by Holly O'Dell
"Sometimes we're put into situations that we'd never imagined," I said as I looked at Devin, who was chumming it up with the other golfers on his team. He wore a Titleist cap, navy-blue polo shirt, and khakis.
Jenna followed my gaze. "Say, isn't that Devin Underhill? I haven't heard much about him lately"
"Well, you are in Buffalo"
"Hey, I'm still connected!" Jenna joked. "Just because I moved doesn't mean I don't live vicariously through the New York gossip scene. Yeah, for a while there, Devin seemed to be all over the map with the women. But he seems to be getting a grasp on things, or something like that"
I smiled, "I must be doing my job then."
Jenna stepped back. "No way, he's your client?"
"Yep. We're doing some work for him and the Hotel Bella chain. I suppose you wouldn't be interested in doing an interview with him?" It was worth a shot, at least, to get him some upstate publicity.
"I don't know, Kate. I'm not sure it would really resonate with our viewers." She looked more closely at where he was standing. "On the other hand, I do see that he's on a team with one of Bills, so maybe that's my angle. I could never say no to a friend."
"And as your friend, I should warn you that Devin might try to hit on you, so be on guard. Remember, this is your friend speaking, not his PR lackey"
"Thanks for the warning," she smiled. "I think I'll be able to hold my own"
"That's what I thought, but then-"
Jenna tilted her head. "Then what?"
Woops. I almost slipped about Devin and I dating. I must not get too lax, even with good friends who happen to be in the media and could make or break his personality makeover. "Oh, I was just going to say that he's a charmer, that's all," I covered.
I walked over to Devin and tapped him on the shoul der. "Sorry to interrupt, but there's an affiliate here from Buffalo who'd like to interview you about your expectations for the tournament today"
He excused himself from the group of men, who were mingling while waiting to golf their next hole. "Buffalo, eh? I've officially made it."
"Don't be a jerk. This is an old friend of mine who happens to be doing a favor for us. And you're playing with one of the Buffalo Bills, so try to act like you know what's going on."
"Lee Evans? Yeah, I know who he is. You're so persnickety."
"You call it persnickety, I call it organized. Thank you for doing this," I said curtly.
We walked over to Jenna and I did the formal introductions. I stood back while Jenna's cameraman made adjustments and she and Devin did some small talk before the interview. It seemed innocuous; maybe Devin could talk to a beautiful woman without clubbing her over the head and dragging her back to his cave.
"Rolling in three, two, one," the cameraman announced.
"Devin, could you tell us a bit about why you're in this tournament to help prevent heart disease?" Jenna asked off-camera.
"I was just talking to Lee Evans about how I had lost my mother to a heart attack, so it was good for me to be out here to help the cause. And, it can't hurt to get a head start on the golf season," he said with a laugh, trying to lighten up the mood from his previous comment.
There was some more idle commentary between the two of them before the camera stopped rolling and they parted ways with a firm handshake. How had I forgotten that his mom, Vivian Underhill, had died of a heart attack ten years ago? It was all over the news, but it was also before my time in New York-and my time with Devin. He never once brought her up, never had any pictures of her on display. I had to believe that what he said to Jenna was more than just a sound bite.
Jenna grabbed my elbow. "Listen, Kate, I have to chase down some other players. It was so good to see you. Thanks for recommending the Devin interview. I was skeptical at first, but that stuff about his mom will really resonate with any audience. And don't worry, he was a perfect gentleman"
"Thank you for agreeing to do the interview," I said blankly, my mind still on Devin. "Take care of yourself."
I started walking toward Devin, who had returned to his teammates. But I immediately stopped, wondering what good it would even do to bring up his mom. It was probably enough for him to have even talked about her, so why salt the wound?
"You look lost in thought" Michael had appeared beside me.
"Nah, I always look like that."
Michael smiled in acknowledgment. "You're right, you kind of do"
"Did you know that Devin's mom died of a heart attack? I can't believe I didn't make the connection to that and this tournament"
"Yeah, last week he said this is the one charity event he's always certain to do every year. All the other stuff we're asking him to do is just fluff in his mind."
"Well, he gave a great interview to one of the Buffalo stations." Michael opened his mouth to say something, but I put my hand up. "Before you say anything, I think we should try to get a copy and get some of the stations to run it here."
"Can't hurt, I guess."
"So, where did you disappear to?"
"I was watching Miranda golf a few holes. I basically taught her how to play while I was still living in California. So I was just following her around, being half cheerleader, half coach."
I envisioned her learning to golf and flirtatiously saying, "Michael, I just can't just seem to get it right!" And he would walk up behind her, reach around her taut abdomen, and put his hands on top of hers showing her how to swing. Back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum. Ugh, why did I care?
"Do you golf?" Michael jolted me back to the present.
"Not well, and not often. You know where most of my golf knowledge comes from? That Golden Tee arcade game. How pathetic is that"
Michael blinked. "Not pathetic in the least. You're something else"
"Why, because I'm addicted to arcade games?"
"No, it's just that-"
But he didn't get to finish his thought, as Miranda came bounding toward us. She was wearing braids, a white visor, a white blouse, a pink sweater vest, and white capris. "I got a hole in one on the 18th!" She leapt in pure joy and embraced Michael. She broke away from Michael and then hugged me with the same fervor. "I haven't seen you all day, Kate. How have you been?" She backed away and looked me up and down. "As always, you look so cute!"
I wore baby blue cropped pants with a flair at the bottom, black wedged, open-toe sandals, and a white, long-sleeved blouse with a blue tie around the waist. I'll admit, I bought the outfit for today's tournament. A little retail therapy at H & M last night certainly helped calm the nerves.
"Miranda, have I told you lately how good you are for the ego?"
"She means what she says," Michael directed toward me.
Miranda shot him a look. "Kate, I'm dying of thirst. Want to go back to the clubhouse and get a soft drink?"
"That sounds good. Michael, will you keep an eye out for Devin?"
"Of course. You and Miranda have fun. I might even try to talk to some of these press hounds to get a good shot of Devin on the golf course"
"Thanks. We'll be back soon"
It took Miranda and me twenty minutes for what should have been a two-minute walk, but she had to stop every three feet to sign autographs. And she did it all happily. I couldn't blame Devin and Michael for wanting to be in her presence all the time; it was infectious.
We finally made it to the clubhouse. "I'll take a Coke," Miranda ordered politely from the bar in the dining room. She turned on her stool. "How 'bout you?"
"I'll take a Coke as well"
"That a girl, who needs that diet soda crap."
"There are some things I won't compromise on, and delicious, sugary soda is one."
"Funny, regular soda is something I won't give up, either. You order a Coke in L.A., and they look at you like, `Did you mean wheat grass instead?"'
"I don't know if I'd make it out there. I barely keep my head above water here."
She looked me in the eye. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Kate"
I
blushed, getting self-esteem advice from this goddess who had drawn whispers and admiring stares from others in the restaurant.
She must have sensed my uncomfortability and changed the subject. "So, Michael tells me you went to a Mets game"
"Yes, I forgot to thank you for those tickets. So, thank you so much. I had a great time." For the first two innings, I wanted to add.
"My pleasure. Anna had told me how much you were into the Mets, so it was the least I could do."
"Well, between the tickets and the dinner at Mod, I probably owe you about six months of manual labor."
She waved her hand. "Don't even worry about it. I'm having fun hanging out with you and Anna, who, by the way, is an amazing makeup artist."
"Isn't she? She's doing what she wants. I know she feels forever indebted to you for the opportunity too."
"I'm glad it's worked out for her. And it makes me look good, too, tapping into unused talent."
"Can you get me a job on the set?" I said jokingly.
"Are you serious?" Miranda's eyes flashed.
"Not yet, but I could be. I've been thinking more and more about a change. I'm just starting to run out of steam, especially with this whole Devin thing."
"I'm sorry to hear about the burnout. You should take a vacation. You're welcome to stay at my place in Malibu anytime if you just need a break. You and Michael could come for a visit." She brought a hand to her face. "He's a pretty good guy, huh?"
I was beginning to wonder whether she and Anna were in cahoots. "Yes, I enjoy working with him," I tried to reply without emotion.
"I think his only flaw is that he doesn't always think before he speaks"
"Oh, you've noticed it, too?" We both giggled.
"Take what he says with a grain of salt. He means well, but sometimes he gets ahead of himself and just shoots off at the mouth"
"Hey, pretty lady, I hear you got a hole in one" Devin sauntered toward Miranda. Why did Devin keep appearing at the most inopportune times?
"Another $5,000 to charity for that shot. I'm thinking that my next stop is the Masters." She seemed disinterested but continued to talk to him.
"They could use someone like you," Devin winked.
"How was your score?"
"Let's just say I brought the team average down, or up, however you want to look at it." Miranda looked confused.
"Eight over," he said flirtatiously, then became solemn. "But it's all for a good cause. My mom died of a heart attack."
Miranda's face fell, and she sympathetically squeezed Devin's wrist.
"It's just so ... so ... I mean, family is so important to me" He lowered his head. "And I know it's important to you, too, Miranda"
I leaned forward on my stool and propped my arms on the bar. This I had to hear.
"Well, sure, I, uh-" Miranda stuttered, looking caught off guard.
"I've read a lot of interviews with you where you said family was your number one priority," Devin said mechanically, as if reading from a script. "And it is with me too. My dad and I have never been closer."
I rolled my eyes. What I witnessed in our conference room between Devin and Fox a month ago could not be misconstrued as closeness.
"As you said in Never Tomorrow, `If you don't have family, you don't have love.' And we all need love"
Miranda scratched the back of her neck. "Wow, you've seen that movie? That's, well, surprising, to say the least" She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but I need to make a run to the ladies' room"
Devin pounded his fist on the bar, and I moved into Miranda's seat. "What," I exclaimed, "were you doing there?"
"Getting to know a new friend."
"She didn't seem all that interested."
He shrugged. "Give it time."
"And what was all that stuff about family?"
"Hey, can you fault me for doing my research?" Devin smirked. "She's kind of a tough nut to crack, so I thought this would soften her up a bit, you know, get her talking about family."
And then it hit me. "Oh, don't even tell me. You're using your dead mom as leverage with Miranda!"
"Shh, don't say it like that. Then I'll never get her where I want her."
Could this man have been even more soulless than what I had originally thought? I swung around on my chair, only to find Michael standing right behind us. "Get her where you want her, huh?"
When he should have looked ashamed, Devin was confidently grinning. "Hey, man, you know what it's like."
Michael raised his chest. "No, actually, I don't."
I felt the electricity jumping between the two men. No need to have the press picking up on a fistfight between a publicist and his client.
I stood up. "Listen, I think we should all go our separate ways" Devin and Michael just stared at each other.
Then Miranda walked up. "What's going on?"
I pulled her aside. "I think we should go"
"That was my plan anyway," she whispered confidentially. "I was getting a really weird vibe off of Devin."
I walked up to Devin. "Well, thanks for participating in the event today," I said dryly. "Miranda has somewhere else she needs to be, and so do Michael and I"
Devin tried to stand tall and proud, but I saw his nostrils give a slight flare.
"Can I offer you a ride anywhere?" he asked Miranda, almost desperately.
She flashed him a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm in good hands, thanks"
Miranda and Michael walked out of the clubhouse. I followed, but Devin yelled after me.
"Kate!"
I turned to look, naively thinking that he might apologize for his behavior.
"Wanna come back to my place?"
I searched his face for signs of remorse, embarrassment, sincerity-anything that would assure me that he was, in fact, human. But I found nothing, so I walked out the door.
41 kind of feel bad for him," Miranda said softly.
"That man deserves nothing, especially not your sympathy" Michael's eyes narrowed emphatically as Miranda's limo drove us back to the city. This was the most emotional I had ever seen him.
Miranda checked her pink watch, which had diamonds surrounding the face. "Do you guys mind if I have the driver drop me off at my hotel, then take you back to your houses? I need some time to unwind before this party I have tonight."
"Not at all," I replied. I, too, was looking for some time to unwind, and that's all I had planned for the rest of the weekend.
After we pulled up to the Waldorf Astoria, Miranda's driver had opened the door for her. She leaned over and gave us each a hug. "Thanks, you two, for your help with the Devin situation today. Michael, I'll call you tomorrow. Kate, we need to go out, just us girls."
I stared out the window absently as we pulled away. "Shouldn't we be worried that Devin's going to take off and undo all the good PR we've been giving him?"
Michael snickered. "I think his plans for the evening went awry"
"That's exactly my fear. Because he had intentions to keep Miranda all to himself this weekend, and that fell through, he will go out trolling for someone else"
"Has anyone told you that you worry too much?"
I ignored him. "All I can imagine is something showing up in next week's papers, and Gwen will have our heads."
"It'll be fine"
"Do you really believe that, witnessing what you did just an hour ago?"
"Yes, I do believe it. And even if he does go out, we got him interviewing with your friend, saying some powerful stuff about his mom and the charity tournament today."
"If only others buy it, since apparently Devin didn't."
Michael sighed as he looked at me. "I wanted to believe Devin, really, I did, but what I overheard him say in the clubhouse about Miranda.." His words trailed off. "I mean, who says that? I don't know, Kate, we just need to be done on this project. I'm really starting to dislike the guy"
I nodded empathetically, bemused that Devin had gotten under Michael's skin like this.
The lim
o driver turned to look over his shoulder at us. "West 126th Street, right?"
"Yup, that's right." I faced Michael. "By the way, is your car still on Long Island?"
"Nope, it's in Brooklyn. Miranda's driver picked me up. I've been in a limo more today than I have in the past three years"
"I don't do well in limos. For whatever reason, I always feel guilty, or like a poser."
"A poser? Wow, there's a flashback to junior high."
"Oh, didn't they use words like that in California?" I gently nudged him.
"Nah, but I heard it on TV once"
"Two more blocks, second building on the right," I directed the driver.
Michael rubbed his sideburn. "So, what are your plans for the evening?" His words sounded a bit forced, almost nervous.
"I just want to sit at home and veg out in front of the TV. I have been going nonstop the last month and just want to relax"
"Isn't that a cardinal sin, a single New Yorker staying home by herself on a Saturday night?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Same here. Honestly, since being on this Devin account, this is the most I've been on the scene since I moved here"
Maybe it was watching him looking out for Miranda, or the overall mood of the day, but I found myself giving Michael a courtesy invite. "Want to order Chinese and stare at the idiot box with me?"
"That sounds like a lot of fun, as long as I'm not intruding."
Hmm. That was a surprise. His answer was supposed to sound something like, "Geez, Kate, I would love to, but I have a lot to get done around the house tonight."
Instead, all I could say was, "No, you're not intruding at all"
We walked up the two flights of stairs to get to my apartment. It was odd to think that a little over a month ago, we had been in this exact place, mulling over how to help Devin's image. But now, it was a Saturday evening, and we were off the clock, I became very aware.
I threw my keys on a plant stand by my front door and bolted it once Michael had entered after me. I walked to the kitchen and opened my junk drawer, which was filled with old bills, a pair of scissors, and most importantly, takeout menus. I grabbed a few and brought them out to Michael, who had taken a seat on my purple couch.