Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1)

by Celia Kennedy

  “Shush, shush! I’m so sorry, darling. I’ve put off this call as long as possible. I didn’t want to be the one to cause you any more unhappiness,” she said in a soothing voice, doing her best to comfort me. “Please! Ted will speak with him. I’m sure there was a misunderstanding, and as soon as he realizes that he made a terrible mistake, he’ll be begging you for forgiveness.”

  “His ego is too large for him to contemplate that he’s made a mistake. Ted will be wasting his time. Why hasn’t he talked to him before now? Anyway, why does Des Bannerman have to be at the wedding?” I ranted in a very ugly tone.

  After a lengthy pause, she cleared her throat and rushed into her explanation. “Well, you see, he’ll be Ted’s best man. They’ve been friends for years, and it’s only natural that Ted would want Des at his wedding.”

  My mind reeled. I truly couldn’t take this all in. How does one absorb the fact that one of the celebrity gods atop Mt. Famous has become a normal character in everyday conversation? How does someone like Des Bannerman become a part of the background of weddings, holidays, and vacations?

  And then, bam! Right between the eyes, I realized it. “You’ve seen him, Des Bannerman, since we were in France, haven’t you?”

  It was now very quiet in Italy. “Yes,” was the whispered reply.

  ***

  It was Saturday morning, and I’d been looking forward to my first day off in months. Sleep was all I’d wanted. Instead, the phone rang repeatedly.

  It wasn’t the first time I had heard all this, it was the third!

  The general outline:

  The phone rings.

  The answering machine picks it up, and Taylor’s happy voice inquires if the caller would like to leave a message.

  An anxious voice asks for me.

  I ignore the anxious voice.

  The voice apologizes for not having told me that she knew about Tiziana and Ted (and, consequently, Des).

  The voice assures me that Ted will sort things out with Des.

  The caller asks me to call back.

  I hadn’t called any of them. In addition to the fact that Tiziana was marrying Des Bannerman’s best friend, I’d absorbed the fact that Marian, Hillary, and Kathleen had all known that Tiziana was involved with Ted.

  Taylor, hearing Kathleen leave her message, candidly suggested that I was behaving like a spoiled brat and ought to be happy for my friend. After a lengthy tirade from me about what it was like to have been used and abused by Des and the press and then left in the dark by my friends, she didn’t approach the subject again. I spent the remainder of the morning lying listlessly on the sofa, huddled under an enormous pink fluffy blanket, my armor against the world.

  At some point in the morning, Taylor reminded me of my date with Liam that evening. “I’m not going! I’m not in a flirty mood. My nasty mood would put a serious damper on the evening.”

  “Well, too bad for you. I’ve told him you’ll be there, and I’m not about to tell him that you can’t make it because you’d rather mope around like a three-year-old who lost her favorite toy.” She grabbed my hand, trying to pull me off the sofa.

  “Ouch! What are you doing?” I asked while trying to pry her talons from my flesh.

  “You look like crap! Your roots need touching up, your eyebrows need a wax, your nails need a manicure, and who knows what state your legs are in! We’re going out and making you look like a woman again!”

  “Well, that was just rude!” I dragged myself in the direction of the bathroom.

  One shower later, I pulled my coat on, knowing she was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it to her. If I did that, she might ask me why I was behaving like a toddler, and I didn’t want to talk about “it” anymore.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t mention the state of your upper lip,” she said with a smile when we reached the salon. I nudged her hard with my elbow and then submitted to the frivolous indulgence of body maintenance.

  After spending an amazing amount of time and money on my appearance, I had to admit that the world seemed a better place, and I wouldn’t mind a little light flirtation.

  “Don’t worry, once you lay your eyes on Liam, you’ll be up for more than flirtation,” she assured me.

  “What makes you think he’s going to be all that interested?”

  “I told him that you were stunningly beautiful, but way too short to be a supermodel.”

  I gasped at her description of me. “He’s going to be really disappointed! If he finishes his first drink and bolts out of the bar, it will be you who’ll be paying the bill while I drown my sorrows in martinis.” I laughed.

  My height was always a part of every conversation whenever I met someone new. My lack of verticality used to really bother me, but now I see it as an excellent excuse to buy expensive, beautiful, high-heeled shoes. My collection was massive.

  She gestured at me, pointing head to toe. “He’s not going to be disappointed. You’re beautiful! What’s not to like? You’re thin and curvy, which is totally unfair. You have curly hair, which looks gorgeous even when you don’t shower for days! You have what I call elusive beauty; quirky exotic, low maintenance, great bones.”

  “You’re great for my ego! Thanks! I appreciate all that you’ve done today. Sorry I’ve been such a cow!” I admitted.

  Since we had an hour until the date would officially begin, she suggested we open a bottle of wine. She brought me a glass, which I held up to let the afternoon light filter through it. I had taken a few sips of the wine when my taste buds reminded me of the last time I’d had a glass of Beaujolais.

  “The last time I had a glass of red wine was the night Tiziana cooked dinner in Chamonix. The paparazzi had just published the first set of pictures of me with Des Bannerman. Sorry, but my taste for it is gone.” I took my glass to the kitchen and returned with another filled with Chardonnay.

  We had never discussed the particulars of my encounters with Des. I’d been too angry when I first returned, and most of my friends learned that, if they wished to remain on speaking terms with me, we weren’t discussing it.

  Taylor commented, as she examined her manicure, “I’m not sure I picked the right color. I had my nails painted pink to compliment my dress, but the pink is too pink. What do you think?”

  I shook my head to clear the images of Des as I looked at her. “Other than the fact that you sound like Dr. Seuss, you’re being a very good friend by not asking about my fifteen minutes of fame. If you want, you can ask me questions.”

  “Really? You are finally ready to answer questions? A day of beauty and a date with Liam was all it took? If I’d known that, I would have dragged you to the salon months ago.”

  She drilled me thoroughly about my foray into stardom. We were laughing pretty hard about Des wearing tighty-whities when we realized we had just enough time to freshen our lipstick.

  “Thanks, Taylor. It really helped a lot to talk about it. I’d actually forgotten that there were things that I liked about the bastard,” I said as I walked to my bedroom. I leaned on the door after I pushed it shut and laughed to myself. There really had been several hilarious moments. For the first time in months, I was really relaxed, happy, and looking forward to meeting someone.

  ***

  “Wow! Did you see him? He’s gorgeous!” I gushed at Taylor. Marcus and Liam were in the living room while Taylor and I got drinks for the four of us. “Do you think he likes me?”

  “Charlotte’s in love!” Taylor teased.

  “No, but I could be!” I said as I headed out of the kitchen with a Jameson and ginger ale for him and some wine for me.

  “Just don’t overdo it and say or do something you’ll regret,” she warned me.

  When we returned to the living room, Liam complimented us on our apartment. While it was a relatively small space, we’d worked hard to make it look elegant and homey at the same time.

  “Thanks! We thought about hiring a decorator but decided, between the two of us, we had enough es
trogen to pull it off,” I joked.

  Marcus decided to yank Taylor’s chain a bit. “Well, what they aren’t going to tell you is that they stole most of this stuff from Taylor’s parents’ houses. They had to! Otherwise they couldn’t afford their shoes.”

  Taylor gave Marcus a look that would have made a lesser man run for the hills.

  “We didn’t steal! They were redecorating. We were recycling! Besides, they’re free to have whatever they want back at any time!” She let herself be baited.

  “Yes, but they’ve never been invited here, have they?” Marcus teased some more.

  “No, but that isn’t because of the furniture. I just don’t think this space is big enough for my mother’s ego,” she responded.

  After another round of drinks and our gabbing up a storm, we headed out to my favorite restaurant in the Meatpacking District, Restaurant Florent. It’s a quirky little restaurant that serves French food. While the food is great, I really go for the ambiance.

  Earlier, when Taylor and I were discussing where to go, I’d suggested it. “Isn’t it a little ‘not too much’?”

  “Well, I like it, and if he wants to get to know me, he might as well find out what kind of places I like to go to. Since this is my blind date, I should get to decide. See, it doesn’t really matter where you and Marcus want to go!” I got just lippy enough for her to realize I was messing with her.

  Times like those I missed having Marian around. She would have entered the boxing ring with the enthusiasm of Mohammed Ali. We’d go a few rounds, swinging hard and taking head shots, but always in good fun. Not so with most people.

  “Well then, Restaurant Florent it is,” Taylor’d acquiesced, her tone full of quiet superiority.

  No jab.

  Upon arriving at our destination, Liam’s reaction to the restaurant was perfect. “This is brilliant! I love it. Do you come here often? Is the food any good? Because, I’m ravenous.”

  “Well, I love it, and the food is excellent!” I rejoiced and glanced at Taylor to give her an “I told you so” smile.

  While studying the menu, I found I’d lost my ability to read. That was a good sign. Generally it meant that I was attracted to my date and had other things on my mind. Fortunately, I’d eaten there enough that I could wing it.

  Liam asked, “Do you recommend anything in particular?”

  I leaned into him to look at the menu with him, but that proved too huge a distraction, so, in the end, I just made random suggestions. All I was aware of was the heat of his body and the delicious way he smelled. God, he was gorgeous. His wavy black hair just begged to be rumpled.

  I tilted my head up to look at him, and he quickly moved back a bit, looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Your hair smells incredible.”

  If I were six inches taller, we’d have been nose to nose. Instead, we locked eyes, and my dark brown eyes were in complete contrast to his clear green peepers.

  “You have the longest hair of anyone I’ve ever sat next to. I thought only mythical creatures could grow something so beautiful,” he continued.

  Feeling tongue-tied and giddy, I managed, “I love the lemon ginger shampoo from L’Occitane.”

  “I think I’ll need to buy some,” he said simply, but the glow in his eyes and gentle smile on his lips spoke volumes.

  My brain went into overdrive, wondering what he meant by that. Did he just like the shampoo? Was it an invitation to move in? Slow down! I thought to myself.

  Our quiet little tête-à-tête was broken by Marcus and Taylor. “Should we order a bottle of wine, or would you rather have a cocktail?”

  Eventually we decided to order two different bottles of wine. My only request was that it wasn’t Beaujolais, at which point Taylor gave me a little smile.

  After agreeing to the blind date, I’d dashed off a quick email to Taylor asking that she and Marcus not bring up the whole debacle with Des Bannerman. There was a fair chance that Liam already knew, but if he didn’t, I didn’t want to spend the evening discussing it.

  A bottle of Cabernet and another of Chardonnay were brought to the table, and, after all the song and dance was performed, we accepted them as our chosen two.

  Liam was pouring wine into my glass when he said, “So, I have one little question to ask you.” Between his physical appearance and gorgeous voice, he could have asked me to dance the Macarena on the table, and I would have been happy to comply.

  “What’s that?” I inquired and held my breath.

  “Do you really ‘recycle’ furniture so that you can support your shoe habit?”

  “Absolutely, and I’m not ashamed to say so!”

  He laughed, then looked down at my feet under the table and softly added, “Sexy shoes.” I blushed and had no idea what to say, so I picked up my wine glass and took a gulp. Knowing that he “liked” my shoes made me feel quite warm. I fanned myself with the wine list and giggled up at him.

  We made it through dinner with much teasing and blushing. Marcus and Taylor let us have a few quiet moments, but, for the most part, we were a boisterous quartet enjoying the night.

  “What should we do now?” Liam asked as we exited the restaurant.

  “Well, do you feel like going to a club? Our employer is hosting a party for our latest and greatest client at the Bourgeois Pig in the East Village. We could mingle, drink, and see which celebrities Yvette has managed to entice to the party,” Taylor offered as an option. It wasn’t my first choice, but when Liam and Marcus seemed interested, I went along with the group.

  The four of us piled into a cab and gave the driver the name of the club. We swerved, veered, careened, and eventually screeched to a stop near the club.

  “Bloody hell! We’re lucky to have made it alive,” Liam exclaimed once he was on the pavement. The three of us laughed; we’d become immune to the terrors of riding in a Manhattan cab.

  “I take it cab rides in Ireland are a lot more sedate than in New York City,” I mused.

  “Our cabbies tend to be a little less aggressive and a lot more entertaining,” Liam replied, as he watched the cab zoom off with another fare.

  “If you spend much time in the city, you’ll get used to it.”

  “I’m not sure I want to,” he said, a hint of lingering fear in his voice.

  Taylor had made her way toward the entry, and, since it was already close to midnight, the line to get in was fairly long.

  The young, beautiful, and well-dressed were lounging out front, trying to look bored rather than eager. Taylor was well known to the bouncer, since Faith Clarkson & Co. had used the Bourgeois Pig many times before. Vince, a handsome Italian-American with muscles to spare, let us past the velvet ropes. In we went.

  The room was bustling with scantily-dressed women serving the cocktails for which the club was known, the Bordello Special and the Gogol Bordello. Seeing the fruity cocktails, Liam raised an eyebrow and inquired whether there were other, more manly beverages to be found.

  “I’ll take you to the bar,” I offered, “and you can look at the menu. It’s huge. I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”

  “Well, that I’ve already done. I’d follow you anywhere, and, if it leads me to a lager, I’ll be the happiest man on Earth,” he said, taking my hand. Looking up and surveying the situation, he said, “Seeing as you’re a wee bitty thing, I’d better go in front. You’re too short for the barman to see.” He smiled down at me, tightened his grip on my hand, and leaned down. “I’m very glad that it was me and not someone else who was sent here. I’d hate to think of you holding Edele’s hand.”

  “Me, too,” I replied with a laugh.

  “Off to find nourishment,” he declared, and so we went.

  A few beers and much palavering later, I excused myself from Liam’s well-maintained side and made my way to the ladies’ room. I was finishing up in the stall when the outer door opened.

  “Did you see him? I swear that has to be Des Bannerman. Who else could it b
e?” asked the unknown voice.

  Instantly, my hands started to shake so badly I could barely organize my clothes.

  The two women continued to chat about Des as they fixed their makeup. “He really is gorgeous. Did you get close enough to see those blue eyes? You know that movie he was in a few years ago, Deadly Blue? Do you think it was because of his eyes? I wonder if he’s alone.”

  “Mental giants!” I muttered to myself. At the time of that film, I had loved Des Bannerman. While he was doing the promos for Deadly Blue, every TV talk show host had asked him that question. I thought about his interview with Dallin Jones, on The Late Show. Obviously tired of the question, he had appeared on The Late Show wearing brown contacts. David made a great show of using his pen to strike a question off the list. “Guess I won’t be asking that,” he’d quipped. Des’s broad grin had filled the camera when it zoomed in on him.

  Shaking off the past, I finally gathered enough courage to exit the stall and approach the sink. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw what I feared. Instead of the happy, relaxed, and flirty person who had entered, I saw a scared, pale, fragile-looking creature staring back at me.

  I pulled my cell from my purse and dialed Taylor’s number. “Hello?” came her voice above all the background noise from the club.

  “Come to the restroom, NOW!” My two companions were clearly used to odd things, because they didn’t stop applying their lip gloss when I shouted into the phone.

  Moments later, Taylor appeared, and the two women exited. Perhaps they were afraid, after all. “Listen, those two women who just left said that Des Bannerman is here. What am I going to do?” I asked frantically. “I can’t be here if he is!” And I don’t want Liam to see me get arrested. If he finds out, he’s going to think that I’m some kind of freakazoid stalker.”