Perfectly Scripted

by Christy Pastore

  RONAN: Have fun at Maggie’s event. Send me a picture. Preferably one of you naked.

  Laughing, I shook my head and typed a quick response.

  ME: The event was a surprise wedding! The groom is Harrison Ranford. I’ll send you a picture but i will not be naked. I miss you madly.

  After turning off my phone, I scanned the room while Tinley shamelessly flirted with the bartender. Then I caught myself staring at the ring Ronan had given me, and my heart thumped in my chest. I wished he were here.

  A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, tearing me away from my thoughts of Ronan.

  “I’m going to go check on Maggie and Harrison. Do you want to come along?” Tinley asked.

  “Absolutely,” I replied before taking a sip of my drink. “Instead of cowboys and ski instructors, you’re into bartenders now?”

  She laughed, smiling over her martini glass. “Not so much.”

  We climbed the marble staircase to the second floor, where Maggie and Harrison were smiling for the photographer.

  “Who is that?” I asked, nodding to the handsome man wearing a pinstriped navy suit and standing next to Maggie’s new husband.

  “That, my dear, is Sebastian Ranford. However, I prefer to call him by one of his few nicknames: manwhore, slut, or playboy.” She laughed and tossed back her martini. “I could go on.”

  “Maybe he just enjoys sex. I mean, look at him.”

  “I don’t even know how to respond to that,” she said, her voice cracking with annoyance.

  “Oh, my darling girls, I’m profoundly pleased that you’re both here,” she said, shifting on her heels. “I want a photograph with you both. Do not leave.”

  “Sure thing, Aunt Maggie.”

  I wasn’t sure I could take Tinley seriously with that accent. She made me giggle.

  Sabastian glanced at her and said, “Save me a dance Tinley.”

  “No chance, Ranford,” she shot back quickly. “Judging by the lip stain on your collar, it seems that you already have a dance partner.”

  He smirked. “Well, that’s the most you’ve said to me since we met. I think you’re starting to like me.” He sidestepped her and headed straight for the bar.

  Tinley kept her eyes forward, focused on the bride and groom, but a ghost of a smile crossed her lips.

  After they snapped a few more pictures of the newlyweds, Maggie motioned for us to join her in the sitting room.

  Careful not to crush her bouquet, I gave Maggie a quick hug. “Congratulations, Mrs. Ranford.”

  “Thank you for coming, my dear.” Grasping my hand, she said, “You look so lovely in red, darling. And this ring! My goodness, it’s gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. It was a gift from Ronan, but you’re not getting off the hook that easily, Duchess. How could you not tell me this was a wedding—your wedding, no less,” I teased.

  “Darling girl, you know how I love a good party? Well, I adore a surprise party even more.”

  “Yes, this is a surprise. He’s very handsome,” I whispered. “Tell me about him.”

  “Harrison retired a few years ago. He was a screenwriter. His wife died two years ago from pancreatic cancer.”

  We switched up our pose, and she continued talking about how they love the theater, ballet, and traveling. She wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing me that it was true love though. This was, after all, her third marriage.

  “But why marriage?”

  “He’s absolutely wonderful—loving and kind. Harrison makes me feel alive.” Then she cupped my chin in her hand. “Darling Holliday, when you find that special someone you love grab ahold of it and don’t let go. Life is too short. Live each day to the fullest and with love.”

  Maggie, like Charlotte, had time and again given me sound advice—or, as I liked to call them, grand pearls of wisdom. My eyes drifted to my ring once more, and I twisted it around my finger. I felt infinitely closer to Ronan even though he was thousands of miles away.

  I left the reception around midnight and went straight home and to change into my pajamas. What Maggie said about finding that special someone struck a chord inside my heart. I took a seat at my writing desk and pulled out my therapy journal. My hands flipped the pages, and I read my last few entries pausing for a moment at the one I had titled:

  The page was blank because I had yet to understand what exactly it was that I was afraid of. Was it Derek? His threat? What would happen if he found me? I scribbled some geometric shapes and I pondered the elements of my issue. Tapping my pen to my lip, it finally hit me.

  I’ve gone over a hundred scenarios in my head about how Derek would make good on his promise, each one worse than the last. But Maggie’s words and my feelings for Ronan had me determined to take control of my fear.

  Holliday

  Between texting Ronan, last-minute additions to the show’s guest list, several prep meetings, and the final dress rehearsal, the rest of the weekend flew by. Some of the models were unable to make their fittings because they were booked for other shows, but we had plenty of time to prepare for any needed alterations and changes before tonight’s show at the Union Club.

  After spending my lunch working out I returned to the ballroom at the Union Club. Charlotte was talking to Maya about seating arrangements for the exclusive invite-only after party we were hosting, complete with champagne, couture cocktails, finger foods, and beauty treatments and massages set up in VIP suites.

  On my way to the gifting suite, I was caught off guard by the sight of Heather leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Her clothes were wrinkled, and there was a giant coffee stain across the neckline. Not only that, but her skin looked blotchy and her hair was kind of stringy—oily, even. The bags under her eyes told me that she probably hadn’t slept in days.

  “Heather, what are you doing here?”

  “Unfortunately looking for you,” she scoffed.

  “What’s with the attitude?”

  “Look, I’m only going to say…to say this once so listen up.” Her words came out harsh, though slightly irregular at the end. “Stay the hell away from Grady.”

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t seen him since the Foundation Gala. Besides, that’s rich coming from you, the woman who, weeks ago, attempted to seduce my boyfriend.”

  Heather looked stunned. “Was that his version of what happened?” she asked, moving to stand in front of me, and that’s when I smelled the alcohol on her breath. “He came on to me.” Her step faltered as she backed away from me, but she recovered by leaning against the wall.

  Even though I was irritated at her for lying about Ronan and demanding that I stay away from Grady, I managed to maintain my cool. Clearly, she needed some help.

  “How did you get here?”

  She opened her handbag and pulled a pack of gum out. “I drove.” Then she popped a piece in her mouth and let out a high-pitched laugh.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “How is that any of your business, Hollie-day?” she asked, purposely mispronouncing my name.

  Dammit, she wasn’t going to make this easy for me. My gut told me to call her a cab, but I also figured Grady deserved a call as well. After fishing my phone from my handbag, I looked up his number. Heather started to walk away, so I hurried to catch up to her. I couldn’t let her leave, much less get behind the wheel of a car and drive.

  “Hey, Heather,” I called after her. “Would you like to get some coffee?”

  Grady answered then, and I explained the situation. Heather started screaming at me, swinging her handbag in my direction. I managed to dodge each attempt.

  “Grady, get over here and pick up your girlfriend now,” I snapped.

  “I’m across town with my agent. Don’t let her leave,” he replied, his voice was filled with concern. “I’ll be there soon. Bye.”

  I killed the call, and focused my attention back to Heather. Once she’d anchored herself to the wall, she slid down until she fell on her ass. Drawi
ng her knees up to her chest, she groaned and then buried her face.

  Sighing, I called Blake and asked him to bring me some black coffee from the café downstairs. After I’d hung up, I heard Heather crying. Shit.

  I froze as my mind reeled back to my conversation with Ronan. I didn’t want to get involved, but at this point, it seemed unavoidable. Blowing out a breath, I walked over and sat beside her. A few staffers walked by, giving us forced smiles or nods.

  I pulled a tissue out of my handbag and waved it in front of her. “Here you go.”

  She shot me a confused look.

  “Go on. Take it,” I insisted.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled through her sobs.

  Feeling terribly uncomfortable there, I sat with Heather Young, listening to her sniffle and blow her nose. After the way she’d treated Ronan, I didn’t want to be nice to her, much less give a damn. After several minutes, and extreme self-control on my part, the sound of whistling drew my attention toward the end of the hallway. Blake had shown up with the coffee. Offering the cup, I urged her to take a drink. To my surprise, she didn’t resist or dump it on me.

  After clearing his throat, he asked, “Should I stick around?”

  I took him aside and said, “Yeah. Could you wait for me inside the suite?” I handed him the keycard. “I shouldn’t be too much longer. If her boyfriend can’t make it, will you take her home?”

  He nodded and let himself into the room. I looked at my watch and realized I only had an hour before I had to be in Charlotte’s room to have my hair done. Ten minutes later, Heather stood up and set the coffee cup on the credenza in the hallway.

  “Feeling any better?” I asked.

  “A little bit,” she replied, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Trust me, I don’t want to be.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at me and laughed softly. Then I received a text from Grady saying that he was there and wanting to know where to go. Feeling relieved, I sent him the suite number.

  “Your boyfriend is here to pick you up.”

  She sighed deeply. “Great. Can you not tell him about the drinking?”

  “It’s not my responsibility to tell, but you should let him help you.”

  She rolled her eyes and scooped up her handbag. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. Just remember what I said. Grady is off-limits to you.”

  I held my hands up in surrender. “I’ve got no problem with that.”

  As the last word left my mouth, Grady appeared, and Heather walked towards him. He looked my way, but I didn’t know what to say or do. Wave? Smile? Nod? Shrug? I wasn’t “allowed” to do any of those things.

  They started to argue, so I tapped on the door and Blake let me in. Closing it behind me, I shook my head.

  “That looked pretty intense with you and the blonde,” Blake said before grabbing the remote to turn the television off.

  I ran my hands through my hair. “Yeah. It wasn’t how I wanted to spend the last hour.”

  “You want me to get you a drink from the bar?” he asked.

  “You know me well, Blake. Thanks. That would be amazing.”

  The clapping was deafening, but Charlotte had earned every single round of applause. The runway presentation had gone off with only a few minor backstage hiccups. There was no sign of Melina— or any talk of her alleged accusations. Charlotte had been nervous most of the day, but her lawyer had assured her that any rumblings would be dealt with swiftly. Any time she’d felt uneasy, I’d drawn her attention elsewhere in an effort to keep her sane. The only thing Charlotte had to do now was to wait for the incoming orders and show reviews and, more importantly, relax.

  Before the show, Ronan had texted me, sending best wishes and much love. He’d managed to surprise Char and me with two dozen red and white roses for good luck. The next day, he would travel to Berlin, the day after that Milan, and finally in London that Friday, where his parents and younger sister, Ella, would be attending the premiere. Last time we’d spoken, he’d told me how excited he was to see his family. He hadn’t been London since last November.

  “Congratulations, girlie!” Tinley appeared in the doorway, making her way through the crowd backstage.

  I hugged her and handed her a glass of champagne. “Thanks so much for being here. What did you think of the collection?”

  Before she could answer, the photographer from Belle Magazine shouted, “Tinley! Holliday! Over here! Give us a smile for the cameras!”

  It didn’t take long before we were surrounded by more magazine photographers. They were polite, gathering a few quotes from us, and after ten minutes, they were gone.

  “Back to your question—everything was beautiful.” She waved her hand in the air. “I especially loved the evening gowns and the handbags. I need one in every single color and style.”

  “I think we can make that happen,” I replied, bumping her shoulder with my own.

  We walked into the ballroom to escape the backstage chaos. All the clothes were being packed up in garment bags, and the accessories were boxed carefully.

  “Isn’t that your ex-boyfriend standing by the bar?” Tinley asked without making it obvious where to direct my gaze.

  What the hell is he doing back here? With all the paparazzi around, I couldn’t risk having another photo of Grady and me surface in the tabloids.

  “Oh, do I have a story for you, but I cannot tell you here,” I said in a hushed voice, looking over my shoulder. “Let me go check on Charlotte, and then we’ll get out of here.”

  She nodded. “Juicy gossip?”

  I shook my head, and I went off to find my sister. Five minutes later, I bumped into her while she was talking with one of the buyers from Saks. Once they’d finished their conversation, I said hello and made small talk about the show and the collection. Then I asked Maya to escort the Saks buyer, Veronica, up to the suites. Another buyer approached Charlotte as my phone vibrated.

  GRADY: I need to talk to you.

  ME: No. Chaos, remember? I’m not trying to be rude. Sorry.

  GRADY: It will only take a few minutes. I promise.

  Before responding, I looked around for Tinley. She was near the runway, talking to Gavin Lacourt, the famous fashion photographer. I sent a message to her asking to meet me up in my suite when she was finished.

  ME: Fine. Meet me in room 635. Do not follow me. Wait five minutes after I leave.

  Well, I was juggling a lot of balls in the air tonight. I would be glad when this day was over so that I could sleep. I wished Ronan were there and that I was going home to him.

  Home. I sighed at the thought. The place where we would curl up by the fire with a bottle of wine and share stories about our days. Shit. That thought made me wonder if I should even tell Ronan about the Heather incident.

  I should tell him.

  I would tell him.

  The buyer stepped away, and I faced my sister. “How are you doing?”

  “Wonderful,” she hummed. “How’s it going backstage?”

  “Good. Jesse and his crew have everything under control. I’m going up to the VIP suites with Tinley. Also, Grady showed up and he wants to talk to me.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Nodding, I replied, “I assume it has to do with Heather.”

  A server walked by and Charlotte grabbed a glass of champagne. Earlier, when we had been getting our hair and makeup done, I’d told her all about the Heather Young drama. She’d been impressed with the way I’d handled things and told me to stay far away from those two. I’d agreed.

  But he had shown up, and that didn’t seem to help matters.

  “Well, go talk to Grady. I have a few more interviews, but keep your phone close.” She winked and brushed past me. “It might be an early night for me.”

  Turning on my heel, I looked over her shoulder and saw Lucan. He took her in his arms and gave her an utterly romantic kiss.

  Across the room, I spied
Blake. I walked over to him to let him know where I was going. I was beginning to be okay with the idea of having a bodyguard twenty-four-seven. Not that I needed the protection, but today, having Blake around had been both helpful and comforting. And as a bonus, he was beginning to loosen up. He actually called me Holliday the other day instead of Miss Prescott.

  Exiting the ballroom, I turned the corner, making my way to the bank of elevators. I pressed the button, and stepped into the car. On the ride up, I checked my phone for any new videos or photographs of Ronan on the red carpet. Score! There was an article with new pictures on Tinsel and Hollywood dot com. Ronan looked so handsome in his black suit. His hair was tamed back in relaxed waves. Standing taller than his petite co-star, he oozed confidence and mass sex appeal.

  He’s about to become a huge star.

  The doors parted and I walked towards my room. Once inside, I kicked my heels off, grateful for a moment to take a breather. A few minutes later, right on time, Grady knocked on the door. He sidestepped me to stand near the bar and helped himself to a drink.

  “The show was cool,” he remarked.

  “Yes. We’re quite pleased with how it all came together.”

  He finished his drink and poured another. Further delaying our conversation, he stepped onto the balcony. The chilly breezed whipped through the room, sending a shiver up my back.

  “Okay, close the door and tell me what this is all about. I have guests to entertain.” As I drew in a breath, my irritation flared.

  He shuffled back into the room and took a seat in the armchair.

  I smoothed my palms down the back of my dress and took a seat across from Grady.

  “I took Heather to a rehab facility today,” he confessed. “As it was painfully obvious, she’s using again.” He pushed to his feet, shoving a hand through his hair. “She claims Ronan came on to her.”