by Jae
It finally dawned on Lauren why Mrs. Duvenbeck wanted her to plan the party instead of doing it herself—Lauren had better connections to all the right media people. I can’t believe that she seriously wants to turn her daughter’s birthday party into a promo event.
“I’ll leave the choice of venue and food up to you, but please make sure that no alcohol will be served,” Mrs. Duvenbeck continued.
Well, at least she had that much consideration for her daughter. “I’ll make sure of it.”
When Lauren didn’t question the reason behind the order, Mrs. Duvenbeck noticeably paused, probably astonished that her daughter had trusted Lauren with that secret. “One more thing,” she finally said. “It might be better not to invite Jill Corrigan.”
“What?” Lauren thought she hadn’t heard correctly. “Why? As far as I know, she’s Grace’s best friend, so why wouldn’t we invite her?”
“You should know better than anyone that it’s not in my daughter’s best interest to be seen with Jill all the time,” Mrs. Duvenbeck said, her voice as cold and cutting as steel.
“Mrs. Duvenbeck—”
“I expect you to honor my wishes.”
Before Lauren could think of a reply that wouldn’t put her job at risk, Mrs. Duvenbeck said good-bye and ended the call.
Lauren smashed her fist onto the desk, making her pens rattle in their holder. “Goddamn bitch!”
A gentle knock on the door interrupted her cursing.
“What!”
The door was opened, and Grace peeked into the room. “Um, is this a bad time? I thought I’d drop by to see the posters you were talking about, but it sounds like this might not be the best time.”
Lauren’s anger subsided. “No, it’s fine. Come on in. Sorry you had to hear that.”
“Don’t worry. I heard it all before. When they have to do thirty takes in the pouring rain, even the most well-bred actors start to curse like sailors.” Grace smiled as she walked toward Lauren, casually dressed in a pair of formfitting black jeans and a sleeveless cream top. “But maybe I should have brought muffins. That sounded like you’re not having the best of days.”
It just got a lot better. At the mention of doing thirty takes in the pouring rain, Lauren’s mind flashed to the poster of Grace in the nearly see-through wet dress. She gave herself a mental slap and got up from behind her desk. “No, I think I should lay off the muffins. They go right to my hips.” She patted the body parts in question.
Grace’s gaze swept down her body and then back up to her face. “Nonsense. You look fine.”
Lauren blinked. Heat crept up her chest. Did she just check me out? She imperceptibly shook her head at herself. Even straight women could look at other women. It didn’t mean a thing. “Come on. I’ll show you the posters.”
At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the guest list for the party while Grace was here.
Sometimes, Grace thought that her mother must have cameras installed in her living room. Every time she sat down to read one of the scripts George had sent her, her mother showed up or called. Sighing, she put the script aside and answered the phone.
“Are you doing anything important?” her mother asked.
“Reading a script.”
“Oh, good. Then I’ll pick you up in half an hour. We’re going shopping.”
Grace groaned. “Shopping? Now?”
“Yes. I saw this exquisite dress in one of the boutiques on Rodeo Drive. It will look marvelous on you.”
Rodeo Drive meant the paparazzi would be there within seconds, following them from store to store. “Mom, I’ve got two closets full of dresses. I don’t need a new one.”
“Trust me, you do,” her mother said firmly.
Something about her tone made Grace suspicious. Why would she need a new dress even though the premiere of Ava’s Heart was still nearly eight weeks away? “You’re not planning on throwing me a birthday party, are you?”
“What would make you think that?”
Grace switched the phone to her other ear. “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you want me to buy a new dress? Or that you’re answering a question with another question?”
“Can’t I want to spend a nice afternoon shopping with my daughter? I miss spending time with you.”
Shopping on Rodeo Drive with a horde of paparazzi following them around wasn’t Grace’s idea of a nice afternoon, but she had to admit that she hadn’t spent much time with her mother lately. “All right. We’ll go shopping. But you’ve got to promise me, no party.” While she appreciated the effort her mother put into planning parties for her, Grace knew she’d have to attend countless parties and red-carpet events to promote her movie very soon. She didn’t want to spend her birthday holding on to a glass of champagne that she couldn’t drink, making small talk with the movers and shakers of the entertainment industry. “Please, Mom.”
“All right. I promise that I won’t plan a party. Happy now?”
“Yes. Thanks, Mom. See you in half an hour.” Grace got up and went to get her credit card.
Lauren sat at her desk, clicking through possible venues for Grace’s birthday party. They were all equally luxurious, impressive, and high-priced. Any of these Michelin-starred restaurants and glamorous ballrooms would probably make Mrs. Duvenbeck happy, but Lauren kept hesitating. Was this really how Grace would want to spend her birthday, a milestone birthday no less?
When the phone rang, she bookmarked the websites and accepted the call. “Chandler & Troy Publicity, Lauren Pearce speaking.”
“Do you ever sleep or go home?” Jill’s cheerful voice came through the phone.
Lauren glanced at the clock in the task bar of her computer and realized that it was after nine. “Every once in a while, when you Hollywood stars don’t keep me too busy.” She swished her chair from side to side. “How are you doing? You sound good.”
“Thanks. I am. No complaints at the moment. Well, maybe one,” Jill said. “I hear there’s going to be a surprise party for Grace, and I have no idea what to get her for her birthday.”
Lauren froze mid-swivel. “Where did you hear that?”
“Russ told me,” Jill said.
Thanks a lot. Now she had a problem. Of course Jill assumed she was invited, and Lauren had to find a way to politely uninvite her. She felt like such a traitor. Jill didn’t deserve this. “Sorry,” she said lamely, “but I have no idea what to get her for her birthday either.”
“Actually, I do have an idea. Instead of a present, how about we throw her a party she’ll never forget?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Jill made a tsking noise with her tongue. “Not one of those awful parties her mother usually throws for her.”
“Grace doesn’t like them?”
“She hates them!”
Lauren stared at the open tabs on her computer screen. “She does?”
“Oh yeah. For once, I would like her to have a party that is really for her, not for publicity’s sake. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Me? I hate to point it out, but I’m the publicity gal.”
“Yes, but you’re also the person who’s putting together this year’s party, right?”
“Uh, yes. But—”
“I have a fun idea for where to have the party.” Jill’s enthusiasm was unstoppable. “It’s a bit crazy, but…well, it’s been a crazy year, so maybe it fits. I think Grace will love it.”
Lauren’s gaze lingered on the gourmet restaurant on her screen, which had been her top choice so far. Now was the moment when she had to tell Jill that she had already put together a plan for the party—and that she wasn’t on the guest list. But then a mental image of Grace’s face as she bit into the hot dog flashed through her mind. She still vividly reme
mbered how much Grace had enjoyed such an ordinary thing, probably because she didn’t get to experience it very often.
Her middle finger hovered over the right mouse button. Two clicks and she would delete the bookmarks for the restaurant and hotel websites. No, don’t do it. That’s career hara-kiri.
“Lauren? Are you still there?”
To hell with it. This was Grace’s birthday, not Katherine’s. She deleted the bookmarks and closed her browser. “I’m listening.”
CHAPTER 14
Lauren wiped one clammy palm on her slacks as she walked up the stairs to Grace’s home, her other hand clutching the gift basket she carried. She hadn’t been this nervous since her first date. Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous. This is not a date.
It was Grace’s birthday—and the day Lauren figured she had a good chance of getting fired. Maybe she did have reason to be nervous. She squared her shoulders and rang the doorbell. Seconds ticked by slowly while she waited, basket in hand.
Finally, the door was opened.
Instead of Grace, Katherine Duvenbeck stood before her. “Is everything ready?” she whispered.
Lauren nodded. “Everything’s ready.” Just not the way you wanted. Mrs. Duvenbeck would find that out soon enough, but Lauren wasn’t in a hurry to reveal it.
Grace appeared behind her mother. “Lauren? I thought we wanted to meet at your office for the interview?”
“Yeah, well, I wanted to say happy birthday without the media around. And I wanted to give you this.” Feeling a little awkward under Mrs. Duvenbeck’s watchful eyes, Lauren thrust the basket at her.
“Oh. That’s so nice of you. Thank you.” Grace took the basket, studied the assortment of fruit, chocolate, jams, and jellies, and laughed at the bright streamers and the helium birthday balloon tied to the basket’s handle. “This is great. Thank you. Come on in.”
Lauren followed her into the living room, where a floral scent greeted her.
A sea of bouquets covered almost every available surface of the room—roses, orchids, and other flowers, all of them looking expensive.
Lauren began to think bringing Grace a gift basket had been a bad idea. The balloon in particular might make it look a little juvenile next to the classy bouquets. Well, too late. She ran her empty hands down the outer seams of her slacks.
But then Grace touched her arm and sent her a smile. “I love the balloon. My father got me some of those every year for my birthday.”
Was Grace just saying that to make her feel better? Lauren couldn’t tell. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I do.”
Lauren returned her smile and relaxed, finally deciding that Grace genuinely liked her gift basket. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” Grace said quietly.
Their gazes met and held.
Mrs. Duvenbeck pushed between them and eyed the gift basket. “Do you have any idea how many calories these things are?”
“Mom, please. Not today.”
“Whatever.” Mrs. Duvenbeck waved one manicured hand. “Let me put the chocolates in the fridge while you go change into something more elegant.”
Lauren turned away, pretending to inspect the flowers Grace had gotten. If this was how Mrs. Duvenbeck treated her now, she didn’t want to even imagine what would happen once she found out what kind of party Lauren had put together. It would truly be a surprise party—and not just for Grace.
Grace started to smell a rat when her mother told her for the third time she had to change into something more elegant. “I think slacks and a blouse are just fine. It’s an interview with a local newspaper, not an official reception with the president. Right, Lauren?” She looked over at her publicist, who was wearing similar attire.
“Uh…”
What was going on with Lauren? She looked more nervous than Grace had ever seen her, even at the tense press conference.
“Trust me, darling,” her mother said, drawing Grace’s gaze back toward her. “You really want to change.”
Lauren cleared her throat. “Actually, what you’re wearing is just fine.”
“How can you say that? It’s not—”
“Trust me, Mrs. Duvenbeck,” Lauren said and glanced at her silver wristwatch. “We should be going.”
Grace followed her outside and raised her brows as she saw the limousine in her driveway. It seemed Lauren had decided she should travel to the interview in style, since it was her birthday. She didn’t protest when her mother climbed in after her, insisting on coming with her to the interview.
As the limousine navigated the curving roads and then the busy city streets, she quietly reflected on what a strange way to spend her birthday this was. Well, at least the interview would be over in an hour and she didn’t have to spend the entire rest of the day at a party. Sometimes, playing the role of Grace Durand could be tiring.
She spent the half-hour ride mentally going over each question the reporter could possibly ask. It took her a few minutes to realize they had already passed Lauren’s office in Westwood, where they were supposed to meet the reporter, and were heading toward Santa Monica. “Uh, Lauren…”
Lauren grinned over at her. “Don’t worry. Just a little change of plans.”
Grace’s head sank against the backrest. “Let me guess. There is no reporter waiting for us.”
“Oh, yes, there is,” Lauren said, still grinning. “Several of them, actually.”
Damn. So her mother had put together a party and invited the press after all. Somehow, she’d even roped Lauren into helping.
“Don’t worry,” Lauren said quietly. “You’ll like it.” She glanced at Grace’s mother. “I think.”
As the driver turned left onto Colorado Avenue and headed toward the Santa Monica Pier, Lauren nervously shifted on the leather seat.
The limousine approached one of the expensive seafood restaurants. Mrs. Duvenbeck stopped complaining about her daughter dressing so casually and gave Lauren a grudging nod, apparently thinking that was where the party would be held.
But the limo continued on, passing the restaurant and also another one on the pier, famous for its lobster bisque.
“Where on God’s green earth are we going?”
“Just a little farther,” Lauren said.
“Farther?” Mrs. Duvenbeck screeched. “But there’s nothing but the ocean!”
The limousine crossed the bridge and rumbled over the boardwalk.
“Actually, there is.”
The driver pulled the limousine to a stop in front of a metal barricade.
“We’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” Lauren said. “It’s just a few steps.” She led Grace and a grumbling Mrs. Duvenbeck toward a building directly on the pier. Security guards blocked the entrance, but they quickly stepped back when they realized who was approaching. Lauren pulled Grace inside before she could stop to ask questions.
Three dozen people jumped out from behind video game machines, air hockey tables, pinball machines, and a shooting gallery, loudly shouting, “Surprise!”
Grace jumped and pressed both hands to her chest. “Oh my God! You’re throwing me a birthday party at an arcade?” she shouted over the chaos toward her mother.
Stiffly gripping her purse, Mrs. Duvenbeck glared at Lauren. “I certainly did not!”
Grace looked at her too. “You did this?”
A lump in her throat prevented Lauren from speaking, so she just nodded. She nearly tipped over when she suddenly found herself with an armful of Grace.
Laughing, Grace hugged her for all she was worth. “This is fantastic. Thank you!”
The subtle scent of Grace’s perfume made Lauren dizzy. Or maybe it was the feel of her curvaceous body pressed against hers. She didn’t want to examine that too closely. Very awar
e of all the people watching them, including Mrs. Duvenbeck and several members of the press, she awkwardly put one hand on Grace’s back. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it. There are some reporters here, but I made sure they’re the friendly, reputable kind. There are no video cameras, and they are only allowed to take photos for the first hour. After that, you can relax.”
“Thank you,” Grace said again and looked as if she wanted to say more, but then she was whisked away by her guests.
Grace’s laughter trailed after her, and Lauren couldn’t help grinning at the childlike glee.
“What on earth were you thinking?”
Mrs. Duvenbeck’s voice was like a bucket of ice-cold water, instantly dousing her joy. Slowly, Lauren turned around. She knew she was about to face one of the biggest battles of her career. “Well, you wanted me to pick the venue…so I did. It has all the requirements you wanted—there’s no alcohol being served, and I invited several reporters.”
“Don’t play innocent. You knew this isn’t what I wanted!” Mrs. Duvenbeck stomped one high-heeled foot.
“What about what Grace wants?” Lauren asked softly.
A flush rose up Mrs. Duvenbeck’s neck until Lauren thought steam was about to come out of her ears. “How dare you presume to know what my daughter wants? I’m her mother. I single-handedly raised her while you’ve barely known her for a month! I’m going to call your boss right now and tell her about this…this…” She swept her hand around, indicating the arcade. “This travesty!”
Lauren watched with gritted teeth as she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and pressed a few buttons. Figures that she’d have Marlene on speed dial. Her boss wouldn’t like this one bit.
The phone rang, and Mrs. Duvenbeck waited for Marlene to pick up, her triumphant gaze directed at Lauren.