Blonde and Fabulous

by anna snow

  I let the towel fall from my hair and grabbed my blow dryer from the small pink hook on the wall and blasted my hair. Once my blonde locks were dry, I piled them in loose ringlets on top of my head and secured them with crystal-tipped bobby pins. I kept my makeup fairly light but added an extra coat of lengthening mascara on my lashes. Then I finished the look off with a swipe of Tickled Pink lip gloss on my lips.

  I stepped into my tiny bedroom closet and pulled out my latest consignment shop find. A silver spaghetti strap dress with a low cut front that accentuated my "girls," and a short hemline that barely reached midthigh. The dress was backless with the exception of half a dozen thin crystal-adorned silver chains that dangled low toward my hips. Consignment shops in L.A. could be amazing if you knew which ones to hit. Most of my closet consisted of gently used finds. I had a bit of a shopping habit, but as long as it was in secondhand stores, it was a habit I could afford to indulge in.

  I applied a thin layer of my favorite Virgin Mint Mojito body butter then slid the dress on over my head, secured some areas with lingerie tape just to be safe, and topped the ensemble off with a pair of matching silver stiletto heels and an electric pink sequined clutch for a pop of color.

  With one final look in the full-length mirror, I grinned. I was going for sex kitten, and I think I succeeded. This dress was sure to make Felix sweat. I grinned at the thought.

  While our relationship was flirting with the exclusive territory, the one thing that had me second-guessing our status was a distinct lack of overnight visits. We'd been seeing each other for a few months now, and the grand total of times he'd spent the night was three. That's it. Just three. I'm not some sex-crazed maniac or anything, but I read Cosmo—I knew that was not normal. Not that I had any complaints about the glorious three times. And I guessed there was something to be said for taking it slow. But some days I felt like I was in a relationship with a nun.

  I slid on a silver cuff bracelet, a long silver necklace with a teardrop shaped pink faux sapphire that dangled between my breasts, and matching dangling earrings. I dared Felix to resist me tonight.

  Mr. Fluffykins hopped up onto the bed and stretched out to watch me.

  I glanced over at him. "What do you think?" I asked and spun in a circle.

  He meowed and rolled over onto his back.

  "What a lot of help you are." I laughed.

  The doorbell rang. A quick look at the bedside clock told me Felix was early. As usual.

  "Be good." I pointed at Mr. Fluffykins and hurried into the living room. With a deep breath, I opened the door.

  Felix stood on my porch. I watched as his eyes did a quick head to toe. He must have liked what he saw, because the corner of his mouth quirked upward, along with one perfectly arched eyebrow.

  "Something wrong?" I asked.

  "On the contrary," he said, the other corner lifting up in a true smile. "You look amazing, love." He stepped forward, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pressed his lips to mine in a quick kiss. "That dress." He grinned and shook his head.

  "Do you like it?" His palm heated the skin of my lower back where it rested.

  "Like isn't a strong enough word." He winked. "Are you ready to go?"

  "All set. I just need to lock up."

  I closed and locked the door behind us and dropped my keys into my clutch. I said a silent prayer about our transportation for the night as I followed him down the steps.

  Felix normally drove an old beat-up junker that had seen better days. And those better days were back when people were still doing the Macarena. The last time I'd ridden in it, the seat belt had snapped, and I'd almost fallen out the rusted passenger door when he'd taken a quick left. I had no idea why he hadn't ditched the bucket of bolts for a newer model a long time ago. The truth was he could more than afford it.

  Felix was what one would call a cheap rich man. Not only did he make a decent salary as the editor in chief of the Informer, but his family was old money. I'd even heard a rumor or two around the newsroom that he was titled gentry back in England and distantly related to the queen. Despite that, he lived a frugal lifestyle—drove an old car, wore off-the-rack (and I sometimes suspected that was the clearance rack), and rarely carried more than $20 in his wallet.

  I must have made enough of a fuss over his duct-taped seats damaging my Valentino gown when we'd covered a recent red carpet event that he'd taken note, because the last time we'd gone to a nice dinner, Felix had miraculously sprung for a car service, allowing us to arrive in appropriate style. I mentally crossed my fingers and chanted a "please, please, please," hoping for a repeat of that experience (and not the junker one) as we descended the stairs.

  I peeked around the corner of the building and spotted the black town car waiting at the curb. Yes! Not that I was superficial, but I did want to make it to dinner alive.

  When we reached the car, he opened the door for me before sliding in beside me.

  The driver pulled away from my building, and we were on our way.

  "Where are we going tonight?" I asked, secretly hoping it would be somewhere private, romantic, and delicious. All I'd had since breakfast were the mini muffins and a chocolate shake.

  "I made a dinner reservation at Beverly's. I hope that's all right."

  I shot him a look. "Purely coincidence that's where Baxter had his fight?"

  He turned his face to the window so I couldn't see his expression. "You know I don't believe in coincidence."

  I narrowed my eyes at the back of his head. "So, this is a working dinner then? Not a date?"

  He turned toward me, a charming smile in place. "There's no reason it can't be business and pleasure."

  It didn't escape my notice that he was talking to my cleavage. Which, in this case, I didn't completely mind.

  "Fine. But I'm totally ordering the lobster now."

  I thought I saw him cringe at the thought of the expense, but he quickly covered it with a peck on my cheek. "Anything for you, love."

  "I'll keep that in mind for later," I mumbled.

  "What was that?"

  "Nothing." I shot him a big toothy smile.

  While the thought of lobster at Beverly's was making my stomach rumble, it wasn't my first choice for a romantic evening out. Beverley's was the type of place people went to see and be seen. So while I had a good chance at catching a glimpse of my fantasy crushes, the chance of a quiet romantic dinner was slight. Especially since I knew Felix had the Baxter story on the mind—which likely meant paying off waitstaff for any dirt he could get them to spill.

  "So what happened to the interview?" Felix asked, as if he could read my mind.

  I sighed. "Did you know Bobby Baxter was a class A diva?"

  Felix shook his head. "No. I know he's had a few scuffles with the paparazzi, but nothing out of the ordinary. Why? What happened?"

  I told Felix about how I'd shown up on set to watch the taping of Bobby Tells All, how Bobby was a total jerk to everyone who crossed his path, and how he'd had a tantrum and stormed off the set.

  "His assistant promised me an interview in the morning."

  "Well, let's hope Bobby keeps his word this time. I'd hate for you to waste another day on his nonsense. If you can't get the interview in the morning, then come back to the office. You can write a piece on how he stood you up, how he behaved on set, or something along those lines."

  "Not exactly the same as an exclusive," I said.

  He shrugged and smiled. "We could always make something up."

  We both chuckled at his joke. (At least, I was pretty sure he was joking.)

  Thin laugh lines fanned out at the corners of his eyes, and I had the urge to lean over and kiss them. But I controlled myself. Instead, I placed my hand on his and enjoyed his easy company until we arrived at the restaurant.

  * * *

  I'd lived in Southern California all of my life, but I never failed to be a bit starstruck when out for a night on the town. There was a clash of realities when walking through
a crowded restaurant and bumping into the likes of Julia Roberts and Jennifer Lawrence—people who normally greeted me from my TV screen. As our car pulled up outside Beverly's main entrance, I couldn't help but crane my head to see if anyone interesting was hanging around outside. Unfortunately, all I saw were a few members of the paparazzi, smoking and leaning against the building, cameras in hand in case anyone noteworthy pulled up. They jumped to attention when we exited our car, cameras poised…until they realized we were no one of importance. Still, I felt more than one set of eyes on my back as we walked through the doors.

  "Felix Dunn. We have an eight thirty reservation." Felix gave his name to the maître d' at a slick black podium.

  The gentleman flicked his fingers across a tablet and smiled. "Of course, Mr. Dunn," he said in the most fake French accent I'd ever heard. If this guy was an actor, he needed a few more lessons. "The hostess will seat you." He held open a second set of double glass doors and allowed us to enter.

  The inside of Beverly's was absolutely beautiful with all the latest modern touches—chrome and glass décor, big dishes with tiny portions of food that looked like they were plated by Jackson Pollock, and servers-slash-wannabe-actors whose pretentiousness was only rivaled by the patrons.

  After the hostess checked her list and led us to our table, I spotted someone Felix and I both knew seated at the bar. Informer photographer and paparazzo extraordinaire, Cameron Dakota, and her current boy toy, movie star Trace Brody.

  Trace was one of the most drool-worthy action stars on the big screen at the moment, and he and Cam were just a couple more hot dates away from getting their own celebrity nickname—like Tram or Cace. If I didn't know he was Cam's, I'd be sorely tempted to go chat him up myself. Purely for story fodder, of course. But Cam wasn't a slouch in the looks department herself, standing close to six feet tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes of her own, a rocking body, and legs that went on for days. She'd started her career as a model, only stepping behind the camera when she'd had enough of being the "body."

  There were times my petite self envied Cam's supermodel height. I also envied the fact that everyone at the paper liked her and no one ever tried to scoop her stories…the same I could not always say for myself.

  "Is that Cam?" Felix asked, spotting the couple as well.

  I nodded. "And Trace."

  "Trace Brody?" Felix perked up. "Let's go say hello."

  I shot him a look. "Say hello—yes. Nose out something on Trace to print tomorrow—no."

  Felix put a hand over his heart and gave me a look of mock horror. "Who, me? Never."

  I grinned. "Right." But I followed him to the bar anyway.

  "Here comes trouble," Cam said cheerfully and raised her glass toward us in greeting. "What are you two up to tonight?"

  "Just having a little dinner," I answered quickly before Felix could mention Baxter. Hey, if he had to work a story while we were out, it was going to be my story. "How about the two of you?" I asked.

  "The same," Cam said lightly.

  "It's good to see you, Allie. Felix." Trace stood and kissed me on the cheek, shook Felix's hand, then retook his seat next to Cam.

  "You just get here?" Cam asked.

  I nodded.

  "Try the baked ziti. It's to die for tonight." Cam laughed and laid her hand on my arm momentarily. I glanced at her champagne glass. Empty. I wondered if they were celebrating something tonight.

  "Thanks, but I've got my sights set on the lobster." I winked at Felix. He pretended not to notice.

  "You come here often, Trace?" Felix asked casually.

  Too casually.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. What was he up to?

  "Oh, yeah. All the time," Trace replied. "Of course, I still have to deal with the paparazzi buzzing around." He tilted his head toward Cam.

  "Funny, smart guy." Cam whacked him playfully on his arm. "No camera tonight, see?" She held her empty hands up.

  "You didn't happen to be here the other night when Bobby Baxter was arrested, did you?" Felix asked.

  There it was. I barely contained the urge to roll my eyes.

  Luckily for him, Trace shook his head. "No, but from what I understand, it was quite the scene."

  "I imagine it was," I said, shooting Felix a look. Ix-nay on interrogating our iends-fray.

  He must have seen it, as he put on his charming smile again. "Well, we'll let you enjoy your evening. It was good to see you again, Trace."

  "Take it easy you guys," Trace said as we turned to walk away.

  I gave a small wave to Cam and Trace and let Felix lead me back to our table. The comforting heat from his palm seeped into my skin at the small of my back, making me instantly forgive his nosey nature. Let's face it, who was I to judge?

  He pulled out my chair, and I sat. He then took his seat, leaned back in his chair, and raised one eyebrow at me.

  "What?"

  "Like you wouldn't have asked Trace about Baxter?"

  I laughed. "Okay, fine. Yes, I totally would have."

  He grinned. "I know. Which is why I love you so much."

  I felt myself blush and covered it by picking up my menu. His tone was teasing, which left me with a funny feeling of giddiness and self-doubt at the words. I tried to brush it off as I scanned the wine list.

  A few minutes later the waitress came by and took our orders. I decided to take pity on Felix and go for the baked ziti, on Cam's recommendation. Felix went with the chicken parmesan. Both were delicious. I knew because Felix fed me bites of his meal across the candlelit table. Despite being in the middle of one of Hollywood's busiest restaurants, I had to admit it was kind of romantic after all. The romance was only interrupted at brief intervals when Felix pumped the passing waitstaff for info about what they may have seen the night Baxter was arrested. I couldn't blame him, because he was right—I'd have done the same thing if he hadn't done it first. Unfortunately, no one had any new information to add to the bare bones we already knew. Fortunately, the wine was warming, the meal indulgent, and the company witty and hot enough that by the end of the meal, I was really hoping the business part of our evening was over and we could get to the pleasure.

  "That was a lovely meal," I told Felix, snuggling against his arm outside as we waited for our driver.

  "I agree. And the company wasn't bad either." He grinned down at me, and my knees melted a little.

  "And the wine was divine."

  He grinned again. "I noticed you enjoyed it."

  I swatted him playfully on the arm. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Nothing. I just might have liked a taste."

  I swatted him harder this time, and he laughed in response, clearly enjoying the rise he was getting out of me. Okay, so maybe I had drunk a bit more than my fair share of the bottle. I was young, in a hot dress, and with a gorgeous man on my arm. Why not have a little fun?

  "Well, I tell you what," I said, going back in for the snuggle as our car came into view. "I have another bottle at home that's almost as good. I'm happy to share it with you."

  Felix gave me a brief smile but didn't answer as our car pulled up and he helped me in.

  Hmmm…not exactly encouraging. Okay, maybe he hadn't gotten my hint. I tried again as we pulled away from the curb.

  "Or, if you'd rather, we can go to your place?"

  Again with the brief smile. Maybe even briefer this time. "I don't want to keep you out too late."

  Translation: I don't want you to stay over?

  I gave myself a mental shake, telling myself I was reading too much into it. I pulled out what I hoped was my most seductive smile, leaning toward him until the thin strap of my dress fell down my shoulder ever so slightly. "We could just stay in at my place tonight then."

  This time his smile was not only brief, but it held a touch of something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I prayed it wasn't pity.

  "I'd love to, Allie, but I have a long day tomorrow, and you have that interview with Baxter in the morning.
How about a rain check?"

  I blinked at him. Was he serious? I was in the hottest dress known to man, he'd just said he'd loved me at dinner (okay, I was pretty sure that had been teasing levity, but still!), and I was practically throwing myself at him after admittedly drinking a bit too much wine. If he was looking for an opening to take me to bed, there wasn't going to be a better one.

  "Sure. Rain check." I tried to sound understanding as I adjusted my shoulder strap, but in all honestly, I didn't understand at all. A horrible thought occurred to me. Was Felix losing interest?

  The rest of the car ride back to my place was quiet. Felix held my hand but barely said half a dozen words the entire time. The car pulled up outside my apartment building, we got out, and Felix walked me to my door.

  "I'll see you tomorrow after your interview. Sleep well, Allie."

  Felix leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. Then he turned on his heel and walked back to the car before I could respond.

  I closed my apartment door and locked it behind me, watching out of the side window as the car pulled away and disappeared out of sight.

  Mr. Fluffykins meowed and wound himself around my legs. I bent down and scooped him up into my arms.

  "I have no idea what his deal is," I confided to my furry pal as I carried him down the hall and sat him on the bed. On a normal day, I might have kicked him out to the living room to sleep on his pink pillow bed. But tonight I needed the extra snuggles, even if they were feline.

  With a sigh, I kicked my shoes off and slid the dress off, letting it pool on the floor. My top dresser drawer was partially open, and my sky blue pajamas with little sheep on them were poking out. I grabbed them, pulled them on, and climbed into bed.