jax and Jaz back together?”

  I grimace. “I don’t know, probably, which is angst-inducing, but I have to find a way to deal with him in a detached, professional manner. My business may depend on it.”

  “Is this where the Convention of Gorgeous Redheads is taking place this year? Please tell me Michael Fassbender is going to be the keynote speaker.”

  Hearing Cole’s voice, I turn to see him ascending the stairs with a big grin on his face, which is how he always greets my grandmother. They formed a mutual admiration society the first time they met, and it’s been going strong ever since.

  “Michael Fassbender? What does he have that I don’t?” Viv queries with a mock pout.

  “A huge penis,” Cole retorts with a cheeky wink.

  “There’s no denying the appeal of that,” Viv concedes with a chuckle, holding her arms out for a hug.

  My assistant readily obliges her. When he pulls back, he proclaims, “I am loving this sunset hair color on you! It’s so striking and stylish. Makes you look the same age as Vanessa. No, younger!”

  Yikes, I need to start getting more sleep!

  “Aren’t you sweet?” Viv blushes with pleasure at the compliment and preens, fluffing up her hair. “I’ve been getting tons of compliments on it.”

  A phone buzzes with an incoming text and I glance over at my purse while Viv and Cole pull their devices out of their pockets.

  My grandmother taps her phone and smiles because she’s the popular one who received a message. She quickly types something back, then announces, “I must be off, children. Enjoy yourselves!”

  “Wait, what?” I frown at her. “You’re not staying for the movie?”

  “I’m afraid not. I have a rendezvous with a certain master carpenter whose largest tool isn’t kept in a box.” She winks at me, and I have to stifle a groan.

  I love Viv, but it’s times like these I wish I had a sweet, gray-haired grandma who baked Toll House cookies and pinched my cheeks instead of one who has a sex life more active than mine and never shuts up about it!

  “Get it, girl!” Cole encourages her.

  “You know I will. Lovely to see you as always, dear.” She kisses Cole on the cheek, leaving behind a wine-colored lip print. “Vanessa, remember to breathe. In the end, everything will turn out exactly as it should. Meanwhile, if you need a closet to clean out, the one in
the guest bedroom next to mine still has clothing from the ‘80s in it. You could have a field day with all of those big-shouldered power suits, over-embellished gowns, and coats made of real fur. Au revoir, mes petits choux!” She gives us a finger wave before swanning off.

  As we watch her go, Cole says, “I am so going to dress up as Viv for Halloween this year. She really is too fabulous for words.”

  On the way out of the theater, Viv passes Ramona who’s finally returned with the wine she must have had a hard time finding.

  “Is that rosé?” Cole perks up when he sees the gold-topped bottle of pale pink wine Ramona is bringing to the table. “Gimme!” He eagerly snatches the bottle out of her hands and hugs it to his chest.

  “Would the two of you like to be alone?” I tease.

  “No, it’s okay. We can make it a threesome. Where’s the corkscrew?” His eyes flit across the table, looking for the implement.

  Wordlessly, Ramona extracts a corkscrew from her apron pocket and offers it to him.

  “You are a peach!” Cole exclaims, taking possession of the corkscrew and making fast work of opening the rosé. I half-expect him to slug the wine straight from the bottle, but he pours two glasses and offers me one.

  “Can I help with anything else?” Ramona asks after picking up the pieces of the goblet I broke earlier.

  “I think we’re good in here. If you could just keep an ear out for the doorbell, I’ve got three more people coming.”

  With a nod, Ramona departs while Cole confides in between sips of his wine, “I was let into the palace by a very dishy houseboy. I thought I was hallucinating for a minute because he looked like he could be Brad Pitt’s even hotter son.”

  “That would be Matthew. I met him at brunch last week.”

  “I don’t suppose he’s gay, or at least bi-curious?” Cole queries hopefully.

  “Sorry, but Matthew is all about the ladies. He’s crushing on one girl who works here, and according to the ever-observant Dr. Hart, sleeping with her sister.”