by Milly Taiden
“Don’t worry about him. He’s an asshole.”
I should learn that act she just put on for him. I’m not a fan of sucking up, but I also don’t do well having enemies. Maybe because the only enemy I’ve ever had was myself.
Celia takes my arm and starts walking the perimeter of the room. “So, things I’ve learned over the years. Greg doesn’t actually do all that much work. Most of this stuff, you schedule it, and it runs on autopilot. So what he delegates to me isn’t all that much either. I basically get paid to do next to nothing. Which means for you, this is by far the best money you’ll make for the least effort.”
Great, so the easiest job also happens to be the most humiliating. “I’m not a fan of being useless.”
“You won’t be. Keenly, myself, and now you, we’re just the eyes of the mission. And the mission is to make rich people feel even more important. So you supervise those who are working. Make sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to with a smile on their face.”
We walk past men carrying white couches to the center of the room. By the big windows overlooking the coast, another group is piecing together a small wooden dance floor. On the other side of the room, a bar is being cleaned up and stocked with spotless glasses and liquor bottles. No one seems to be giving orders. Maybe Celia is right.
“There are other perks to this as well.” She stops at a table and rummages through a small blue handbag. She brings out a wallet and plucks a card from it, handing it to me. “Business account. Now, you can’t use it to buy a new car, but if it’s related to work, it’s covered by Platinum. So filling up your gas tank. Getting anything you need for Saturday. Hell, even after work drinks. Charge it, and consider it your bonus.”
“You’re serious? But then why did you stop working for them?”
“Isn’t Keenly reason enough? There are only so many years one can handle working with that arrogant prick, but don’t tell him I said so. He thinks I’m wasting my life, throwing it all away to start a family.”
“He’s a charmer.” I like Celia. If she were running things, I’d feel more at ease with this job.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a replacement bartender before Keenly realizes the old one quit.”
She walks away before my brain catches up. Maddie. I spin around to chase after her. I have the perfect back up plan. She’s fantastic and the guests will love her.
This is my opening to get Maddie into the party. After all she’s done for me, this would be one way to pay her back.
Of course, in my sudden excitement, I forget my sub-par coordination in heels, shift my weight awkwardly onto one foot, twist my ankle, and tumble to the floor.
“Oh, honey! You okay?” Celia asks, rushing back.
That’s one way to get her attention. Focus, girl. Tell her about your wonderful best friend who’d be perfect for the job.
“P-professional. Dedicated.” Celia helps me up as I stutter nonsense.
She laughs. “Say that again.”
I take a breath and pull my phone out, finding a photo of Maddie and hold it out for her.
Celia raises an eyebrow, waiting. A few chuckles from the catering table inform me I just had an audience.
I take a breath and force myself to create coherent sentences. I tell Celia about Maddie, sounding like I’m helping her campaign for presidency. But Celia nods, listening. She’s way cooler than Keenly.
I expect her to ask more questions about her experience, but instead she says, “She’s more graceful than you, correct?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then bring her by on Thursday.”
A goofy grin spreads across my face. I can’t wait to tell her. I want to celebrate my mini-success. I just stepped up and got something done. Only a slight throb coming from my ankle reminds me how sloppy I was, but whatever. Celia’s now my direct supervisor. I have a company credit card in my possession. And I just hooked my friend up with an unforgettable job. I’m on top of the damn world.
***
CHAPTER TEN
It’s quiet at Brecken’s Sports Pub. A couple sits quietly in a small booth staring at separate TV screens, seemingly unaware that they’re here together. Two men sit on stools at the other end of the bar, and Maddie checks on them intermittently, returning to our conversation without missing a beat.
“So when’s your first date?”
“Are you crazy? I barely got in two words with him. He was acting all weird, looking for something. Or someone...”
“You, maybe?” She leans in closer to me.
“I was standing right there, and it was like I was invisible.” I fumble with my phone, checking the time every couple minutes. I should get home and try to unwind before tomorrow. These unpredictable days are going to get to me fast.
“So next time you’re with him, pry a little further. You know he’s got some sexy skeletons in his closet.”
I believe his words to me were ‘mind your own business’. I shake my head. “Not gonna happen.”
The front door opens, and two more men walk through wearing suits, probably coming straight from work. Maddie flashes a bright smile at them, and both men seem to light up. This girl can accomplish more without a word, which reminds me I haven’t told her she got a job.
She continues with her Devon spiel. “You know, you could find out some juicy information and then sell it to the tabloids. ScandalLust would flat out hire you, I bet.”
“So which is it: date him or screw him over? I think he’d put a hit out for me if I got near the paparazzi.”
Maddie had been on her way to her new customers, but she freezes mid-step. “Hold that thought.” She grins, gets the guys’ drink orders and returns. “A man unafraid to kill... That’s a little sexy.“
“And you’re a little mental. No, I don’t believe he’s a murderer. At least, I don’t think so. He’s definitely hiding something though, and that’s exactly what I don’t want to get involved with.”
“But you know you do. Mysterious. Gorgeous.” She pulls her phone out from behind the bar to show me her newest wallpaper photo—a black-and-white Devon, shirtless, in jeans, looking extra angsty. “Lickable.”
“Maddie!”
She fills two pint glasses from the tap as she bursts out laughing. “Relax. I put it on there this morning to mess with you. I knew you’d give me an open opportunity.”
I hold onto her phone a minute longer while she takes the drinks over along with a plate of chips and salsa. Devon’s icy gaze is penetrating, and the thought that this photo was taken for the general public... Well, what would it be like to be his girlfriend? What would I possibly learn about him that the whole world doesn’t already know? How could I feel like I’m exclusively his when god knows how many other women gawk at photos just like this one?
Not to mention, he hardly knows I exist. Why bother imagining life as his girlfriend, when I don’t even register on his list of things worth paying attention to? It’s pointless.
Maddie snatches the phone out from under me. “You’re overthinking things. I can sense it.”
“Yeah, well, you can use those same psychic abilities in a couple days when you meet him.”
She’s half-listening as she works—pouring colorful bottles of liquor and juice into a shaker filled with ice. She finishes making a tropical martini and places it in front of me. She considers what I just said and laughs. “What? You dragging him to the apartment or something?”
“You’re running the bar at the party Saturday. I’m bringing you by to meet Celia on Thursday, and fortunately for us both, she’s much nicer than that Keenly asshole.”
She hesitates as if trying to gauge whether or not this is payback for the Devon photo on her phone. “You’re serious?”
“You know I’m never funny when I try.” I take a sip from my drink. Images of the beach and Devon flash across my mind. As good as this tastes—tangy and sweet—I can only imagine what he tastes like...
“You ar
e serious. Oh my god! I could kiss you right now.” She lunges across the counter and kisses my cheek with an exaggerated and loud muah. “You’re the most amazing woman on the planet Olivia Margot.”
By now all six patrons are staring in our direction. Their curious eyes linger for an uncomfortable moment before they return to their respective staring and drinking.
Maddie settles down and leans in to talk quieter. “So you got Devon to get me a job too? You’re on a roll.”
“No, I talked to Celia directly. Why would I tell Devon about you? He’d ditch me in a heartbeat.”
“Oh please.” She turns her back to type things into a computer. Receipts print out, she takes them to their owners, and she comes back. “You have no idea how much I owe you for this. That drink is totally on the house.” Her eyes brighten. “Better yet, I’m going to help you get Devon Stone.”
One look at her, and I know she’s committed. This was supposed to be my favor to her, and having her at the party was supposed to make it easier on me. But now with Maddie plotting some sort of game plan... Now I didn’t know what to expect.
She wanders off to collect credit cards and empty glasses. I gulp my martini faster.
***
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I can hear Celia talking to decorators when I arrive the next morning. My aching feet follow her voice, and I curse myself for wearing heels yesterday. And for what reason? To impress a guy? That worked out well.
I find Celia in the ballroom where people are installing extravagant light fixtures and hanging elegant tapestries from the walls to block off extra doors and entryways. The couches I saw yesterday are set up in a casual cluster in the center of the ballroom providing a comfortable lounge amongst the formal tables, and the big glass doors leading to the back patio are wide open, inviting in a refreshing ocean breeze that dances amongst all the fabric. The same linens I dropped off to be dry-cleaned yesterday are being unwrapped from their protective plastic and draped over the tables. It’s good to know I didn’t mess up that task, and now I can see the room coming together—white and cream and full of class. I’m impressed.
“Keenly hasn’t been by yet,” Celia says as if we were in mid-conversation. “But feel free to stick around. I’m assuming he’ll have some sort of to-do list when he gets here, and we can split it and probably end our work day quicker.” She smiles and turns to adjust the positioning of a smaller side table.
I feel awkward standing around while productivity happens around me, so I hobble out the doors into the fresh air. This way, I should see Keenly coming and can jump right back into the action. I’ve never felt more inadequate.
Sunlight glistens off the surface of the pool, mimicking the same sparkling of the ocean itself. Forget the chairs. I sit down in a spot near the pool where it looks like the water flows right into the Pacific. Stretching out my aching legs, I close my eyes and take in the invigorating breeze. This place is heaven.
“Is this you working again?”
I snap my head up and see Devon leaning against the railing of the nearest balcony. His car wasn’t out front. Where’d he come from?
“I’m waiting,” I call back. Reaching into my purse, I pull out my phone, needing something to make me appear busy. I’m not going to play the role of the idle dummy again today. I disregard Devon, since he’ll disappear in a second anyway, and instead, turn on my phone to find a missed text from Maddie:
Is he there? Tell me he is!
I smile and send her back a little thumbs-up icon.
From the corner of my eye, I see Devon walk down a set of steps, coming toward me. What does he want now?
He stops next to me and sits down just as casually as I had minutes ago. “You trying to ignore me today?”
He’s wearing raggedy jeans again—maybe the same ones from yesterday—a black v-neck undershirt and flip-flops. This jerk can even make flip-flops look sexy. I have to remind myself not to stare at him.
“Not ignoring you. Just here to work.” My phone buzzes, and I look down to see Maddie’s sent me a response:
Get me more info on his hot brother.
She’s included a photo of Devon and Kaidan standing together on the red carpet. I angle my phone so he can’t see the screen.
“So...Olivia.” Hearing him say my name catches my attention. He does remember. “How’d you end up in party planning?”
He looks down at me and shifts in his spot. His leg is almost grazing mine, and I find myself staring at the torn knee of his jeans. Something as stupidly ordinary as a few inches of tan skin leaves me entranced, and the heat from his closeness rises up like a growing wildfire, spreading up my legs, settling in the core of my body. I focus on keeping my breath steady, and my phone goes off again:
Seriously girl. Ask what’s in those genes.
Another buzz:
Better yet, ask what’s in those jeans ;-)
I feel my cheeks flush as I slam my finger against the button to shut off my phone and jam it back into my purse. “Sorry. I...um...went to school. For hospitality. I haven’t found a career yet. As you can probably tell. But... yeah. So I’m just here for now.”
I adjust myself to add a couple inches between us. He’s acting vaguely interested in my stammering, so I need to get it together—and fast. I move my feet to position them on one side of me and wince from the brief pain that leaves me wondering how runway models can handle stilettos but I can’t last a day in three-inch pumps.
“You okay?” Devon asks.
Not really. You’re being too friendly, and I can’t figure out your motives.
“Yeah, it’s just my feet. They’re sore from yesterday.” I laugh at myself. “But I don’t know why I’m telling you that. So you tell me. What do you do when you aren’t busy being rich and famous?”
He gives me one of his irresistible grins and answers while reaching over and grabbing ahold of my feet. Before I can stop him, he swivels my legs back around, placing them on his lap. I might have a heart attack.
“My time is spent helping pretty women get jobs and dodging any further questions about my personal life.”
He unstraps my sandals, removing each one slowly. He called me pretty. He’s touching me. My legs are the luckiest legs in all of L.A., and I can’t stop thinking about how we’re one thin layer of denim and a quiet room away from being two longtime lovers recovering after an intense horizontal workout.
The cold water from the pool lurches me back to reality as Devon drops my feet into it with a splash. I shriek with surprise but immediately realize the throbbing in my feet is subsiding, and my shock turns into giggles. “You did not just do that!”
He smiles back. “I figured that would help. Here, so you don’t feel as ridiculous.”
Devon places his flip-flops next to my sandals and hitches up the legs of his jeans. Ladies and gentlemen, we have calves—muscular, tanned calves.
He plunges his own feet in, and now his wet, left leg is right up against my right. I’m trying to keep from running my toes along his ankle, but it’s tempting.
Devon leans back with his arms outstretched to hold his weight. A cruel move as his muscles tense, stretching out the sleeve of his shirt.
“So...” I need a distraction. “I—uh—got my friend Maddie a job working the party too. She’s my roommate and really great. Pretty. Smart.”
“I’m just going to stop you there.”
I clamp my mouth shut. What did I do?
“I was asking about you,” he says with this casual tone. His directness sends a shiver up my arms and through my chest. “Come here.”
Where? I’m already here. He sits up straighter, puts his arm around me, and pulls me in closer. This is the best invitation I’ve ever received. Even better than that one time in fourth grade when Cara Summers—the coolest girl in my class—asked me to come to her Spring Break sleepover. Granted, as much as I felt out of place back then—with all the fancy, preteen magazines and my lack of coordination with a hair cur
ler—it was nothing compared to the out-of-body experience I am currently having.
I swear I’m melting under his touch, but I refuse to move. Number Three has pulled me into his grasp. He can keep me forever. This close to him, even his scent has me drunk with lust. I’m almost paralyzed.
He gives me a little shake. “Oh, Olivia. If we’re going to be friends, you’re going to have to open up...”
Open what?
“But it’s all right. You working here, and us seeing each other, you’ll loosen right up to my charming ways.”
I’m sure I will...
But—“Why are you being nice to me now?” I ask. He has to be up to something.
“Oh right. I’ve been kind of a dick, haven’t I?”
“Kind of.” I slap a hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”
He lets out a laugh, a real live laugh. “She speaks the truth. I can appreciate that. And I’m sorry. My mind’s been elsewhere. I’ve been trying to...” He trails off, distracting me by sliding his foot under mine, leaving my leg to rest right on top of his.
What had he been saying? Oh right. “Trying to what? You’ve been acting strange.”
He almost cuts me off again. “Don’t worry about it. Tell me where you grew up.”
I’ve never experienced so many mixed signals before. His leg touching mine. His sudden interest in us being friends. His refusal to talk about himself. And his blunt rudeness when I ask him anything. I’m being yanked around like a tug-o-war rope.
“I... I grew up here.” I say, wanting to keep the conversation going but unsure what to make of Devon’s behavior.
“Right in my backyard? See, you are full of surprises.”
I laugh out loud, grateful for the ease that washes over me. So what if he doesn’t want to tell me his life story? Why would he? And the longer it takes for him to open up to me, the more time I get to spend with him. I can’t complain about that.
“I was born and raised here—in California.” I giggle again. Keep yourself under control. “We moved a bit. But I came here after for college and didn’t leave.”