“Have you ever been to Buenos Aires?” I asked Todd, attempting to divert him from staring out the window at the flashing lights and chaos.
He turned to me but didn’t answer.
“Because,” I continued, feeling a twinge of nerves, “the crowds there are the absolute worst. It’s like every single citizen is a pop music fanatic. Insane. We always have to hire extra security.”
“Huh,” Todd replied distractedly.
“Have you been there?” I asked again.
He nodded once.
“When?”
“Several years back.” He was looking down, winding a cufflink.
“Vacation?”
He shook his head, one corner of his mouth pulling back. It wasn’t like Todd to be purposefully evasive. He had me fascinated.
“What was the occasion?”
He took a quick glance at the driver in the front seat of the limo and then back at me. “Work,” he said with a slow blink.
Hmm, I thought as I watched him watching me. If it had been several years ago, his work wouldn’t have been his surf shop. “So the New York firm you worked for sent you to Argentina? Why?”
“It was before grad school, Abby.”
“Before that?” I said, thinking aloud. “But weren’t you still in the Marines? What work were you—”
“I was sent to Buenos Aires to follow a terrorist back to Iraq and then shoot him through the heart at thirteen hundred feet.”
I gaped.
Todd smiled. “And now,” he said as my car door was being pulled open, “a little Hollywood pressure seems like nothing.” He brushed his lapel. “I think we’re on.”
“Abigail! Abigail!” The crowd roared when Todd and I stepped out of the black stretch limo and onto the scarlet runner.
“Couldn’t we just make out in the car all night instead?” I whispered to him. “I’ll let you get to third base. Twice.”
He chuckled and grabbed my hand. “After”
First we had to slowly pass by the seemingly never-ending wall of cameras. We smiled and waved, then Todd stepped back while I made a few thousand or so requested turns as cameras flashed. By the time we reached the first interview stop, I could tell where all eyes were focused. And they were not on me. Designer-ensconced women were a dime a dozen in this town. Elegant, sophisticated, debonair gentlemen, however—who made a tuxedo look like second skin—were a rare breed. Cary Grant, George Clooney, Todd Camford.
Standing next to Todd, I was secondary, which I graciously welcomed.
“Who are you wearing?” was our first question.
Shocker.
I offered up the necessary information, but I doubt anyone was listening.
“You must be the Todd Camford the whole entertainment world is buzzing about.” She gleamed a toothy smile, shoving the mike under Todd’s nose. Her imitation Chanel Number Five was gagging me.
“Yes, this is Todd,” I answered for him, but she didn’t even look my way.
“Your first time at this three-ring circus?” she asked him, nearly bubbling over with gusto.
“Yes, it is,” Todd said with a modest, dignified air. The enchanting smile he gave her managed to make even my heart flutter.
The woman actually giggled. “That’s a sharp-looking monkey suit,” observed our friendly press hyena once she regained composure. “Who are you wearing?”
“An-gel-lee-no,” Todd pronounced down into the mike, carefully articulating every syllable. I felt his open hand on the small of my back, delicate, overly cautious, and careful not to snag my dress. “He’s that very prolific, esoteric Greek designer,” Todd further explained.
“Ah, yes.” Our interviewer beamed, somehow showing at least fifty front teeth. “Love him. He’s absolutely fabulous. Love his fall line.”
Almost like we’d planned it, Todd and I both tilted our heads and smiled at her, charmingly, artificially. Todd’s fingers pressed into my back as tooth lady returned our simpering smiles. She was completely oblivious to the fact that Todd had invented said “prolific, esoteric Greek designer” on the fly.
“Nicely done,” I whispered as Molly dragged us to the next interview station.
“You were right,” he whispered back. “This is painfully brainless.”
“Just keep smiling,” I sing-songed through my teeth as we approached the interviewer.
“Mwah! Mwah!” Et cetera, et cetera.
We were offered the same compliments, asked the same questions, and Todd had a different answer for the origin of his tuxedo every time. By the end of our carpet walk, he had the makings of a bruise on his bicep from my pinching him to keep myself from laughing. That evening, while hanging off Todd’s right arm, was the first occasion when I really did feel like we belonged in the spotlight. We totally killed that carpet.
Hal, Jord, and Yosh joined Todd and me at the last stop. The clicking of cameras sounded like hummingbirds as the five of us, arms around one another, posed for final pictures before we ducked into the venue.
The balance of the evening went pretty much as expected: unearned awards, lengthy speeches thanking everyone from Allah to “my dog who ran away when I was five,” and the occasional drunken and inappropriate political protest. Lovely.
We sat three rows back, just left of center. It seemed like the television cameras swung to catch our reactions more times than necessary. I blamed the chiseled, Hollywood-like features of my dashing date for that.
The band and I were due backstage to prepare for our award presentation after the act currently onstage was finished performing. The house lights were low, only a lone spotlight shining on center stage.
“My time soon,” I whispered into Todd’s ear. “I have to sneak out while the lights are down.”
“I know,” he replied, watching the singer onstage.
“You did really well tonight,” I said then waited with anticipation as his handsome profile slowly turned to me.
“You, too,” he said, lifting one eyebrow. “And you didn’t trip once.”
I groaned. “The night is still young.”
A bright rainbow of colored lights illuminated the stage as a thin curtain peeled back. A full orchestra was dramatically revealed behind the solo performer. The music swelled, filling the concert hall with raw, electric energy. Todd’s eyes moved back to the stage, engulfed in the moment. I was happy he was enjoying himself. I’d worried he would be bored.
Too soon, it was time for me to go. The house lights were dimmed and I made my move to slink past the two road blocks that were Todd’s legs and out into the side aisle. As I took my first step, I fell across his lap. “Fire in the hole, Lieutenant,” I hissed. “My shoe came off.” He held me by the waist, and I bent in half. “I can’t, ugh, reach . . . it.”
While trying to ignore the snickering coming from the row behind us, I twisted and turned, bum un-elegantly in the air, trying to find my blasted heel. I could feel Todd shaking, attempting to control his laughter. Not helpful. “Oh, Abby,” he snickered, “I like you.”
“Shyeah,” I mumbled, deadpan, as I slithered clear of his seat, one four-inch slingback in my hand. I grabbed Todd’s shoulder as I slid on the shoe.
His sudden tight grip on my wrist startled me. He was holding me at his side, unyieldingly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning down.
But he didn’t speak; only a tiny smile sat on his lips. His fingers stroked my palm.
I tilted my head, wondering what was going on. Before I could ask again, his smile suddenly changed—it swept up his face and into his eyes, radiance practically shooting out the tips of his hair. My heart pitter-pattered inside my chest just like it had that first day in Seaside.
“What is it?” I asked.
His only answer was a new smile, one I’d never seen before.
I touched his face, wishing I had the time to drop into his lap and make the world go away.
Todd’s grip tightened as his mouth opened. “I . . .” he began,
his eyes sparkling like gemstones in the darkness. Then his new smile shifted into the pulled-back grin I loved so much. “You look very beautiful tonight, if I hadn’t mentioned it yet,” he whispered, softly jiggling my hand inside his.
“Thanks,” I replied, smoothing his tie. “So do you.”
He lifted his chin, pointing behind me. “They’re waiting for you.” I turned my face just in time to see the three heads of the other members of Mustang Sally inconspicuously disappear behind the heavy red velvet curtain that obscured the exit behind me.
Todd halfway rose out of his seat as the arm that held my hand gently persuaded me toward the exit. “Knock ’em dead, Abby,” he whispered.
{chapter 22}
“TWIST AND SHOUT”
“Shake your tail feather,” Todd whispered impatiently. “Shugger and Molly are here.”
I looked up from where I was lying on the rug, my bare feet up on the leather ottoman. For the past ten minutes, Hal and I had been conference-called into a morning radio program broadcasting out of Dallas. Even when we had no new album or concert to promote, we were still promoting.
“Time’s up,” Todd said, pointing to his watch.
“Thirty seconds,” I mouthed.
“You need shoes.”
“Which ones?” I asked, the phone away from my mouth.
“Irrelevant. Whatever you were wearing yesterday. Those . . . whatever . . . strappy things.”
“Jimmy Choos?”
He looked at me blankly.
“Black alligator, with the silver straps.” I pointed to a location under his couch.
Our first month in California was almost at an end. I was working fulltime, and Todd was doing his best to keep me on track, shouldering some of Molly’s herculean task.
“Sally.” The low, rumbling request made me lift my chin so I was looking at Shugger upside down, standing in the open doorway. His enormous lips were pressed together with annoyance while the rest of his face showed no emotion.
I immediately sat up and terminated my part of the call. “Yes, I really have to go now. Hal will take it from here. Byeee!” I tossed the phone on the couch. “Oh, hi there,” I said innocently, beaming up at my huge bodyguard.
A growl rumbled from deep inside his throat. His face remained humorless as he pointed one thick, accusing finger at Todd.
“Hey man,” Todd said, raising his hands like he was surrendering to the cops. “You try getting a woman off the phone.”
Shugg growled again as we paraded past him out to the car. He hated being late.
The limo pulled away from the curb. “Got the bags?” Molly asked.
I looked at Todd, and he nodded.
“Bloody right of Max to put you up downtown tonight,” she went on, tapping violently on her iPad. She was in a state. “Although I don’t know what the bloody use will be. He told me it’s to be an all-nighter at the studio for everyone, because of the string of your bleeding personal appearances today.”
“It’s a nice gesture,” I said, lowering sunglasses over my eyes, “at least to offer us the Hotel Roosevelt.” I looked at Todd. He was staring out the window at the passing scenery. One of his hands was at his chin and the other rested on the seat between us, barely touching my leg.
He blinked slowly and breathed slowly, like he was truly relaxed. The hand at his chin moved up and his fingers ran through the side of his hair. It was uncharacteristically mussed; dark strands poked up in back like a cowlick.
I drank him in, all the things I liked, all the things I loved, all the things I wanted, suddenly wanted more than anything else in the entire world.
Strange. Nothing new and nothing major, but something about the way he looked right then caused a smoldering volcano to erupt in my mid-region. With my next breath, that thick heat flowed up to my chest. I felt flushed and feverish as I looked down at my arms that were covered in goose bumps. The car rolled over a pothole. Our shoulders knocked, and I thought my pounding heart was about to beat right out of my chest.
It was right there and then, in the company of Molly and Shugger on our way into L.A. for a costume fitting, that my decision was made. It was time.
And I figured Todd should know about it, too, since it involved him.
Now, how shall I put this?
I reached over to Todd’s arm. “I’ve always wanted to stay at the Roosevelt,” I said to him.
Nice beginning, Abby. Subtle. My fingers ran light circles along the inside of his elbow, up his forearm, to just inside the sleeve of his shirt.
“Maybe,” I said, my voice softer, “we’ll get finished with work early enough tonight to check out the Gable and Lombard honeymoon suite.”
He was still staring out the window, apparently needing another hint.
“I hear they sprinkle the king-size bed with rose petals. Did I ever tell you how much I love rose petals, Todd, and king-size beds?” My hand slid down to the curve of his elbow and squeezed.
Slowly, Todd turned from the window. His expression was puzzled at first as he focused on my face, probably trying to read my eyes behind the dark glasses.
I flipped them up to hold the front of my hair back, giving him a better look at me.
He blinked a few times once he was able to decode what my expression was screaming at him.
“Oh,” he said. It almost looked like he gulped. “Is that so?”
I nodded once.
Grinning, he took my hand off his elbow, sandwiching it between his two hands. He was blushing a little, which made me feel even crazier for him. I leaned over and gave him a kiss, nuzzling my nose to his cheek afterwards.
“You might’ve waited to inform me of this till we were alone,” he said quietly, still allowing me to cuddle.
“We are alone.” Then I remembered that Molly and Shugger were sitting in the backseat with us, but I didn’t move away. “This is as alone as we’ll ever be in broad daylight.”
Almost as an acceptance of this fact, Todd kissed me back. This was not his usual M.O., so I took full advantage of his lapse in judgment.
“Ughh.”
My eyes fluttered open at the sound.
Across the short aisle from us, Molly’s arms were crossed, a definite pout on her lips. “Geh a room, why don’ ’cha?” she grumbled, letting her Eliza Doolittle slip out.
“That’s the general idea, Molly,” I replied.
Todd moved his face away from me and pressed his fingertips on my collarbone, forcing me back to my seat. “Control yourself,” he implored in a whisper before turning his face away. Under his breath he added, “But only until tonight.”
My heart jumped to my throat, the pit of my stomach burned, my arms and legs prickled and tingled—sensory-overload—while Todd’s gaze was directed out the window as before, playing it cool.
A moment later, however, he burst out laughing. “Little Miss Subtle.” He grinned at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, scooting me over.
A warning growl vibrated from the other side of the limo. “Err, ya’ll’ll be gettin’ two rooms, Sally,” Shugger snarled, narrowing his eyes. “Or I’ll—”
“Shugg,” Molly hissed. “Give it a rest already.”
About a million hours later, after two interviews, three fittings, lunch with a reporter, and one stop at an inner city elementary school, the four of us arrived at Studio Universe—time for me to start my real job. After chatting with some record execs in the lobby, we stepped into the elevator. Simultaneously, all of our cells started ringing. Molly answered hers but got no reception. The second the elevator doors opened, I knew something was wrong, and I could hear Max’s voice from down the hall.
His back was to us when we entered the recording studio. As soon as he heard us come in, he turned around. “Our future ex–technical engineer has managed to crash the whole system,” he said, pushing a hand through his dark hair.
I looked past his shoulder to find a pale-faced twenty-something guy with a phone plastered to the side of hi
s head, frantically clicking a mouse while staring at a black, ominously blank computer screen.
Max glared down at the guy. “He promises it will be up and running by ten a.m. tomorrow.” Then Max looked at me with an expression of tired frustration. “Nothing for you to do here, babe. I guess you’re off until then.”
“What?” I said, not so much because I hadn’t heard him, but more because I couldn’t believe what I heard. “I’m off?” I repeated slowly. “For sixteen hours?”
Max nodded and then turned his back to continue barking at the poor tech guy.
I shot a look at Todd; his eyes were wide, staring back at me. We were thinking the same thing.
“Sixteen hours,” I whispered in a rush. “At the Roosevelt.”
The gaze between us was electric.
Todd sprang into action. “I’ll get the car keys—”
“I’ll grab my purse.”
We shot in opposite directions, not wanting to waste even a minute.
“Where’s the . . . and my . . .”
“Your overnight bags are still in the limo,” Molly said to me, answering my unfinished questions. “I’ll have them sent over. You’re already registered; just check in at the desk under Todd’s name. And you,” she grabbed my arm as I was about to rush by, “are the luckiest sucker I have ever met.”
I looked past her at Todd, who was holding the elevator door open with his foot, one enthusiastic hand beckoning me over. “Don’t I know it,” I said with a grin.
Molly let go of my arm. “See you tomorrow. Do not be late.”
“I won’t!” I called over my shoulder as I practically sprinted toward the waiting elevator. When I made it inside, Todd stepped back, and the doors sealed.
We stood side by side, looking straight ahead. I was breathing hard from my wind sprint, and my breath was the only sound as we began our descent.
After a second, Todd bumped his shoulder against mine.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he echoed, looking down at me. His green eyes held an excitement I’d never seen before. When I turned to him, I lost my breath for a whole new reason.
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