Nacho Figueras Presents (13 page)

K
at was dressed and waiting for Camelia when her phone rang. It was her manager, Honey.

“Babe, I've got news about the script.”

Kat's heart started to beat faster. She sat down on her bed. “Good or bad?”

“Well…could be either. Okay, so I've got two studios very interested.”

Kat punched the air with her fist in glee. “But that's great! Do you think we can get a bidding war going? Do you think we can guarantee that I'll direct?”

“Well, wait a minute, okay? I have two studios very interested but they both have the same questions.”

“Which are?”

“Can we change polo to something more relatable—say, football?”

Kat groaned. “Oh, come on.”

“And can the lead—Victoria—be switched over to a man, not a woman.”

Kat exploded. “What? Are you serious?”

“I told you. Good news. Bad news.”

“Well, that's just frigging ridiculous. They're missing the whole damned point if they think—”

“Hey, I know. I know. I already told them there was no way on God's green earth you were going to go for it. But I had to ask. It's my job. Don't worry. This interest is a good sign. And I've leaked it to a small handful of top actresses. All we have to do is get someone attached.”

Kat took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I know. You're right. Okay. Thanks, Honey.”

“My pleasure, babe. I love this one. You know I do. We'll find the right people for it. Don't you worry.”

“I'm not,” she lied.

She threw herself back onto the bed, closed her eyes, and groaned. Sebastian had been right. They were going to tear this script to pieces.

Her phone beeped with a message from Camelia. She was five minutes away.

Kat didn't care. She didn't want to go out anyway. And she certainly didn't want to go out wearing a formal gown.

When Camelia had said “party,” Kat had imagined some club night—not black tie. It was only when Camelia had called the day before to ask Kat if she had a pair of elbow-length gloves that she could borrow that Kat got a clear view of what was expected.

She'd chosen a strapless black satin sheath—an ex-boyfriend had once told her looked like a black calla lily when she wore it. She wore her hair down and wild—her curls springing out in all directions. Sometimes it was easier not to fight Mother Nature. She slid on a pair of six-inch black sandals, and the only jewelry she wore was a pair of teardrop-shaped rubies in her ears. The stones were glass, but she thought they could pass for real in dim light.

Camelia hadn't told her much else about the party except that it was in Palm Beach and had nothing to do with polo, so there was almost zero chance that any of the Del Campos would show up.

The doorbell rang, and she heard the murmur of her mother's voice combined with Camelia's more exuberant one.

She sighed.
Suck it up, Parker
, she thought.
No backing out now.

Sebastian mixed himself a rum and Coke. It was something he hadn't tasted since he was a teen, but he thought a little nostalgia might help to work up his enthusiasm. He pulled on his tuxedo jacket, and as he examined himself in the mirror, he had to admit that his mother might have been right. Putting on the old monkey suit did seem to brighten things up a bit.

He plugged his iPod into his speakers and turned up D'Angelo, then stopped it and replaced him with Jay Z. He needed to be bold. He needed to be brash. He needed to get back to the man he'd been before this whole mess happened. The man who didn't give a fuck about anything but having a good time.

He made a plan. He would go to the party to make his mother happy, be sure that Hendy saw that he was there, and then go right back out and have his night on the town. The tuxedo could do double duty tonight. For the party, of course, but after he left, he could unbutton the top button of his shirt, untie the bow tie, and leave it dangling as bait for women in the bars. It was his experience that a little casual nonchalance went a long way when a man was wearing formal wear.

He tied his tie and fastened his cuff links, picked up his drink, and was ready to go.

He met his mother in the hallway.

“Very nice,” she said as she smoothed out the lapels on his jacket and fussed with his tie. She was wearing a long black dress with a silver sequined jacket over it and diamonds at her throat, ears, and wrists. “You look
muy guapo
.”

As they came down the stairs, she turned her attention to Alejandro, who was waiting for them. “Oh, you look wonderful as well,
hijo
. Is that a new suit?”

Alejandro smiled. “Georgia picked it out.”

Pilar turned to her daughter-in-law. “
Ay
, nice work,
chiquita
.”

Georgia, who was wearing pink silk and black diamonds, blushed, obviously pleased by Pilar's praise. “Oh, well, he looks good in anything.”

“Nobody will even look at me as long as I'm with you,
querida
,” said Alejandro to his wife.

“And you look lovely as well,
Mamá
,” said Sebastian. “Truly.”

Pilar beamed.

“So since we all look
fantástico
, shall we get going, then?” asked Alejandro. “I think we can all take one car if we like.”

Sebastian shook his head. No way was he getting caught in Palm Beach without his car. “I'll take my car and meet you guys there.”

Pilar shot him a questioning look.

“What? Georgia and Jandro will need to get back early for Tomás. What if I want to stay late? Or what if
you
want to stay late, for that matter,
Mamá
? What if you meet a tall, dark, and mysterious man?”

She snorted, but then grudgingly nodded with a tiny smile on her face.

“Fine, then,” said Seb. “I will see you lovely ladies—and my equally handsome
hermano
—at the party in a few minutes.”

And before they could answer, he was walking out the door, whistling and feeling unaccountably cheerful.

T
he house felt familiar to Kat. Unlike the old-world glamour of the Del Campo home, this place was pure Rat Pack nostalgia. A sleek, masculine, early sixties ranch so tastefully done that there wasn't even the slightest hint of camp. Half the successful young directors of Hollywood had houses like this—all glass and gleaming, polished stone, filled with expensive plastic and metal midcentury furniture—but they couldn't hope to touch this level of authenticity. If Frank Sinatra himself had strolled up with Ava Gardner hanging off his arm, Kat didn't think she would have batted an eye.

“Who did you say owns this place?” she said to Camelia as they gazed out onto a lanai that overlooked a perfect kidney-shaped pool.

Camelia gripped her arm. “Okay, please, please don't kill me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“So, I was at the barn a couple of weeks ago, and I walked in at just the right moment when Hendy was inviting Alejandro to this party—”

“Wait, what?” Kat's heart started to race.

“And grooms never get invited to these things, but Hendy is super polite, so when he saw me and realized I'd overheard them, he got all gentlemanlike and asked me along as well.”

“Camelia—”

“And I know it's the last place you want to be, and yes, Sebastian will probably show up, but maybe that's not the worst thing in the world, right? Maybe deep down, you might actually want to see him?”

“Damn it, Camelia!”

Camelia tightened her grip on Kat's arm. “Kat, Skye is getting older. He won't be able to compete in a few more years. And let's face it, I'm getting older, too. There are potential sponsors at these things, Katy Ann. Aging people who still want a little piece of the glory. People who are willing to trade grooming work for training. People who just love horses and might be willing to throw some money at me, you know?”

“So why do you need me?”

“I knew that I'd look like a total moron if I showed up alone and no one would talk to me, so I figured if I brought my friend—who just happens to be a big Hollywood director—”

“God. Come on, Cam.”

“I know,” she pleaded. “I'm a total asshole. But I had to take the opportunity. The Olympics aren't going to wait for me forever. And I know this is hard for you to understand, but I feel like I owe this to Skye. He deserves to show.”

“I'm leaving,” muttered Kat, disengaging herself from Camelia's death grip on her arm.

She turned on her heel and headed out the door and then stopped. A dark green Porsche had pulled up to the valet in front of the house.

“Damn it,” she swore and then retreated back in through the front door, where she was met by a relieved Camelia.

“I knew you wouldn't let me down,” Camelia said happily. “Besides, I'm your ride home.”

Kat kept walking. “Trust me, I didn't come back for you,” she said. “Now, help me find a place to hide.”

The party didn't look terrible, Sebastian decided, as he checked out the room. Hendy had surprisingly democratic taste in friends for an English lord. There was a good mix—not all horsey people and not all billionaires—and even though Sebastian was technically both, he appreciated the way Hendy liked to mix it up.

The music was good. Hendy had hired a small band to play torch numbers and swing, and the food and liquor would be top notch, of course. Sebastian relaxed as he wound his way through the crowd toward the bar that was set up on the lanai. Maybe he'd stay a little longer than he'd originally planned.

He was ordering himself another rum and Coke (he'd been amused to discover that he still liked the drink when he'd sampled it at home) when he saw Liberty Smith. In a floor-length shimmering dress that looked like molten sapphires had been poured over her curves, the movie star was standing alone by the pool, looking slightly bored.

This didn't surprise Sebastian. He had experienced enough celebrity to know that it was common to be at two extremes—either bombarded by attention and barely able to breathe or, in more rarified situations, completely abandoned because everyone had decided you were unapproachable.

He caught her eye and smiled, lifting his glass in salute. And after a brief moment, she smiled back.

Oof, thought Sebastian, there was a reason this woman's face lit up screens all over the world. She was like a tiny, exquisite piece of art. Her cascading waves of hair shifted from auburn to gold to butter, her skin seemed to emanate a soft peach glow from within, her eyes were huge and heavily lashed and almost violet in their blueness, and her body was unstoppable—all flares and curves and with a waist so small he was sure he could span it with his hands. And yet, in contrast, her smile was one of perfect sweetness and innocence. No wonder she had once been dubbed “the girl you
wish
lived next door.”

Sebastian knew her story because everyone knew her story. She'd been raised in poverty by a single father in a small town in South Dakota. Her dad had died when she was a teen, and she had run away from abusive foster parents and hitchhiked her way to L.A., determined to become a star. Then, in the very first audition she had walked into, she'd been cast in the lead role. She was the queen of romantic comedies from then on.

She'd married three times. The first time to another up-and-coming actor whom she divorced after meeting her second husband, the lead singer of a popular rock band, and the third time when she met her current husband, billionaire and financier David Ansley, while she was still married to the rock star.

Her last movie, Sebastian remembered, had been a bomb. No one was really watching those old-fashioned romantic comedies anymore, and there had been a murmuring in the press that maybe she was finally past her prime.

She walked over to him, a trace of that sweet smile still on her lips, and placed her hand on his arm. “You're Sebastian Del Campo, right?” Her voice was soft and girlish and was filled with a shimmer of nascent laughter. “I've seen you play.”

Kat felt sick as she watched Sebastian smile down at Liberty Smith. She had retreated to a table in a dark corner of the patio and blown the candles out around her for good measure. Camelia had left her there to troll the party for sponsors, and Kat had figured that she would wait until the coast was clear and then leave before Sebastian ever knew she'd been there.

But then he'd walked onto the lanai, looking devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, and Kat's heart had skipped a beat. For a moment, she wondered how she could have been so stupid. Here was this gorgeous, funny, horrendously sexy man, who had only wanted to help her make her dreams come true—and she had insulted him, refused to trust his good intentions, and driven him away. She'd been a fool.

She wanted him back, at least for the night, and she was just working up the nerve to stand up and tell him so when the most famous movie star in the world had walked over, put her hand on Sebastian's arm, and turned her big, dreamy violet eyes up at him.

Kat couldn't hear what they were talking about, but it was easy enough to read between the lines. It was an open secret in Hollywood that Liberty's billion-dollar marriage was not exactly based upon trust and fidelity, and from the way she was smiling up at Sebastian, Kat didn't think they were discussing the weather.

Take your hand off of him
, she willed,
just take your hand off of him and walk away. No harm, no foul.

But instead, Liberty took a step closer and then threw her head back and laughed.

For a moment, Kat almost got to her feet. She fantasized about racing over, inserting herself between them, and pushing the smaller woman into the pool. Then she would take Sebastian's arm and they would march out of this party together, never looking back at the irate movie star bobbing in the water.

She smiled at the image, willing herself to go through with it, willing herself to fight for the man that she had fallen in love with.

Fallen in love.

God. She hadn't realized. She hadn't been able to admit it to herself until this very moment. She loved Sebastian. She was in love with him.

Her smile got wider, and a warmth thrilled through her. She had never felt this way before. She'd been in relationships, she'd been fairly content with other men, she'd even considered making things more permanent once or twice—but it had never been like this. It had never felt like it was…
everything
.

But then, her heart plummeted. Because Liberty finally took her hand off Sebastian's arm, but it was only so she could tuck herself under his other one, and then they turned their backs on Kat and walked out of the party together.

Kat stared, numb, as they disappeared into the crowd. After a moment, there was a hand on her shoulder.

“I saw them,” whispered Camelia. She looked truly upset for Kat. “Come on.” She pulled Kat to her feet. “Let's go get a drink.”

Kat took another shot of tequila. “You know what?” she slurred to Camelia. “Maybe it doesn't matter that the man I only just now frigging realized that I love left the party with the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe it was destiny.”

Camelia nodded seriously and took another shot herself. “You could be right. Maybe the man you're really meant to be with is at this very party right now. And if that beautiful, beautiful, beautiful movie star hadn't stolen your other man, you would never meet him.”

Kat gazed fuzzily around. “You think so? Really? Which one is the guy I'm really supposed to be with?”

Camelia shrugged and drank again. “I dunno. They're all kind of starting to look the same to me at this point.”

Kat nodded. “It's a lot of tuxedoes, isn't it? Like a herd of fancy waiters.”

“Wait, I take that back,” said Camelia, squinting into the distance. “Change of plans. I think I just saw the guy
I
was meant to be with.”

“What about finding a sponsor?”

Camelia shrugged. “At this point, I think I'd rather get laid.”

Kat flourished her hand in a dramatic gesture of farewell. “By all means, then go, my friend. Go out and find satisfaction! I shall be here. Drinking.”

Camelia headed off across the room as Kat turned to order another shot.

“I don't know if that is the best idea,
hija
,” said a strangely familiar voice.

Kat turned back around and groaned. Pilar Del Campo, drinking a martini and dripping with diamonds, stood in front of her with an amused look on her face.

“Oh man,” said Kat. “Seriously?”

Pilar laughed. “How about a glass of champagne, at least? I think another shot of tequila might be
el fin
for you.”

Kat drunkenly considered this for a moment. “Okay. Based on your jewelry, you look like you probably know about things like champagne, so I'm going to take your advice.”

Pilar ordered for her. “A glass of the sparkling rosé for my friend,
por favor
.” She held the flute of shimmering pink liquid up to the light and sighed happily before handing it to Kat. “How can one not be joyful looking at such a sight?”

Kat tipped her drink and felt the bubbles sparking on her tongue. “It's good,” she agreed.

Pilar sipped her martini. “So,” she said, “I think you broke my son's heart.”

Kat's head snapped around. “I did what?”

“Sebastian. I think you broke his heart.”

Kat thought about this, trying to pierce the fog of alcohol currently dimming her brain, and then shook her head. “No,” she said slowly, “I'm fairly certain I did not. And either way, I don't think it's a very good idea for me to be talking to you about your son at this exact moment. Or maybe ever, really.”

Pilar nodded and took another sip of her drink. “Fair enough.”

They watched the crowd together for a moment.

“It's funny,” said Pilar, “but I met my Carlito at a party very much like this.”

“Yeah?” said Kat.

“Yes, but it was after a game, so Carlos was still wearing his uniform. Jodhpurs. They still wore jodhpurs back then.
Muy sexy.
Very tight. Much better than the white jeans they wear now.” She sighed. “Did Sebastian mention his father to you at all?”

Kat started to shake her head and then stopped. “Oh, wait, yes, he did. I believe he said he was an asshole.”

Pilar's eyes widened, but then a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “An apt description, I suppose. He was an asshole. But
ay
, he was so handsome. Maybe even more handsome than my boys.”

Kat raised her eyebrows. “I find that hard to imagine.”

“It was so good in the beginning. But then, after Alejandro was born, Carlos started cheating. And no matter what I did, he kept cheating. He cheated on me until the day he died.”

Kat met her eyes. “I'm sorry.”

Pilar shrugged. “Eh, what can one do? We were meant to be.”

Kat blinked. “But how can you say that when he made you so unhappy?”

Pilar drank. “Who said that finding your soul mate necessarily means you will be happy, eh?”

Kat laughed.

Pilar leaned back against the bar. “I like you,
hija
.”

Kat smiled. “Pilar?”

“¿Sí?”

“Let's say I did do to Sebastian what you said I did?”

“Broke his heart?”

“Yes. That. If I did do that, does that mean you're going to fire my mother?”

Pilar looked shocked. “
Ay
, no. Are you
loca
? I would never fire Corinne. In fact,” she said, laughing, “I should probably give her a raise. I think having his heart broken might be good for the boy.” She shot a look at Kat. “Don't tell your mother I said that. About the raise, I mean.”