Chapter 14
14
L ate in the afternoon on Thursday, an exhausted Sadie dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment and let herself in. She’d been tapped to run the catering for someone filming a scene at sunrise and had ended up with a double shift. Who knew one hundred people could drink that much coffee? Though, no doubt they’d needed it to wash down the mountains of donuts and breakfast sandwiches they’d also demolished.
Tossing her keys onto the kitchen counter, she sniffed at her hair and recoiled. Egg sandwich.
After her shower, she would resume the task that had consumed her thoughts since the previous Sunday—deciding what Grant’s final torture would be. Ronny needed to know the location within the next few hours in order to get the photographers lined up. But despite spending all her free time that week scouring event calendars, she was stumped.
He didn’t smoke, so she’d considered a Hookah bar, but she didn’t smoke either and didn’t want photos of herself all over social media with a pipe in her mouth. “Accidentally” getting him hopelessly lost and alone while going for a hike in the mountains had excited her for a whole day, until it dawned on her that there’d be no paparazzi to document his predicament. Scratch that. She knew from their theater days he had a nice voice, so karaoke was out. With her luck, video of him crooning out some fake love song to her before a drunken, spellbound crowd would earn him an impromptu Oscar.
Why was this man so hard to torture?
The guy exuded rainbows and happy, happy unicorns, and the universe responded in kind, that’s why.
Should she let this revenge scheme go? His past bad behaviors stank, but did they warrant all this energy on her part? She’d met worse people in her life, and all this devious plotting certainly made her feel worse.
As she stepped into the bathroom for her shower, someone rapped sharply on her front door.
Her shoulders slumped as if a cinderblock sat atop each one. She was way too tired for visitors. “What now?” she said aloud as she moved toward the door. “Whatever you’re selling, I’ve already got six.”
She reached for the knob, then remembered Monique’s constant lecturing about how single woman living alone couldn’t be too careful. She lifted up on her toes, intending to peer through the peephole, when the knock came again, louder this time.
“I know you’re in there. Let me in,” said a commanding voice.
Once again, Sadie would know that voice anywhere. She whipped open the door to see Julia dressed in a long, tan raincoat and oversized sunglasses. A pink scarf wrapped around her hair captured most, but not all, of her trademark curls. Even in disguise, she radiated glamour.
“Julia?” Sadie spluttered. Her world tilted, her eyes blinking faster than hummingbird’s wing beats. Upon her humble doorstep stood her lifelong idol.
“No, it's the Easter Bunny,” Julia said.
Everything Sadie had ever learned about hospitality fled her memory. She might as well have been raised by wolves for how long she stood there, staring.
Julia pursed her lips. “Well? Are you going to invite me in? It’s hot out here.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Sadie said. She stepped to the side, and Julia strode straight into Sadie’s one-bedroom apartment.
Julia stopped in front of her coffee table. “Shut that door. I don’t want to be seen.”
Sadie closed the door and turned around to see Julia removing her scarf and shoving it into her coat pocket. The Hollywood icon stared around at Sadie’s tiny living room. Most of Sadie’s furniture and accessories were either hand-me-downs or found at charity shops. Up till this moment, Sadie had liked the look—eclectic, colorful, shabby chic. But with Julia Menlo standing there in her designer everything, the embodiment of celebrity money and taste, Sadie couldn’t help but see her apartment through Julia’s perfectly eyelinered eyes—heavy on shabby, light on chic.
“My place isn’t much,” Sadie said.
Julia shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t worry. I used to live this way too. I just need a moment to...” After looking around for a few more seconds, she plucked a yellow pillow from Sadie’s sofa and set it on the nearby armchair instead. “There. That’s better.”
And now I’ll never move that pillow again .
After a second short pause, Julia looked straight at her, jaw muscles taut. “This is the part where you ask me to sit down.”
Sadie barked a nervous laugh. “Oh, of course. Please, sit down. I’m not used to Hollywood royalty in my home.”
“Nobody is,” Julia said with a light sigh. She brushed at the edge of the armchair where she’d placed the pillow and lowered herself slowly onto the seat. She smiled up at Sadie. “This is the part where you offer me a refreshment.”
Sadie burst into mortified action. “I’m so, so sorry! Would you like tea? A diet soda? Water?”
“Water would be nice, but make sure the glass is extra clean.”
Sadie scurried into her narrow galley kitchen, which was open to the living room through a pass through. “I’m sorry about the smell. I was just about to shower. I spent the whole morning frying eggs.”
“Oh!” Julia said with obvious relief. “I was starting to wonder where you’d buried the body.”
Sadie wiped painstakingly at a water glass with a clean dish towel before filling it and another one with chilled water. She handed the carefully wiped one to Julia, who examined it against the light from Sadie’s front window before taking the tiniest sip and setting it down on the coffee table. Relieved, Sadie perched on the chair opposite, the cold glass in her hand like a lifeline to reality. She could feel every thread of the upholstery against the back of her legs, and her mind already imagined the moment she would tell her sisters about Julia Menlo sitting in her living room. Too bad neither of them would particularly care.
Julia’s every movement displayed the regal control of a runway model, and Sadie felt her own relaxed frumpiness in comparison. Had Julia been born with this level of control or had she once existed like a regular person and trained herself to rise above it? Sadie sat back in her chair, crossed her legs at the ankles, and leaned her knees to the left—exactly the way Julia did it.
“I’m here about the dates,” Julia said. Her smile returned, but her tone was businesslike.
Sadia’s heart thrummed. “Are you happy with them or not happy with them?”
Julia’s eyes widened as she nodded in an exaggerated way. “Very happy. So happy, in fact, I think two is enough.”
“You want us to stop?” Sadie said. These dates were Julia’s idea. Why wouldn’t she want the third one?
Julia must have read the surprised look on her face as panic. “Aw, sweetie, what’s wrong? Are you catching feelings for Farm Boy? I hear he gives a mean back rub.”
Sadie wanted to dope-slap herself. Of course, Julia wanted to be done with the dates—she and Grant were a couple! Why hadn’t she anticipated this? Probably because it never occurred to Sadie that she could be a threat to Julia Menlo. The thought was preposterous. Then again, social media was powerful stuff. All those photos and videos—fake as they were—of Grant and her being in love must be getting to Julia. The last thing Sadie wanted was to be in some type of competition with Hollywood’s leading lady. She needed to reassure Julia that that wasn’t the case, and pronto.
She made a face as sickly sour as moldy lemons. “Me catch feelings for Grant? Oh, no, he’s not my type. Believe me, we’re only acting. When the cameras aren’t on, I barely speak to him.”
A half smile crept up the right side of Julia’s famous face. “So why are you so interested in a third date?”
Sadie hesitated. She’d just been asking herself that very question. “Actually?—”
Julia interrupted her predicament by introducing a brand new one. “Is it because you haven’t destroyed his career yet?” she said, one professionally shaped eyebrow arching high on her forehead.
Sadie’s jaw wrenched open and stayed that way. Tornado sirens went off in her mind as she began to realize the danger swirling round her.
Julia’s million-dollar smile spread into a knowing grin. Her finger, its long nail painted deep blood red, traced a lazy circle around her own knee. “You did such a good job picking the first two dates, but it hasn’t gone to plan, has it?”
Already off balance from Julia’s mere presence, Sadie struggled to track this conversation. In rapid succession, Julia had gone from not wanting more dates, to accusing Sadie of liking Grant, to divining her secret goal. If Julia loved Grant or even liked him as a friend, she wasn’t going to be happy about Sadie damaging his career. She might even ruin Sadie’s career to protect Grant. It would be so easy for Julia—just a few phone calls. And why not? Sadie meant nothing to her. They had no connection other than similar hair. Goodbye Surf Summer , and probably goodbye any acting parts from LA to New York.
Still, Julia could just be guessing, throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks. Sadie arranged her face into her sweetest, most innocent, wide-eyed smile. “Why would you think that?”
“Grant complained to Ronny that he wasn’t prepared for the dates.”
“But that doesn’t mean I’m?—"
“It doesn’t, and a regular person would never have suspected, especially with all those happy photos and fun hashtags, but I’m no regular person. An Indian festival for a meat and potatoes guy? Mud wrestling for Mr. Fastidious?” Julia made a pouty face. “Poor Grant, getting his career destroyed by the deli girl just as he’s about to get his big break.”
Sadie’s muscles twisted so tight she felt like a human rubber band ball. “No…I…we…it’s not?—”
“Now, now,” Julia said, cutting her off. She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them again the other direction. “I’m just pretending to be upset to get a rise out of you. From my experience, taking a man’s ego down a notch is never a bad thing. But, so far, all you’ve managed to do is boost Grant’s image, and we can’t have that, not yet. A humbled Grant will be more pliable for… Surf Summer .” She picked up her water glass and tapped its side a few times playfully. “I do like them pliable.”
Sadie’s rubber band muscles loosened a little, but not all the way. “But, I mean, I don’t want to do anything that could hurt Surf Summer .”
Julia waved her concern away. “ Surf Summer will be a hit because Julia Menlo is starring in it. But, tell me, was it something he did in college?”
Sadie’s sip of water went down the wrong tube, and she started coughing. She knows we were in college together too? “Sorry?” she croaked. She stared at Julia, her face damp from the coughing fit.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised that I know how to use the internet. I’m not that much older than you. So…what has earned Farm Boy so much venom from Sweet Sadie? Did he cheat on you? Take advantage of you? Cheat in his classes? Not invite you to his frat parties?”
Sadie picked at a bit of fluff on the upholstery of her second-hand chair, stalling for time, but there was no point in hiding it now. Julia already knew pretty much everything. “He dated and dumped all three of my roommates one by one. Then he switched majors to theater, and I had to be around him constantly.”
“Ah, so it’s revenge for your roommates, eh?” She winked at Sadie, but her eyes had a dark fire in them. “I do love a stone-cold revenge.”
“Mostly, yes. Plus, men like him get everything they want in life without hardly trying, you know?”
“Honey, I’ve been in the business a while. I know.” Julia hunched forward in her chair. “So, what’s the plan for date number three? Throw him off a cliff? Parasailing accident?”
Sadie laughed. “Nothing that drastic. I only wanted him to look a little bit bad in the press and on social media. But I’ve ended up improving his image, and I can’t think what to do for the last date anyway, so it’s fine with me if we?—”
“He sounds like a womanizer.”
Sadie sat back at the interruption, her mind returning to images of her college roommates in tears. “He’s definitely a womanizer. Women melt into puddles around him.”
“Hmmm,” Julia said, rubbing her chin with one hand. “So, for starters, you need a place with lots of beautiful women…” Her expression glazed over for several seconds before she snapped her fingers in triumph. “I’ve got it! Be-Seen Beach.”
Sadie tilted her head. “Be what beach?”
Julia smiled at her coquettishly. “You’ve heard of clubs where the bouncers only let beautiful people in, haven’t you?” Sadie nodded. “Be-Seen is the waterfront equivalent. It’s a secluded spot, and the wealthy owners of all the homes along the shore got together a couple of decades ago to keep…” She lowered her voice even though they were alone in the apartment. “…regular people out. It’s called Be-Seen Beach because?—”
“It’s the place to be seen,” Sadie said.
Julia lifted a graceful finger in the air. “Not just seen— discovered .”
“But how does that help? We’ve already got dedicated photographers.”
“You don’t understand. The most beautiful women in all of California are there on a Saturday afternoon, showing off their wares in thong bikinis. I mean, that’s the entire reason they’re there. No man with a roving eye can resist, and some of the ladies go a little…shall we say…overboard? You just need the photographers to catch you looking upset when Mr. Mudpuppy’s attention is decidedly elsewhere. Maybe you could even storm off in a huff when that happens.”
“I can definitely do that,” Sadie said, nodding enthusiastically. This would be so easy, why not do the third date after all? It wouldn't even take that long for him to get distracted. She could be home again in no time. “How could Grant and I get in?”
Julia fiddled absently with her impressive diamond tennis bracelet. “You’re both pretty enough, but to be certain, have Ronny put you on the list. He’s friends with all the owners. We’re even filming parts of Surf Summer there.”
“I see.” Sadie nodded. “I guess this could work.”
“Oh, it will work,” Julia said, rising from her chair. “Believe me, it will accomplish everything we need it to do.” She stood, pulled her scarf from her pocket, and began retying it around her hair. “Keep this little visit between us though, eh? And if Grant asks, tell him Ronny suggested the location. Can’t let my next leading man know I was in on the ego dousing.”
Sadie stood too. “Of course, of course.”
“And get your beach gear ready. In fact, wear your frumpiest swimsuit and a figure-hiding coverall over that. We can’t have his eye roving over you.”
“Oh, good plan, yes,” Sadie said, making a mental note. “I’ve got just the thing. Thank you so much.”
Julia moved toward the door and Sadie followed. “Tell Ronny you want to meet Grant at the south entrance to Be-Seen at one o’clock. This time it’s okay for Grant to know where you’re going—we want him to feel comfortable enough to take in the scenery .” With her hand on the doorknob, Julia leaned into Sadie and sniffed. “And maybe fry up a couple dozen eggs before you go. That’ll keep him ten feet from you at all times.”
Sadie watched from her front window, nose pressed to the glass, as Julia breezed down the exterior stairs of her apartment building. Her posture reminded Sadie of the times Monique had made them all walk around the house with books balanced on her heads. Julia could have balanced an entire library up there. When she reached the last step, a limo pulled up, and she vanished into it.
Still in a daze, Sadie gathered the glasses from the coffee table and headed to the kitchen. The lip of Julia’s glass held a dark red lipstick print. Should she wash it or keep it? She set it on the counter to decide later. Right now, she needed to prepare for the beach.