Chasing Chaos: A Novel (11 page)

Now,
she was a drinker, just a very deliberate one. Even on a Tuesday morning.

“Um,
excuse me?” A man spoke to her right.

She
looked up. A guy stood there, about her age, tall—taller than she was, and she
was five-ten—and on the good-looking side of things.

“What’s
up,” she said.

“That
girl you were with, who just left. Was her name Akane?”

Miranda
tilted her head to examine the guy more closely. He seemed a little out of
sorts. Something was up. Daphne hadn’t gone by Akane in five years. She’d said
so last night.

“No,”
Miranda said. “Who are you?”

“Oh.
I’m John.” He looked even more disoriented. “I was just having breakfast with
my friend there,” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, and Miranda
spied another guy about John’s age sitting at a table. “And I thought I
recognized her from a—” he paused, searching for the right word it seemed,
“from a night out recently.”

“How
recently?”

“Saturday.”

That
was indeed recently. Miranda narrowed her eyes. She was pretty sure John had
met Daphne on Saturday night, and Daphne had not wanted John to meet her again.
What Miranda couldn’t figure out was why. Daphne was usually very
straightforward. Lying, sneaking around—that was not Daphne’s style.

“I’m
Miranda,” she said. “Sorry that wasn’t your friend.”

“She,
uh, wasn’t a friend. Just someone I met. Briefly.”

Miranda
worked hard to keep a smile from her face. She wondered exactly how brief John
had been if Daphne was trying so hard to avoid him now.

Then
Miranda did something she knew she shouldn’t have done. She felt like it wasn’t
her mouth speaking or her body acting. She knew Daphne was a good person—she
had just taken her in after all these years—and she shouldn’t want to hurt her.
But thinking of her mother’s body rotting in the ground, thinking of the past
few years after college putting up with her mother’s shit while Daphne lived as
a glamorous writer here in Los Angeles, thinking of the one time she’d really
needed Daphne’s help and Daphne had run out on her much like she’d run out on
this John fellow, Miranda’s willpower broke.

“Do
you want to have a seat, John? I seem to be on my own today, and I’m new in
town.” She smiled her red-lipped smile. It would either work, or it wouldn’t.

“Oh,
well, sure,” John said, revelation dawning on his face. “Let me just go say
good-bye to my buddy.”

Really
, Miranda thought.
Men.

She
lifted her mimosa to her lips. Delicious.

~~~~

Around
nine o’clock Tuesday morning, Dan Morello entered Uptown Coffee. He placed his
order with Tony, the owner, and stared at Daphne’s signed headshot while he
waited for the barista to bring him his cappuccino. In the photo, she was
smiling her open smile, her radiance shining for the world to see, and he
wondered if she would ever smile at him like that again. He wished he hadn’t
been such an ass to her last night on the phone.

He
turned to scan the room. She’d said she’d be here this morning to debrief about
the dinner she’d skipped last night. And there she was, typing away at her
usual table in the back corner, her laptop plugged into the only outlet in the
place. He considered turning around and leaving, never speaking to her again.
He wasn’t sure if he could keep his cool around her any more.

But
his practical side won out. She was a gifted writer, and more than that, she
was charismatic. Everyone loved this girl. If he burned her, it didn’t matter
that he had fifteen more years in the business than she did. She’d come out on
top. Plus, a long time ago they’d been friends. Maybe they could figure out how
to do that again. It would be hard as hell, but he could give it a go.

He
wove through the closely set tables until he reached her, then dropped his bag
to the floor. When she met his eyes, she didn’t seem surprised to see him. Ah.
So she’d watched him come in. Had he fled, she’d have noticed. Of course she’d
have noticed. She noticed everything.

“Good
morning,” she said, as though he hadn’t slammed the phone down in her ear the
night before.

“Yeah,
you too,” he said. “You missed the most amazing dinner last night.”

“Did
I?”

“Once
in a lifetime. The food, the kid, everything.”

“You
did say that.”

He’d
said that? Said what? What was she talking about? She’d been saying the
strangest things lately.

“Anyways,”
he continued, “the kid said he has a budget to option just about anything he’s
interested in right now. And he’s heard of you. Can you believe it!”

“Yes.”

“That’s
it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Why
wouldn’t he have heard of me? He agreed to have dinner with me.”

She
was acting like he’d just said something to piss her off. Why on Earth would
she be pissed off at him? She was the one who dumped him.

“Regardless,”
she continued, “I appreciate you having the meeting without me. Should we share
his info with our agents as a go-to person?”

“Yeah,”
he grumbled.

“What’s
the matter?”

“Where
were you last night?”

“I
told you. I was at Sandy’s.”

“Are
you fucking Sandy?”

“Oh
Christ. Stop it.”

“He’s
not that much older than me.”

Actually,
according to Dan’s sources, Sandy was exactly fourteen years older than he was,
and thus, significantly older. But Sandy was a seriously good-looking dude. And
right now, Dan couldn’t see straight where Daphne was concerned.

“Do
you want to have this conversation?” She sounded tired.

“Not
really.” And he didn’t. He was tired, too, and he did feel old. Maybe she was
right to dump him.

“Good.”
She eyed him hard. “Because I was about to invite you to Greta and Timmy’s
wedding. Which will be at Sandy’s house tomorrow.” She leaned forward, eyeing
him again. “Do you understand?”

“Of
course, babe. Calm down. I get it.” She seemed so pissed off with him. She’d
always been so patient. Maybe he’d pushed her too far.

“I’m
inviting you because you’ve been friends with Greta and Timmy a long time. But
there will be bouncers from Rivet at the wedding. I won’t be afraid to use them
on you.”

“Jeez,
babe. What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I
have no idea, Dan.”

~~~~

During
her conversation with Dan, Daphne had kept her phone in her lap, set to silent
mode. The last thing she needed was Dan asking her why her phone kept buzzing.
She’d been receiving texts and phone calls from all sorts of people: florists,
Olivia, Sandy, Greta, even Timmy. Wedding frenzy was in overdrive.

And
then there was Marlon. Marlon had called twice since she’d arrived at Uptown.
She’d ignored both calls.

Now
that she and Dan had both turned to their work, she looked down to see another
text message arrive. This one from Marlon. “Are you ignoring me on purpose?”

She
was. She knew she shouldn’t be ignoring him because she was supposed to be
planning a wedding with him. She’d thought the meaning of her words to him last
night was plain:
Keep away. I’m trouble.

But
her words hadn’t gotten through. Two phone calls and one text message later,
she wondered if she should answer him, just to make sure there wasn’t some
wedding crisis she needed to deal with. But if that were the case, then
Olivia’s text messages—even Sandy’s—would have said so. No. She had a feeling
Marlon’s messages were not related to wedding business.

She
deleted both of Marlon’s voicemails and the text message.

She
had trouble concentrating for the next thirty minutes and considered calling
Miranda to see if she wanted to go shopping for a dress to wear to the wedding.
She was just closing the lid to her laptop when she gasped. Marlon. Standing
right next to her table, arms crossed over his chest.

“What
are you doing here?” she asked.

Dan
looked up. His eyes narrowed. He, too, crossed his arms, leaning back into his
chair.

Daphne
stifled a groan.

“I
thought you might have lost your cell phone,” Marlon said. “So I came to find
you.”

“Nonsense!”
Dan said. “Daphne’s cell phone is attached to her body. It’s like her freaky
sixth toe.”

“You
have a sixth toe?” Marlon asked her.

“Would
it be a problem if I did?”

Dan
cracked up laughing. Then he stood, sticking his hand in Marlon’s direction.
“Dan Morello,” he said.

“Marlon,”
Marlon shook Dan’s hand.

Dan
gawped at him.

“How
did you get here?” Daphne asked.

“Sandy
lets me drive his car.”

“You
know Sandy?” Dan asked.

“Yeah,”
said Marlon.

“You
drove his Aston Martin?” Dan asked.

Marlon
glanced at Dan, an impatient look in his eyes. “Yes. The Aston Martin.”

“Who
are you?” Dan asked.

“Sandy’s
handyman.”

Dan
glared at her then. Daphne knew at that moment Dan had figured out the truth
about where she’d been last night. She wanted to run from the restaurant, to
let these two animals have their fight. But she wouldn’t. Uptown was her
territory.

Instead,
Dan picked up his bag and hung it over his shoulder. He took his time packing
up his pen, sliding the lid on it with a loud snick, folding closed his
notebook, then tucking both into his bag. He strode out, not saying good-bye,
not saying anything. He was, she believed, whistling.

Daphne
got a bad feeling.

Marlon
sat in Dan’s seat.

“Ugh,
Marlon. Why are you here?” Even though she was annoyed by his unexpected
arrival and annoyed that it set off Dan, she couldn’t help feeling pleased that
he was here, sitting across from her, down from his hilltop sanctuary.

She
buried that emotion.

“Sorry
about that,” he said. “I thought you guys broke up.”

“We
did break up, you idiot. You heard us yourself when I called him. But now he
knows I was with you last night.” She put her face in her hands. Her friendship
with Dan now seemed irreparable, and she just didn’t have many friends.

She
looked at Marlon, angry now. “How would you feel if your girlfriend of many
years was with another man the day after breaking up with you?”

“Not
good.”

“Not
good! I don’t want to hurt him. I just don’t want to be with him.”

“I’ve
been trying to get in touch with you, but you won’t even text me back.”

“It’s
only eleven o’clock.”

“Fine.
Tell me you weren’t ignoring me, and I’ll go.”

Daphne
squeezed her fingers together into two fists. She couldn’t lie to him. She just
shook her head, refusing to speak.

“Why?”
he asked.

“Didn’t
you see Dan? I hurt people, Marlon. It’s what I do. But you’re special. I don’t
want to hurt you too.”

“You
think I’m special?” He sounded delighted.

This
time she did groan. “I thought you didn’t like taking unnecessary risks.”

“You
and me might be risky. But I think you have a good heart. I don’t think you
hurt people on purpose.”

“Of
course not—I don’t do it on purpose.” She pressed her hands against the sides
of her face in frustration. “But we both know accidents happen. Like, when this
guy you’ve been hanging out with somehow improbably tracks you down at your
favorite coffee shop and humiliates your ex.” She paused, realizing something.
“Wait. How did you find me?”

“Carrie.”

“Carrie?
That stinker.”

“Fair’s
fair. She told you about my parents.”

“Do
you think she’s matchmaking?”

“Absolutely.”

Daphne
laughed, and her face relaxed into a smile.

“Do
you want another coffee?” He waved at a server.

“It’s
OK. I’ve had plenty this morning.” She nodded at him. “What did you want to
tell me so badly?”

“I
talked with Sandy this morning. He saw your car at my place late last night.”

“Oh
no!” She covered her face with her hands again, embarrassed.

“Oh
yes. He told me to be careful around you.”

“He’s
right, you know.”

“Yes,
you’ve told me. About eighteen times now.”

“So
you came here to warn me that Sandy knows about us?”

“That
was one reason.”

“What
was the other?”