Chapter 13 #2
Something in his eyes makes me believe he’s telling the truth, but I can’t imagine what he could say to me that he wouldn’t say to his boss. “What could that be?”
“I knew your cousin.”
Gabriella
The media had cleared out, and Rochelle McArthur had flounced off, her arm linked in Bobby Warren’s, the pink strap of her asymmetric black dress slipping over her tanned shoulder.
It would take everything she had to wrest the job away from that one.
But then again, if Jesse was honest with his offer, if the sum was enough, perhaps it wouldn’t matter.
So much for this little celebration. Gabriella stepped out the back door and walked around in front.
Everyone except the hired help and poor Tania Marie had left the office, or the center, as Bobby Warren preferred to call it.
A few hours later, they’d do it all again for the television audience.
She was certain to be questioned about the mishap at the hotel.
Gabriella felt her flesh grow clammy as she recalled what the real mishap had been last night, the one almost as terrifying as the smashed mirror.
The one where the guilty party was all too clear.
Where was Christopher? She hated to stand alone like this, hated being alone, period. What had Alain said the day she left? “You want to spend your nights hugging air?”
And she had said, “I’ll be hugging freedom.”
“Hey, Gabby.” She turned at the sound of the stage whisper to spot Tania Marie trying to press herself against the side of the building. Gabriella went over to where she stood.
Even in the stylish little glasses, the poor girl looked as if she needed a good cry. At least her hair had killer body, better than this frizzy mass she carried around. “What is it? Are you all right?”
“Totally screwed. My cell phone’s all jacked up, and I can’t call my bodyguard. Can I use yours?”
“Of course.” At that moment, her sedan glided to a stop in front of the Killer Body center. “There’s my driver,” Gabriella said. “Why don’t you let me give you a lift?”
“You mean it? Hey, that would be great.” Tania Marie’s lips, still as thickly polished and glossed as her fingernails, broke into a smile that seemed to come from her heart and not from a media trainer or makeup artist. “I don’t want to depend on this asshole bodyguard any more than is absolutely necessary, if you know what I mean. ”
“Of course,” Gabriella said, although she didn’t have a clue.
Nor could she imagine why anyone, especially a pretty girl—and Tania Marie did have such a pretty face, not to mention that gorgeous burgundy hair—would want to, indeed even relish, speaking with the vernacular of a far less fortunate person.
Christopher played the chauffeur role with aplomb.
How blessed she had been that this native Californian had decided, during the course of his world travels, to visit what she once thought of as her country.
And she was more fortunate still that in that very city, his lover chose to desert him and Christopher sought employment as a driver.
She could tell Tania Marie was impressed as she directed him to her hotel. Arrogant cars cut them off at every corner. Gabriella couldn’t abide these Southern Californians. Too brash—what Christopher would call too ballsy—they too frequently dealt with life the way they dealt with the freeways.
“Are you from here?” Gabriella inquired.
“Yeah, but not for a long time. My folks have been divorced for as long as I can remember. My mother lives in San Francisco. That’s where her newest restaurant is.”
As if Gabriella or most of the country didn’t know that. “What does your father do?”
“He’s back in New York.” Tania Marie paused, and rushed out the rest of it, her voice defiant. “Probably the best damned bartender in the country.”
“Indeed.” That juicy tidbit was one the tabloids had missed. “I adore your mom’s San Francisco place. Where do you live now?”
“Santa Barbara.” She raised her eyebrows. “After my all-too-public problems in New York, I moved there about three months ago.”
“Before the Killer Body misfortune?”
“You mean before Julie disappeared? Hell, yes. That wasn’t the reason I moved.” Her eyes darkened, or maybe it was just that the lighting changed as they pulled onto Colorado Avenue. “What about you? Where do you live?”
“Los Angeles, for now.” She met the dark challenge of Tania Marie’s eyes. “Like you, I suspect, I’m nursing a broken heart in the public eye. I don’t like it very much.”
Tears burst and spread along the bottom lids of Tania Marie’s eyes. “Tell me about it. Don’t you hate those bastards?”
“Sometimes,” Gabriella said. “I’d have to say that sometimes I hate them, make that him. And sometimes I miss him with all my heart and soul.”
Tania Marie wiped her eyes, leaving a raccoon smear from the corner of the right one to the side of her face. “I miss him, too, the bastard.”
In that moment, Gabriella knew why Tania Marie swore. And she wished that she could swear, too.
They pulled onto Los Robles, and Tania Marie called to Christopher, “Look for Walnut. That’s the cross street.”
Something sent a small shiver down Gabriella’s spine.
“You’re staying at the Westin?”
She nodded. “It’s a nice hotel. I like the robes and that double shower.”
“You were there last night?”
“No, I checked in this morning. I heard about what happened, though.” She narrowed her eyes. “You know what I think?”
Gabriella looked into those deceptively innocent blue-green eyes and tried to swallow the knot in her throat. “Tell me.”
“It’s that bitch, Rochelle.”
Another shiver shot through her. “What about her?”
“Like she’s the one. Someone damn near killed me in the sauna at my health club. Someone trashed your room at the hotel. But nothing’s happened to her.”
“Maybe she’s going to be next,” Gabriella said.
“I doubt the hell out of that one. The bitch offered me her husband to back out of the competition.”
“She offered you Jesse?” Gabriella couldn’t stop the hot flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. She looked away, out the window.
“Not like that. As my agent. Jesse told me he might be able to get me some film work, something respectable. Take the attention off those recent events of mine.”
“Did he offer you money, too?”
“No. I don’t need money.”
“No, you don’t. Jesse offered you what he thought you did need.”
Gabriella ached to tell Tania Marie about her own offer from Jesse, and her conversation with him, but she didn’t dare take the chance.
With a chill, she recalled that Tania Marie, not Rochelle, was the one who was staying at the Westin—the site of her room-trashing.
Besides, Tania Marie was a loose cannon, with questionable regard for decorum.
“That reporter was right about you,” Tania Marie said. “You are the perfect fit. I can lose to you, but I cannot lose to that bitch, Rochelle. You know she’s screwing Bobby Warren?”
“Nobody knows that.”
“The tabloids do.”
“The tabloids also claim that you had sex with one of America’s most respected news commentators.”
“Had to tie him down, right? It was all me, and he was just overcome.” Tania Marie wiped her eyes.
“The man’s not as pure as his image. You don’t get to be his age and then just accidentally end up cheating on your wife with an assistant younger than your daughter.
My problem wasn’t what I did or even getting caught by that stupid housekeeper.
It was believing him when he said he loved me. ” She bit her lip.
“We’re not so different, after all,” Gabriella said. “We’ve both been betrayed by the men we love.”
“Like I said, I can lose to you, but not Rochelle. Have you ever really checked her out? She has those damned French manicured toenails. They’re acrylics for sure, and her fingernails match.
That’s how all the manicurists wear theirs, just clipped down to nothing, and they paint that toxic shit on. ”
Gabriella glanced down at her own acrylics and the lilac frost that covered them. At least she had opted for tasteful polish. “How do you do your own nails?”
Tania Marie laughed. “Hey, in some ways, Mother Nature kicked me in the ass. But I’ve got great nails, great teeth and great hair.” Across the narrow space in the car seat, she pointed a sharp, burgundy-coated stiletto at Gabriella. “Believe it or not, these are all mine.”
“Believe it or not, I believe it.”
“Good.” Tania Marie turned to her and lowered her voice. “Now, what are we going to do about that bitch, Rochelle?”
At that moment, Gabriella decided to tell her about Jesse McArthur’s offer.