by Wood, Vivian
I’m a pro at this part, smiling just past the cameras so they get a good shot as I waltz into the restaurant. After the photo blitz outside, the restaurant’s lobby is soothingly hushed.
“Miss Parsons?” the young hostess asks, her eyes shining with excitement. Clearly she’s been trained not to make a big deal over celebrities, but she’s as thrilled to meet me as most nineteen year old girls are.
“Yes, hi!” I say, brushing back a stray lock of hair that’s drifted down to my forehead.
“Right this way. Your party has already arrived,” she says, her smile big and bright, so full of potential.
“Sounds good,” I say with a wink. Her grin widens and she nods.
See? People love you, I tell myself.
She turns and leads me into a tastefully decorated dining room full of low, dark furniture surrounding gleaming ivory tables. The place is pretty full, but the tables are spaced few and far between for privacy. I follow her to a table placed under a grand chandelier.
The chef’s table, no doubt. My mother has never been shy about dropping my name to get any advantage that catches her eye.
And there’s the woman of the hour, rising from the table and brushing off her crisp white dress suit. Her hair is freshly dyed, the same dark color as mine, and her makeup is light and tasteful.
She looks… really put together. It’s almost a little shocking, after the other phases she’s gone through in the last few years. Crunchy granola yoga hippie, pageant mom, and reality star slash future rehab participant stand out, among them.
“Mom,” I say, keeping my expression neutral as she comes around the table to embrace me.
I forget sometimes that she’s so much shorter than me; her strong personality often makes her seem larger than life.
“Elliana!” she cries, giving me a brief hug before pulling back and looking me up and down. “I love this dress you’re wearing, you look fabulous.”
A compliment, right off the bat? Shit, she definitely wants something from me.
“You too, mom,” I say, trying to blink away my confusion. But the focus shifts off me immediately as a man stands up, doing up the button on his dark Armani suit. He’s dark haired, silvering at the temples. His expression is watchful, and for a moment I wonder if my mother has brought a lawyer to dinner, if she’s about to drop some huge crazy bombshell on me.
“Elliana, I’d like you to meet my new beau, Craig,” my mother says, ushering me over to the table.
“Elliana,” he says, giving me a little bow, like he’s accustomed to the Japanese style of greeting.
“Elly, please call me Elly,” I say, trying to size him up. “Um, new beau, did you say?”
“Here, let’s sit down,” my mom says, bringing me around to the seat she’s picked out for me.
The table is set for four, mom and Craig on one side, me on the other. Mom raises her big glass of white wine and uses it to gesture to the waiter. Craig waits for my mom and me to both be seated before taking his place and picking up his own wine glass.
“We’re drinking a really nice Chardonnay, Elly. Would you like a glass?” he offers.
Before I can answer, my mom jumps in.
“Elly’s diet doesn’t allow her to drink alcohol. Trying to stay trim for your upcoming tour, isn’t that right dear?”
I shoot her a quelling glance. If ever there’s been a moment when I deserved a glass of wine, this is it.
“Actually I will have a glass of wine,” I say to the waiter who’s appeared, lifting the bottle of white from the silver ice bucket to refill mom and Craig’s glasses. “Can I get a glass of pinot noir, please? Something nice.”
The waiter vanishes, leaving me to face my mom’s disapproving expression. I’ve more or less been on a diet since age 10, so this conversation is nothing new.
“So… how did you two meet?” I ask them, trying to change the subject.
“At a cooking class!” my mom says, brightening. “I was visiting your Aunt Emily in L.A. We both took the class, and we just… clicked.”
“I’m sorry… where?” I ask, looking between them with some confusion.
“An Italian cooking class,” Craig clarifies. “We were both learning to make risotto for the first time, if you can imagine.”
“That sounds… challenging,” I say, gladly accepting my glass of wine from the waiter. “Mom, I didn’t know you’d taken up cooking classes.”
I could have left off the classes bit. What I mean for her to hear is, Mom, I didn’t know you’d learned to cook. She certainly never made anything more than a dressing-free salad when I was growing up.
“Well, it’s important to expand one’s horizons. You know, give things a chance,” my mom says, giving me a pointed look.
“Mmm.” I sip my wine and look back and forth between the two of them. The pinot is fruity and refreshing, and oh so welcome.
“So, Elly, your mom has told me a lot about your career. It sounds like you’re doing really well,” Craig says. “You and I are in the same field, in a way.”
“Is that right?” I ask, wary.
“Well, I’m in entertainment law,” he says with a nod. “I’m the Gray in Howard Klein Gray out in LA.”
A name partner? My eyebrows can’t rise any higher. This conversation isn’t turning out at all like I expected, that’s for sure.
“Well, it’s nice to see mom’s dating someone who meets her, um, standards,” I say, trying to find a delicate way to say, I’m glad you’re not a complete loser. Usually mom picks the biggest assholes she can find, and she’s always so excited to introduce them to me a couple weeks into the so-called relationship…
“Well, thanks, I think,” Craig says with a chuckle. I start to relax a little, the few sips of wine working their unique brand of magic.
“How long have you been seeing each other?” I ask.
I look between my mom and Craig, and a skeptical part of me wonders just what she’s told him about her life, about me. What does a woman with no real job and no life prospects outside Mississippi have to offer a big shot lawyer from L.A.?
It’s not a very charitable thought, but there it is. It wouldn’t be the first time my mom dated someone who was more interested in linking themselves with my career than they were tying themselves permanently to my mom.
“Almost a year. Our anniversary is in a couple of days, actually,” Craig says, reaching over to cover mom’s hand with his own.
“You’ve dated for a year?” I cry, a little too loud. Heads turn at nearby tables, and I sink a little lower in my chair.
“Well, we were long distance for most of that, of course,” Craig says.
My mouth forms an O as I turn and pin my mother with a furious gaze.
“Were? Were long distance?” I say, setting my wine glass down with a clank.
“I only just settled in at Craig’s place in L.A.,” my mother says, giving a dismissive little wave of her hand.
“Well, three months, give or take,” Craig says, giving her a look.
My mom shrugs and sips her wine.
“You didn’t think that maybe I’d like to know that you moved across the country?” I ask, crossing my arms. “Or that you were seeing someone, that you were pretty serious?”
“I tried to get her to tell you before today,” Craig says, shifting in his seat. “She’s very stubborn, your mom.”
“No shit,” I say. The waiter comes over with a stack of menus and I take one, gladly burying my face behind the stiff board and scanning the salad selection.
“Elliana,” my mom says.
“Just leave it,” I snap, not looking up. “I promise, I’m only looking at the salads. Or do you have something else you’d like to dump on me all the sudden?”
“Elly, put down the menu,” my mom says, grabbing it from my hands.
I’m about to go completely nuclear, to stand up and scream at my mom in front of her new boyfriend and a whole restaurant full of people. I’m about to make Brad and
the other Ravens wish to god they’d insisted on coming to dinner with me, because some really, really heavy shit is about to go down.
Except…
I stare right up at the most gorgeous fucking guy I’ve ever seen in my whole life, standing over me and looking at me with a perplexed frown. He’s tall and built, at least a foot taller than my 5’2” stature. Gorgeous green eyes, dark blond hair, built like a wrestler ran into a Mack truck.
Damn.
“Connor,” Craig says, standing and clearing his throat.
My mom stands up too, reaching over and shaking the guy’s hand, her greeting easy and familiar. I lurch to my feet when the guy sticks his hand out for me to shake.
“You,” I whisper, so low that only he can hear me.
No doubt about it. It’s the guy from the crowd, the guard who grabbed me and protected me right after my attack.
He recognizes me, I can see it in his eyes. Still, he doesn’t say anything or acknowledge that we know each other.
Well, know might be a strong word for it.
Still.
My hand clasps his, and this electric shiver skims down my spine. My eyes eat up his tight-fitted dark suit and I can’t help but notice the dark whorls of ink peeking out against the cuffs and neck of his starched white dress shirt. I bite my lip, instantly wishing more than anything that I could see more of those tats.
There’s something magnetic about this guy, and I wonder how my mom found him, the man who basically saved me just a couple days ago.
Why aren’t we talking about how he saved my life?
Craig and my mom are yammering but I’m not listening. Instead, I’m locking gazes with this huge badass dude, trying not to go to pieces over the perfect line of his jaw and the monster size of his hands and feet.
Seriously though, damn.
“—my son.”
“Hmm?” I say, finally managing to pull my hand back from Mr. Muscle.
“This is Connor Gray, my son?” Craig says. His tone indicates that this isn’t the first time he’s explained that, either.
“And my daughter Elly,” my mom jumps in, coming around the table to pat Connor on the arm.
“So you’re Elly Parsons?” he asks. His voice is low and gravelly as he gives me an unimpressed once-over.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, my mouth pulling down into a frown. “You were expecting someone else?”
“Let’s sit down, shall we,” my mom says, an anxious smile plastered on her face.
My mom and Craig retake their seats, and to my surprise Connor helps me into mine before sitting down.
“I thought you’d be taller,” he says with shrug.
I scowl, the spell he cast now broken. What is he playing at?
“I didn’t know you or your father existed, so…” I pick up my wine glass and take a big, healthy gulp. “I guess we’re all getting surprised today, huh?”
“Elly,” my mother warns.
“You two have obviously met before,” I say, pointing between my mom and Connor. He nods, but my mom just looks stiff and miserable.
“So… cool. This is nice, huh? Everyone hangs out together in L.A. And you all just dropped in on me at once, as a surprise,” I say, finishing the last sip of my wine.
“I’m here on business, actually…” Connor starts. “This isn’t really how I wanted to introduce myself, but—”
“Oh my god,” I say, cutting him off. “Please, please don’t tell me that you two,” I point to him and his father, “the entertainment lawyer and the… whatever you are, guy, you two have cooked up some kind of plan to ride the Elly Parsons train?”
Both men give me a genuinely horrified, offended expression, but I can’t stop now. I’ve been on edge since I stepped foot in this restaurant, and everyone is being so fucking weird and I’m just done with it.
“Did she come up with the plan and put you up to it?” I ask, pointing at my mother. I’m not even trying to keep my voice down now, I’m way too far gone for that.
“Did you run out of wannabe starlets to manage the way you managed me, Mom? Or maybe they got tired of you putting them on endless diets, constantly telling them that they don’t measure up. God knows I did.”
“Elly, you are embarrassing me,” my mom says, her cheeks flushing with anger.
“You’ve got this all wrong,” Craig says, shaking his head. “Let’s just all calm down and talk this through. This is supposed to be a big night for your mom and I, announcing—”
He cuts himself off, and it takes a second for things to click in my head.
Announcing that they’re getting married.
I glance at Connor, and even he looks a little surprised at that part. Still, he seems unruffled, and for some reason that’s the last straw for me. I’m getting more and more worked up. Bombshells dropping on me left and right, and here’s this fucking asshole sitting here like all’s well in his little world.
Fuck Connor Gray. He can take all that macho calm bullshit and stick it up his ass for all I care!
“Okay. Cool. You know what? I actually can’t do this right now,” I say, pushing back my chair and standing up. “I’ll have my assistant pay for the meal. Sorry you guys came all the way out here for nothing, but I’m done.”
“Elly,” my mom and Craig say as one. Everyone is on their feet, trying to keep me from leaving, but I’m already way ahead of them.
I head toward the hostess stand and snag the cute girl that brought me to the table earlier, curling my fingers around her wrist.
“Can you take me out the private exit?” I ask in a whisper.
Eyes wide, she nods, glancing at the table of people I’ve left behind.
“Let’s go,” I urge her, and we flee the dining room.
Through the kitchen, then a back storage room, out into a darkened alley.
“Thanks,” I say. “Do me a favor, please don’t tell the paparazzi about this?”
“Sure, okay,” she says, stopping at the back door.
“All right. Have a good night,” I say, making a mental note to have one of the Ravens send her a goody bag with some personalized Elly swag.
I leave her behind, following the alley out to a side street. I glance toward Le Forêt’s front door, see a couple of paps waiting with their cameras. I whirl and head the other direction, heedless of my uncomfortable heels and the fact that all I have on me is my black Amex card and a photo ID.
After a few blocks I hail a cab, giving a tired smile when the driver recognizes me and asks for an autograph for his niece.
“Can we just… drive around for a while?” I say when he asks for my destination. “Maybe go over the bridge and back? I’ll pay whatever you want.”
“Of course, of course,” he says, pulling out.
A tear slides down my cheek, though I don’t really feel sad. I don’t feel anything at all right now, actually. Maybe that’s the worst part.
I stare out the window, watching the New York City lights slip by as we pass, enjoying the idea that I’m just one more face in a city of millions. Alone, but not alone. It’s a relief, even though I know I have to go back to my life soon enough.
I know I’m fortunate. I know my life is mostly awesome, that I should be grateful. Tonight, I just want to be anonymous. No shitty family dinners, no surprises, no diets or workouts or tour plans.
For just this one hour, I can be free. I can just be me.
Chapter Four
Elly
Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam. The knocking on my door is loud and persistent, and it’s absolutely killing my head.
Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam.
I groan and shove back the comforter of my hotel bed, then force myself into an upright position. After my little taxi jaunt last night, I bought a bottle of cabernet at the hotel bar and brought it back up to my room. Where, of course, I proceeded to drink it all by myself.
The pounding on the door continues, matching the pounding in my head, and I propel myself up and toward the fr
ont door of my suite in an effort to just make it stop.
I fling the door open, a smart remark already out of my mouth before I bother to see who’s on the other side.
“Today is my one day off,” I grouse, thinking I’m complaining to Brad, or maybe one of the Jennifers.
Then I freeze in place, unable to do anything but stare at the person filling my hotel room doorframe.
Of all the people in the world to be standing there on the other side of the door…
“Connor Gray,” I blurt out, scrunching my face up before I can hide my reaction.
He quirks a brow, seeming amused by how put off I am. I eye him as he eyes me, a good old fashioned sizing-up on both sides.
He’s dressed down today in dark jeans, heavy boots, and a sinfully tight charcoal black t-shirt, but he’s every bit as devastating to the senses. Damn, from this close I can actually smell his aftershave, and it smells good. Crisp and clean, with the hint of masculine leather and engine oil underneath, like maybe he rode a motorcycle here.
What a ridiculous thought, I scold myself.
“What… why are you here? How did you know where I’m staying?” I ask, starting to feel a little creeped out. Even my mom doesn’t know where I’m staying, as far as I know.
“You just open the door like this for anybody?” Connor growls, taking a step toward me.
“No!” I say. I try to close the door on him, but his hand snaps out forcefully, slamming it back open.
“You sure about that? You didn’t even look through the peep hole,” he insists.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get the hell out of my hotel room!” I cry, tensing for a fight.
He looks at my posture, at the way I bring my hands up, preparing to defend myself.
“Krav maga?” he asks.
I give him a long glance, then nod and relax a little.
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he says. “Can I come in?”
“Uhhh…” I say, glancing down. I’m wearing skin-tight white sleep shorts and a clingy white tank top… and nothing underneath.
I feel so naked right now. Sure, I wear ridiculously revealing outfits all the time, especially when I’m performing onstage. But being in the close quarters of my hotel suite with this guy makes me feel risqué for some reason, even if we’re just standing in the living room.