hollis-partygirlFD-IN-EP (3 page)

Happy that that’s settled, I take another sip of my overpriced whiskey.

“Right.” He’s looking at me like I’m an alien again.

He and I are very different people, and I figure I’m probably going to see that look on his face a lot. Better to just learn to love it now.

I’m not sure if it’s this fancy whiskey or the joy that comes with the confirmation that Brody and I are only dating each other, but I’m feeling fabulous all of a sudden, and not even his clear confusion about me can change that. I take another happy sip of my drink.

“New Year’s,” he mumbles.

I’ve been staring down into the dregs of my whiskey, so I look at him to make sure I heard him right.

“What?” I ask.

He clears his throat.

“New Year’s was the last time I had a date with someone else.”

And now I’m staring at him like a deer in headlights. I get the impression he doesn’t normally share these details and something about our conversation made him want to, which accounts for the Bambi look that must be on my face now.

Brody reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I’m utterly frozen in place as his fingers run the length of the strand all the way to the bottom. He doesn’t seem to realize I’ve stopped breathing, because he doesn’t let go of that piece of hair; he holds on to it and gently rubs the ends between his finger and his thumb.

“Do you remember that night?” His voice comes out whisper soft.

I’m pretty sure I’ve swallowed my tongue, because all I can do is nod.

“I walked up to the lounge to check on you guys and found you on the dance floor,” he says as he wraps the strand of my hair slowly around his index finger. “You were doing the sprinkler, and you had on that gold dress.” He smiles at the memory. “You were this tiny little firecracker, and you were
laughing
so hard—and I was done. I called my date and canceled plans to meet her at some party. I pretended I had to work the rest of the night—all so I could watch you dance. You were like a sparkler—so bright and vibrant, and your glow lit up everyone around you. I watched them watch you, and I knew”—he takes a breath—“if I wanted to hold you myself, I couldn’t keep living life like I had been. Because I knew, Landon, someday we were going to find ourselves here, and I wanted to be able to look you in the eye and tell you this story. That as soon as I saw you in that tiny gold dress, there hasn’t been anybody else.”

I don’t blink. I don’t think I even breathe.

Brody is so earnest and sincere, and it’s the best thing anyone has ever said.

“Well, isn’t this
special
,” a hateful voice snaps, intruding into the space between us.

Brody immediately turns. But I don’t need to. I’d know that voice in my sleep, and more recently it’s been present in my nightmares. I’d know that tone and the ugly way she hisses out any word that starts with an “S” anywhere. But more than that, I don’t need to look because I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to confront her again, and given my luck, it
would
happen when the man of my dreams is telling me the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.

I blow out a quick breath of disappointment and then turn my face to get a good look at the familiar scowl on hers.

“Hello, Selah,” I say quietly.

She doesn’t acknowledge me, not that I really thought she would. She looks down her nose directly at Brody.

“Still slumming, B?” she sneers.

Brody lets go of my hair but reaches for my hand. I hope he can’t feel my heart hammering through my palm. I wish she didn’t have this effect on me; I wish I wasn’t so nervous, but this woman terrorized me for months, and it’s hard not to revert right back to the person I was when I worked for her.

“What are you doing here, Selah?” Brody asks, managing to sound totally bored.

The bored thing is one of his best tricks. I can feel the tension in his hand and see that he’s biting down on his molars in agitation again, but if you didn’t know him well, you’d think he was totally indifferent.

“What am
I
doing here?” She runs her fingers quickly through the ends of her bob. “
I’m
celebrating my birthday. Surely you haven’t forgotten, B. We spent this night together last year.”

He squeezes my hand tighter. “That’s right—me and two hundred other people were at your birthday party last year. But you’ll have to forgive me for forgetting the date; I can’t be expected to remember such inconsequential information.”

Ooh, point for Brody.

Selah’s eyes narrow at him.

“Well,” she sniffs, “I’ve rented out half the restaurant. That’s fifty-two of my guests to watch you and this child who tried to bring down my company work your way through a four-course meal. I’m sure that won’t seem
inconsequential
at all.”

Her eyes land on me for exactly as long as it takes to flash a viperous smile. Then she walks back to the hostess stand without a backward glance.

“Do you think it’s really her birthday?” Brody asks as we watch her go.

I nod without looking at him. “Yes, unfortunately there is a whole host of random information stored in my brain from my time with her. Her acupuncturist’s cell phone number, the street address to her parents’ vacation home in Vail, and her birthday. It’s definitely today.”

Brody sighs and then looks at me.

“We have to go somewhere else.”

I’m actually surprised he’d let her chase him away. I try to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t you have a whole plan?” I jab one finger playfully into his stomach.

And Holy Moses, how many abs does he have under that shirt?

Clearly he can’t tell that I’m imagining him shirtless, thank the Lord. He looks back over his shoulder at the hostess and waves his free hand in some sort of quick gesture.

“I have plans.” He looks back at me. “And not one of them includes having our night ruined by her.” He pulls me towards the door. “We’ll go somewhere else just as great. OK?”

I really should stop daydreaming about his stomach muscles.

“OK,” I sigh wistfully.

I hurry along as fast as these high, high shoes can take me.

—

Whatever the hand gesture was, it must have had something to do with the valet, because his car is waiting for us at the curb when we get there.

“Where to now?” I ask when he helps me into my seat.

“I’m not sure, but I’m going to figure it out.”

He closes the door behind me and walks around to the driver’s side. As soon as he gets in, he hits a contact on his phone and the car fills with the sound of ringing from the Bluetooth.

“You know I have Cade’s show tonight.” A young guy’s annoyed voice fills the car. “You promised I had the night off—”

“Michael,” Brody says, interrupting the small tirade, “you’re on speakerphone.”

It’s totally silent for a moment. When Michael starts speaking again, I can hear the smile in his voice.

“So Landon is in the car?
The
Landon?” he asks gleefully.

I look out the window and try not to blush. I’ve heard Brody talk about his assistant before, but it’s really sweet to know that he’s heard about me too.

“You understand I can fire you, right?” Brody asks, but there’s no bite in his tone.

“Please,”
Michael snorts. “Do you know how many times you’ve threatened to do that over the last four years?”

“Clearly not enough,” Brody grumbles under his breath.

“Yes, well, what can I do for you? I’m literally minutes from walking into the theater, and you know I can’t have my phone on in there.”

“I need new reservations,” Brody says.

“What happened to your old ones?” Michael sounds exasperated again.

“Don’t worry about it. Just get me new ones.” Brody is starting to sound pretty exasperated himself.

“I need to find new ressies in the twelve minutes before the show starts
and
it has to fit your criteria?”

“Yes,” Brody snaps. “This can’t be that hard.”

“At least one Michelin star, romantic, intimate.” Michael starts listing things off in what I assume is his Brody voice. “And it can’t be somewhere you’ve taken—”

“Which way am I driving, Michael?” Brody asks loudly.

A long sigh fills the car through the cell phone speaker. Then Michael says quickly, “Drive towards the Westside. I’ll call you back.”

The line goes dead, and music fills the car again. Brody pulls out into traffic, and when I turn to look at him, he’s running a hand through his hair in agitation. I need to try to make him feel better.

“We don’t have to go somewhere special. I’d be totally happy anywhere. I think there’s a Cheesecake Fa—” I can’t even finish the sentence because the look on his face is so mortified. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“OK,” I say gently. “You choose the place.”

His phone rings again, and as soon as he touches the button, Michael starts talking.

“Can you make it to The Wilshire in half an hour?” Michael demands.

Brody glances at the clock and the relatively empty street as we drive down La Brea towards the freeway.

“Absolutely,” he says.

“All right, I had to
beg
them to fit you in and you
cannot
be even five minutes late, because they have a huge party coming in at nine and if you miss your window you’re out of luck.”

“OK,” Brody tells him.

“All right, the little usher holding the door is super pissed at me right now. I have to go—and I’m shutting off my phone for the next
three hours
, Ashton, so don’t even think of trying to call me.”

“OK, Michael—” Brody tries to cut him off.

“Bye, Landon. Have fun!” Michael sings over Brody’s voice.

I can’t stop my giggle.

“Bye, Michael. Thanks for your help,” I call back.

When Brody hangs up he looks over at me expectantly.

“Is The Wilshire OK?”

“Honestly, I’m really easy to please.” I smile at him. “And I very rarely get to go to dinner, so The Wilshire sounds awesome. Do you think we’ll be able to make it to Santa Monica in half an hour, though?”

I glance at the clock on the dash, knowing after months of living in Los Angeles how driving always takes twice as long as you think it will.

“It’s after rush hour, and I drive pretty fast.” He throws me a cocky grin. “We’ll be just fine.”

He pushes down on the accelerator, and we rush off towards the beach.

—

Twenty-five minutes and six miles later, we’re sitting in a parking lot.

Well, not a
real
parking lot, but bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 10 is a special kind of hell you have to experience firsthand to truly understand. Brody stopped speaking about ten minutes ago, and his hair is ruffled every which way from running his hand through it anxiously. We’re nowhere near the restaurant, and there’s no chance of us making it there on time. In fact, if we could make it there in less than an hour, it would be a wine-making Jesus kind of miracle. One of us needs to call it like it is, and based on the death grip he has on the steering wheel, I’m guessing it’s going to need to be me.

“Brody, we can just go somewhere around here,” I say gently. “There’s no use going to all of this trouble.”

He lets out a long sigh. When he finally looks over at me, his grin is self-deprecating.

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says into the space between us.

Good grief, you’d think he’s as nervous about this as I am! Apparently he doesn’t realize how much I like him or how little the location matters so long as he’s the one next to me. I don’t want him feeling like he always has to impress me. OK, time to have some courage.

“Hey.” I reach for his hand.

Since the freeway is still at a standstill, he turns and looks right at me.

“Anything I do with you is nice,” I tell him sincerely. “We could get McDonald’s drive-through or hit up the ninety-nine cents store or go do laundry at the fluff ’n’ fold down the street from my house. It would still be nice.”

I click my tongue in response to the look on his face.

“You’ve never done any of those things, have you?” I laugh at him.

“God, no,” he says with a mock shudder. But then he smiles, and some of the tension falls out of his shoulders. “Thank you for saying that, though. I feel exactly the same way.”

I smile back and fluff my hair dramatically.

“All right then, pal, what do you say we just get off on the next exit and find somewhere nearby?”

Brody is already easing into the next lane before I finish the comment.

“Sounds like a—”

The sound of his phone ringing cuts him off. Brody frowns at the unknown number lighting up the monitor on the dash.

“This is Brody,” he answers, sounding like the crisp businessman I’d first met.

“Mr. Ashton, I’m so happy I caught you,” says a breathless young woman. “This is Elena, the hostess at Hatfield’s. We think you may have left your wallet in the bar.”

Brody immediately checks three pockets, and I wince as all of them come up empty. His mouth forms more than one silent curse.

“Thank you, Elena. Do you have it with you now?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll lock it up in the general manager’s office until you get back.”

Brody and I turn in unison to look at the gridlock on the freeway heading back in the direction we’ve just come. If anything, it’s worse than the westbound side. It would take us forever to get back to Hollywood. Brody thanks the woman on the phone and ends the call.

“I can’t believe I did that.” He sounds annoyed. “I’m never forgetful. The eastbound traffic is a nightmare; it’ll take us forever to get back across town.”

He shakes his head in dismay.

Time to step it up. I plaster on my best smile. This really isn’t that big of a deal.

“We can grab it later, or maybe you could send Michael over there tomorrow?” I offer helpfully.

Brody frowns, apparently confused about the direction I’m headed.

“That doesn’t do us much good tonight. It’ll take a while, but plenty of places will still be open when we get there.”