Fix You (26 page)

I wedge in between Andrew and Todd. But Todd is completely focused. He looks at my dress, notices my shoes. “You look terrific. Has anyone told you that tonight?”

I can’t help it. “Jeremy, actually.”

Todd laughs, blowing the smoke from his cigarette into the night air above our heads. “Did Tucker save you, I hope? You have to tell Andrew.”

Right now Andrew is intent on a conversation with two girls who missed curfew two hours ago by the looks of it. Total jail bait, I swear.

“How long are you in town?” I ask him.

“This week. I go back a week from today.”

I know nothing about this guy. “Where are you from?”

“New York. I’m in a band there. Andrew and I used to be in a band together, until he went all movie star on us and left for LA.”

A high school friend. This is an important person, a person who has history with Andrew. He knows Andrew from when he was
Andrew
, not Andy Pettigrew, superstar. And he seems to know all about me.

“You lived in Pennsylvania too?”

“I lived with Andrew and his folks when my dad got stationed in Germany my senior year in high school. Someday I’ll tell you all of our high school exploits—or most of them.”

“Don’t tell her about how you left me in that tree in the park when the cops came.” Andrew has turned around to listen. He puts an arm around my shoulder.

“You were the one who passed out right when the party got busted,” Todd counters. “It was every man for himself.”

I’m none too keen on hearing the high school drinking exploits. It makes me uncomfortable.

Todd changes the subject, thankfully. “Jeremy put the moves on Kelly tonight.” He waits for a reaction.

Andrew looks at me for confirmation.

“He told me to look him up when I was sick of the whole cougar thing.” I leave out the other parts.

“The old Jeremy King loyalty test.” Andrew shakes his head.

“What?” I’m confused.

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Jeremy doesn’t believe anyone could be with me for me. He thinks you’re dating me for my money, fame, power. So he tests you to see how loyal you are.”

“And if I’d said I was into him?” I’m astonished.

“Oh, he’d jump all over that—or you, more accurately—but it’d be in the name of protecting his client.” Andrew takes a sip of beer.

Todd laughs. “Oh, man! You need to watch your back, brother. He’s cold.” Todd punches Andrew on the arm.

Andrew stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Let’s dance.” He pulls me off the couch before I even know what’s going on.

Play along, Kelly, relax. Don’t assume the worst. “Wait!” I slip off my heels and hand them to Todd before I let Andrew lead me out to the dance floor.

I’m not sure what to expect when we pass by Dean and the velvet rope. I do notice that he murmurs something into his sleeve. He probably just alerted Tucker that Andrew’s on the move.

The dance floor is a small area nearer to the pool and the rest of the party. I’m not sure what the plan is here. Andrew has his hands on my hips and sways with me to the music. But my alarm bells are going off. There are a lot of people at this party. They can’t all be sworn to secrecy, can they? And I’m sure they can’t all be trusted to be discreet. I wonder whether everyone surrendered smartphones at the door. How many people are taking pictures and posting them as we speak? Or in this case, as we dance?

“Andrew.” I love the way his hands feel on me, but still…

“What?” He looks down at me. His eyelids are hooded. I know that look. He’s pretty drunk.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

He puts an arm around my neck, pulls me in to whisper in my ear. “I think this is a fabulous idea.” One of his hands strays, heading down to the bottom hem of my dress.

I step back just as he strokes my cheek and reaches out to kiss me. I kiss him even as I grab both of his hands in an attempt to rearrange them.

“Andrew. What about all of the stuff with Franca?”

“Screw it. You’re my date. I didn’t get to hold you all night.”

I’m acutely aware of the crowd. Yes, it’s busy, and yes, there’s a lot going on, but there are a lot of people. Someone’s going to notice who that is in the clinch on the dance floor next to them. It’s time for me to be the clear thinker here.

“We need to take this underground, my friend.” I lead him off the dance floor.

We get to the fringe, and he shakes me off, tries to circle his arms around my waist and pull me back out again. “Come on, Kelly. Lighten up.”

I’ve already decided this is not a good idea. I think we’re being watched more than casually by several of the girls around the pool. “Andrew, we’ve got an audience. We aren’t ready to do this, remember?”

He nuzzles my neck. “You were ready in the room earlier.”

This stings. I am not amused.

We’ve made it back to the pavilion, the couches. He lets go of me. “I’m going to go dance.” He walks back toward the dance floor and disappears into the crowd.

I don’t know what to do. I’m hurt, but I’m irritated. He’s acting like—well, Kelly, he’s acting like a boy. Probably because he is one. Jesus.

Todd’s suddenly next to me. “You did the right thing. He’s not paying any attention. But a lot of people are.” He tosses his head in the direction of the girls by the pool. They have their cell phones out, and it sure doesn’t look like they all have phone calls to make. Maybe Todd isn’t as drunk as I thought he was.

“You want to dance?” He extends a hand to me. Okay, he might be a dangerous friend of Andrew’s, but he’s a smooth one. I sigh and take his hand.

He doesn’t make an effort to be near Andrew on the dance floor, and I appreciate that. Andrew dances with the bikini-top orange girl, but thankfully, the music is fast, and he weaves around frenetically. Todd keeps me distracted. We have fun, dance a couple of songs together. He tries to get me to do more than a few ridiculous moves. Each one he prefaces with a goofy “And this is the Corkscrew” or “This is the Going Postal.” He’s funny, and I appreciate his attempts. And he’s kind. Without him, I’d be left standing in the middle of a party, stranded.

After a while, we go back to the pavilion. Tucker’s replaced Dean at the rope. It’s getting later, and the crowd has thinned out a little.

Franca. Franca sits on one of the couches, entertaining a little throng of men and women. She has on a bright yellow jumpsuit now. I guess one outfit isn’t enough for an event like this. Her phone is at the ready, and she checks it every other second. Occasionally someone at her side must say something funny, because Franca lets out an odd, high cackle every so often.

“Todd.” I don’t know what to say to him, but I want it to be along the lines of
Quick! Run!

His shoulders slump. “Oh, God, not her. I hate her teeth. They creep me out.”

He takes my hand, and we glide by the pavilion. As we pass Franca, Todd raises a hand in salute and calls out, “Franca! Darling! It’s too fabulous seeing you!”

He doesn’t even slow down. She gives a little half-wave, looks puzzled, and then turns back to her cadre.

I want to hug him. “I think we have something in common.”

He nods, but he looks around for someone else. “Where’s our mutual friend, the one we do like?”

I look for Andrew. He’s disappeared. He’s not on the dance floor. He’s not on the couches. My stomach flip-flops. Am I going to turn around and see him with someone else?

Todd must have read my face just now, which I suspect is not a hard thing to do, and he finds Andrew in a jiffy. “Oh, there he is.” He points to a table closer to the pool where Andrew smokes and talks casually with an older man in a suit. “He’s back to business—that’s one of the executive producers.”

I breathe out in relief. But I don’t like it, that worry. I want to trust him. The fact that I thought he might be off with someone isn’t a good sign.

“He likes you a lot. I wasn’t kidding that he’s told me all about you.”

This Todd might just be blessed with the gift of second sight. I needed to hear that right now.

“Sit with me,” he says. “We’ll have a drink, relax.”

I pat him on the hand. “I’m not much of a drinker. I think I’m going to bed.”

I can’t remember if I brought my little clutch up on the roof with me. I think about asking Tucker.

“Be sure to say goodnight to him, Kelly. Give him a break.”

“I’m doing the best I can. It’s hard. I’m not good at this.”

Todd strolls back to the couches and the young-looking girls who are lying in wait. “Maybe he’s not either,” he calls over his shoulder.

I see my clutch on the little table at the edge of the pavilion and retrieve it. Andrew’s still at the table with the producer. I don’t want to interrupt, especially if it’s business. And part of me kind of wants to make a point by leaving without saying anything to him. I don’t like having my feelings hurt.

I wave goodbye to Tucker. “I’m going to bed,” I mouth to him. He waves back.

I walk toward the elevator but stop along the way to slip my heels off. They will be relegated to the back of the closet in punishment for the beating they’ve given my feet this night.

I bump into someone as I stand back up. “Sorry.”

I turn around, expecting Andrew. It’s not. It’s Orange Girl, the one Andrew took for a twirl out on the dance floor. She sways visibly. Her mascara has slid south, giving her sweaty raccoon eyes. She is very drunk.

“What, bitch?” she asks me.

“What?” I stand with my shoes in my hand.

“What’s your problem?” She’s louder. Well, this should be fun.

“Goodnight.” I turn my back to her. There’s no reasoning with a drunk person. Time to leave.

“Hey!” She grabs at me and catches my shoulder, mostly by the cap sleeve of my dress. It tears off, and she takes a decent chunk of my skin with it, thanks to the dragon-lady nails she’s sporting.

“Ow!” I’d really like to kick her ass. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a girl fight before, but man, I am tempted.

But I’m also sober. And at least ten years older than she is. Let’s see, if I avoided dancing with my boyfriend to stay under the radar, would a bitch-slapping frenzy be a good idea? I chalk one up to my wisdom and experience and stay still.

And anyway, suddenly Tucker’s right next to me. This guy is good, I tell you what.

“It’s time for you to go home, miss.” He takes a step in front of me, shielding me from the drunken harpy. There’s a quick bustle. The bouncer from velvet rope number one suddenly has Orange Girl by the arm and escorts her to the elevator.

“Tucker, you are my favorite person in the world.” I lean into him. Maybe that instinct to hide behind him at the beginning of the night was a good one.

He stoops down and recovers the left sleeve of my dress. “Sorry, Kelly.” He looks at the skin on my arm. “She got you good. What a little monster.” He mumbles something into the microphone at his sleeve.

I touch my arm and realize I’m bleeding. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I sit down on the half wall around the pool. What a night.

“Here.” A waitress has brought Tucker a white bar towel. He dabs at my arm with it.

“Geez, maybe we need to get you a tetanus shot. Or a rabies shot.” He laughs a little, and so do I. Things are ridiculous.

Suddenly I’m aware of a little circle of onlookers. They’re dissipating now, since the girl fight didn’t materialize, but a tall figure pushes through them and covers the distance to Tucker in a few long strides.

“What’s going on?” It’s Andrew. Todd saunters up behind him.

“Nothing. Some girl tried to get Kelly to fight her. She’s been escorted out of the party.”

Todd elbows him. “It was the drunk girl you danced with, dude.”

I look up in time to see Andrew see the blood on the bar towel. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” I tell him quickly. “It just bled for a minute there.”

His look is agonized. He doesn’t say anything. He puts his hands on top of his head, and he turns around and walks away. Todd follows him, but Andrew brushes him off. I can’t tell if he says anything before he disappears through a fire door.

I stand up. “Well, that was just awesome. I’m going to bed. Really. I have a plane to catch in the morning.” I throw the towel in the trash and stuff the sleeve of my dress into my clutch.

Todd and Tucker walk me to the elevator. “’Night, Kelly.” Tucker gives me a hug.

Todd rides down in the elevator with me. “Clearly she did not get the save-the-drama-for-your-mama memo.” He smiles and puts an arm around my shoulders.

“Ow.” He hits the shoulder the girl tore up.

“Sorry.” He pulls a cigarette from a pack in the inside pocket of his coat, tucks it behind one ear. “You know he feels responsible.”

“Yep.” I wonder if I hold him responsible. I think I’m still deciding.

“He’ll want to talk to you.”

“I want to go to sleep. He’ll have to wait.” I save the jab about only talking to sober people. It’s just mean.