man like me could actually make something so delicate, insightful, sensitive, and thought-provoking. A movie so heartbreaking that it rivals even—”
“Stop!” Celeste held up her hands, laughing. “I’m just surprised. It’s not what I expected from …” She stopped again.
“Spit it out,” Nick said. He folded his hands as if waiting for a scolding.
Celeste smiled a little. “Well, from the annoying, spoiled kid who won’t stop trying to flirt with me.”
“I have to admit, something about you does bring out the flirt in me a little.” Nick smiled.
“A little?” Celeste teased.
“Okay, a lot. You just look so cute when you get annoyed.” He looked at the ceiling.
“Thanks a lot,” she said. “Hey, are you hungry? It’s almost midnight.”
“Starving,” Nick admitted. “You know my dormant
inner asshole needs to be fed on a regular basis.”
Celeste stood up. “Kitchen raid?”
“Wow,” Nick said, following her through the big
swinging doors into the vast, immaculate, silent kitchen.
“I feel like I’m entering some sort of inner sanctum.”
“You are—the kitchen’s like the Holy Grail of Pinyon.”
Celeste pried open one of the huge industrial refrigerators and gazed inside. “Usually, Solomon keeps stuff in here in case a guest demands, like, filet mignon at three a.m. or something.” She rummaged among the metal tubs and plastic-wrapped dishes, her head and torso almost disappearing into the frosty interior of the fridge, and emerged with a big plate and a bowl. “Jackpot.” She set the dishes on the counter. “Leftover chocolate soufflé and whipped cream.” She grabbed two bowls from a nearby shelf.
“Oh my God, that looks incredible,” Nick said.
Using his fingers, he stuffed a bite into his mouth. “It is incredible. Taste this.” He held out a glob of chocolate soufflé.
Celeste paused. Don’t be so uptight, she told herself.
She leaned forward and licked the soufflé off Nick’s finger, letting the creamy, fluffy chocolate spread over her tongue. She closed her eyes for a minute, just savoring the taste, and then, opening them, realized that Nick’s blue eyes were staring right into hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. She stared back at him, their faces only a few inches apart. Then Celeste turned away so fast, she almost knocked her bowl of soufflé into the counter. “Well, we should probably get back to work,”
she said awkwardly, blundering through the doors and back into the dining room.
The next few hours flew by as Celeste and Nick bent over their papers and calendars spread out everywhere, making to-do lists and master lists, and hammering out schedules. By three o’clock, Celeste felt like her eyeballs had been coated in sand and dipped in salt water. She groaned and put down her pencil. When she closed her eyes, yellow sheets of lined paper and calendar pages danced in front of her eyes. “Oh my God, I definitely need a break.” She twisted her back right and left, listening to the series of cracks. Beside her, Nick rubbed his red eyes and fell out of his chair, landing on the carpet with a crash.
“Are you okay?” Celeste asked, peering down at him.
“Fine,” he mumbled, his face mashed into the rug.
“Just wake me up when people start coming in for breakfast, okay?”
Celeste got up from her chair and reached down,
hauling at his arm. “Get up. We’re done anyway.”
Nick hauled himself up from the carpet and they
headed out into the dry, cool desert night. Celeste inhaled deeply. The fresh air smelled great after spending hours indoors. She and Nick walked down the red sandstone path side by side, their footsteps echoing against the silent buildings. Celeste wondered what had happened to the easy camaraderie of the meeting. She could sense the warmth of Nick beside her and accidentally bumped his shoulder as they walked. “Sorry!” they both said at the same time. There was a pause, and they looked at each other and laughed awkwardly. Celeste could feel the spot where he’d bumped her searing on her shoulder like a burn.
At the turnoff to the staff quarters, Celeste stopped and turned to face Nick. They looked at each other. The moonlight reflected off Nick’s cheekbones, turning his eyes into deep hollows.
“Your skin looks silver,” he said softly. For a long moment, Celeste stood frozen, and then she took a little step back.
“Um, see you tomorrow?” she almost whispered,
wondering why her heart was pounding.
“Yeah,” Nick said huskily. He turned and disappeared down the path.
Safe inside her room, with the warm yellow light dis-pelling all that dark tension outside, Celeste threw herself onto her bed. She curled up in a little ball and hugged her pillow to her chest. Where did all that come from? Celeste thought of kissing Nick at the party last year. That had been nothing—just drunk sloppiness. The party had been going on for a few hours, and everyone, including herself, had been pretty trashed. Madonna had been playing, and he’d leaned over and kissed her with a mouth that tasted like vodka. She hadn’t really thought about it too much at the time, and she certainly hadn’t felt anything. She hadn’t really seen that kiss coming. But tonight, under the stars, she’d been able to see in his eyes how much he wanted to kiss her.
Celeste hugged her pillow tighter and squeezed her eyes shut. She fought off the rising feeling that, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she’d wanted to kiss him back.
Chapter Twenty-one
Celeste felt like her head was spinning around in circles as the festival drew closer. Every day, she and Nick—who thankfully seemed to have forgotten
about the moment in the moonlight—ran around the resort like crazy people, making sure everything was in place. Aside from one of the waiters dropping an entire tray of glassware, everything was coming together.
A couple of days before the guests were set to arrive, Celeste was supervising the raising of the tent over the pool area. A group of sweaty, red-faced workmen were wrestling with the heavy white canvas, which kept snapping away from them in the high desert wind. Celeste could see that it was going to look fantastic when it was up—it covered the teak deck around one half of the pool, and the inside was going to be strung with shim-mery blue and green lights.
One of the workmen was about to stick a stake right into one of the flower beds. “Hey!” Celeste yelled. “I mean, excuse me! Could you move that over a few feet?
The flowers are right there.” The guy looked up and nodded. Celeste sank her head back against the lounge chair.
All she wanted to do was lie here in this chair for about another two days. But the workmen were now trying to shove the tent stakes into the tubs of palms placed around the deck. Celeste heaved a sigh and got up. She struggled to pull a tent stake out of a tub. Just as she yanked it from the sandy soil, her phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. It was Devon.
“Hey, girl!” Celeste squealed, tucking the phone between her cheek and shoulder and wiping her dirty hands on the back of her shorts. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”
“I know.” Devon’s voice sounded tinny. “They keep us crazy busy here—we’re in classes all day and then rehearsals at night. I’m meeting so many awesome people though—
like actors from the Royal Shakespeare Company! Can you believe it?”
“That’s so great,” Celeste said. “How’s Scotland? Is it amazing? Does it look like Braveheart?”
“Totally. I keep expecting Mel Gibson to show up in all that blue face paint. Hey, how’s everything going there? Are you excited for the festival?”
“Yeah,” Celeste said. “I’m nervous though! There are going to be so many celebrity types around, and everything has to be perfect.”
“Look, you’re an awesome party planner,” Devon
reassured her. “I’m sure you’ve been working your ass off.”
Celest
e smiled at the phone and sat down on one of the pool lounges. “Yeah. Nick and I have been up until, like, dawn every night going over things.”
“Oooh, how’s that going?” Devon’s voice dropped.
“Have he and Travis torn each other’s arms off yet or what?”
“No, they’ve been really good. I mean, I explained to Travis that it’s just business and he was totally cool about it. I mean, he knows how important all this is.”
“Yeah …” Devon sounded doubtful. “Travis has such a wicked temper though. Just watch it.”
Celeste scowled a little. “Well, don’t worry, he’s not even going to be here. He’s going to the beach that weekend with his buddies.”
Loud whiny music started up on Devon’s end of the phone. “What is that?” Celeste asked.
“Oh my God, it’s bagpipes. Don’t ask—they actually call us to our classes and meals that way. It’s insane. I feel like I’m turning plaid. Anyway, I have to go to monologue rehearsal. But I’ll be home right after the festival, so at least you have that to look forward to!”
Celeste heard her named being called and looked up to see her father standing in the doorway of the office, his arms folded and his face already red—hopefully with heat and not annoyance.
“Oh boy, got to go,” Celeste said. “Dad alert. Be good!”
“Not likely! Talk to you later.” Devon clicked off.
Celeste shoved the phone into her pocket and walked over to stand beside her father. She folded her arms too, and for a long moment, they surveyed the hive of activ-ity buzzing in front of them: the massive tent flapping, workmen nailing up supports for the arches of palm fronds, the huge bar being wheeled in, and the giant tubs of flowers and ferns being unloaded from trucks and placed around the perimeter of the pool deck.
Dad cleared his throat and Celeste looked up at him, suddenly anxious. Did he think it was tacky or something? Maybe he was worried about money. She didn’t want him to regret giving her this responsibility. Celeste fished around in her stack of papers for the budget and cleared her throat.
“Dad, I know this all looks really crazy right now, but believe me, it’s going to come together great. And it’s actually under budget, if you can believe that.” She offered him the clipboard, which he accepted and studied, leafing through the rest of her preparation papers: copies of invoices, lists, contact names, and cell numbers. “Look, Dad, we even have a spreadsheet with background on all the important guests—food prefer-ences and allergies, special requests, and names of partners. One of the VIPs’ wives is allergic to pepper, so we’ve even confirmed that the caterers will leave it out of the passed hors d’oeuvres completely.” Celeste told him.
Her father raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly.
He still hadn’t spoken, and Celeste couldn’t read his expression. He handed her back her clipboard and then squeezed her shoulder.
“Celeste,” he rumbled. “You’ve always worked hard.
I’m really proud of you. You’ve done a great job.”
Celeste could feel her face turning pink. Her dad draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief hug before turning and heading back into the office. Celeste heaved a sigh of relief. The festival hadn’t even started and she already felt like a success.
Chapter Twenty-two
Celeste stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her head. The desert twilight was spreading its rays throughout her room, and the soft warm air was blowing through the window, but she didn’t have to even glance outside. She could hardly believe it was actually here—the opening of the Palm Springs Film Festival.
It seemed like with all the planning and anxiety and last-minute emergencies, the day itself would never come.
But it was finally here. In half an hour, she had to be out at the main entrance to welcome the first set of guests.
Then the opening cocktail party would start. And then Nick’s party, the first big one of the festival, would be later that night.
Celeste smoothed on some Bath & Body Works
vanilla lotion. Laid out on her bed was definitely the coolest party dress she’d ever owned: a pink silk Marc Jacobs, knee-length, with a thick fold of fabric over one shoulder. And the shoes were Prada. She’d hardly been able to believe it when she’d found them at the Junk ’n’
Jive vintage clothing store in town. She slipped the cool silk over her head and looked in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly, just skimming the curves of her body.
She applied a little mascara and lip stain with gloss on top and smudged a little smoky eyeliner on her upper lids. In this heat, anything else would slide right off her face. Her phone rang. Celeste snatched it off the dresser, her heart pounding.
“What is it?” Celeste answered.
“Hey, baby,” Nick said on the other end. “You doing anything tonight? Want to hang out?”
Celeste tucked the phone under her cheek and
dabbed on another layer of Benetint lip stain. “Very funny. Are you calling just to annoy me or is there actually a problem?”
“Maybe just a tiny one—the projection screen won’t unroll. I think it’s jammed.” He sounded vaguely amused.
Celeste breathed a sigh of relief. Major crises she could not handle right now—minor crises, sure. “It was doing that earlier. You have to unroll it manually. Just get behind it. There’s a crank near the top. Just crank it open and we’ll leave it down for the party.”
“Excellent. At least one of us has a brain around here.” Celeste could hear the cracking of a back being stretched. “By the way, I don’t think I’m going to come to the cocktail party. I better stay around here and make sure no one knocks the palm arches into the pool or anything.”
Celeste shoved a little piece of paper with notes on key guests into her bag. “Is everything ready? Food, dec-orations, everything?”
“Yeah, it all looks great. Totally under control.
Actually, the food’s here now, so I better go tell that guy where to put it. He’s trying to set everything on the drinks table.” Nick chuckled.
“Go, go!” Celeste cried. “Quick!”
“Shhh, calm down. I’m going—see you later.” He
clicked off.
Celeste resisted the urge to start tearing at her cuticles and slipped her phone into her evening bag. If she came out of this evening without gray hair, it would be a miracle. She glanced at the clock and felt her heart rate spike. It was time to go out to the gates.
✦ ✦ ✦
Celeste stood near her parents and the Saunderses in the lobby, trying to not to fidget with her dress. The lobby was filled with well-dressed Hollywood types—everyone
slim, lovely, and dressed with the perfect indie-film edge.
Celeste tried not to gape at a woman wearing a torn black T-shirt and a huge diamond necklace talking to the guy in platform heels next to her. She glanced at her parents. They were beaming as they made pleasant small talk with the guests and accepted compliments on the resort. Celeste had never seen them happier.
Then she turned to peer through the main doors and her stomach plunged. There, getting out of a huge Escalade, were Travis and all five of his best buddies.
They were talking and laughing as they slammed the car doors, taking off their sunglasses and surveying the place as if they already owned it. Celeste could feel her pulse pounding in her temples. What the hell were they doing here? She barreled through the glass doors and marched up to Travis.
“Hey, babe!” he greeted her. She could tell he’d already been drinking by the flushed, jovial look on his face, but luckily he didn’t seem totally trashed—yet.
Celeste forced a smile.
“Hi. Hi, guys.” Everyone nodded.
“Hey, which way’s the pool, Celeste?” Kevin shouted.
“This place is awesome—how come you never had us down here before?” He slapped Travis on the back, almost sending him sprawling face-first onto the gravel driveway.
&n
bsp; “Well, the pool’s that way, but it’s closed—there’s a party there later tonight,” she said deliberately, glaring at Travis, who seemed totally oblivious. He was busy chortling at another one of his buddies, who had grabbed a hibiscus flower from a nearby bush and was prancing around with it behind his ear. “Travis,” Celeste managed between clenched teeth. “Can I talk to you alone for a sec?”
“Oooh, Trav, are you in trouuubbble?” Kevin
shouted as Celeste dragged her reluctant boyfriend off down the path.
Around the corner of the main building, Celeste
released Travis’s arm and turned to face him. “What are those guys doing here?” she hissed furiously. “I thought you were at the beach!”
Travis made little “calm down” gestures with his hands, patting the air around her like she was some hysterical child. “Look, don’t freak out, okay? We were going to go to the beach, but then I started thinking about Nick and I thought you might need a little male protec-tion.” He winked. She remained stony-faced. “So the boys came here.”
Celeste thought the top of her head was going to blow off. Her face felt tight and hot. “I honestly have no idea how you could think this would possibly be okay,”
she managed to say without screaming. “You know how important this is to my family. Those jerk-offs cannot come to the festival.”
Travis rolled his eyes. “We were just going to hang out on the golf course anyway until the parties are over, so stop worrying.”
Celeste looked at him warily. “Really?”
“Hey, baby, have I ever let you down before?” he asked, taking both her hands in his.
Was he kidding?
“Just keep them away, Travis,” she said, pulling her arms back. “I mean it.”
“Hey.” He held up a Boy Scout salute. “You have my word.”
Celeste eyed him for a long moment and then nodded.
She spun on her heel and marched away down the path.
Back in the lobby, Celeste slipped into the ladies’
room and splashed some water on her face, being careful not smudge her eye makeup. She took a few deep
Flirting with Boys Page 13