Runaway (Airhead #3) (14 page)

Christopher shrugged. “It makes more sense than anything else.”

It was right then that the door to the bathroom opened and Lulu and Nikki came out.

Or at least, it had to have been Nikki. Because that’s who Lulu had gone into the bathroom with.

But the girl with whom she emerged looked completely different. She had wavy dark hair, instead of Nikki’s flat auburn hair, and a glowing complexion instead of Nikki’s dead-looking, over-foundationed skin.

And there was a bounce to her step I’d never noticed in Nikki’s before. She had on a flowy black empire-waist top and a pair of leggings that suited her figure perfectly.

Her step wasn’t the only place where there was bounce, either.

“Geez,” the girl said rudely, when she saw us staring at her. And by us, I mean mostly Christopher and Gabriel, though Steven and I were a bit slack-jawed as well. “Take a picture, why don’tcha. It’ll last longer.”

Okay. So it
was
Nikki, after all.

“Nikki,” I said, feeling slightly dumbfounded. “You look… great.”

“Chokers are so 2005,” Nikki said, fingering the silver skull and crossbones on a black velvet ribbon at her throat. Did she really think we were only looking at the choker? “Which is what I told Lulu. But for some reason, this one works.”

“The whole thing works,” Gabriel said. I noticed he was holding a forkful of pad see ew frozen halfway to his mouth. He sounded slightly out of breath.

“I figure no one from her past life will recognize her,” Lulu said, giving one of Nikki’s new curls a pat, “in her new body like this.”

“You can say that again,” Christopher said.

I elbowed him, hard. “Oof,” he said, and quickly closed his mouth after giving me a slightly devilish grin.

Gabriel, however, continued to stare.

“It’s very retro,” he ventured.

“Yes,” Lulu said, glancing meaningfully around at Gabriel’s decor. “Isn’t it?”

Sixteen

WHEN I WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, I wasn’t in bed alone.

I don’t mean just Cosabella, either.

Or, unfortunately, Christopher.

There was a five-foot-nine agent in a silk eggplant-colored jacket and skirt sitting on the edge of my mattress, texting madly, her hosed legs crossed and one Jimmy Choo bouncing up and down on the end of her toes.

When she noticed my eyes were open, Rebecca paused, her thumbs hovering over her BlackBerry, and said, “Finally. I thought you were never going to wake up. Did you take a full ten mils of Ambien or something? You should really cut back to the fives. Well, are you going to get out of bed, or what? We have loads to do, Nikki, and we don’t really have all day. Get a move on.”

Then she went back to texting.

This really wasn’t how I’d dreamed of starting the morning. In my fantasies, I’d planned on waking with a hunky— albeit slightly villainous— eleventh grader between my sheets.

But I’d been unable to lure Christopher up to my apartment after we’d stopped by Gabriel’s, since he’d decided to go back to his cousin Felix’s to continue working on the Project Phoenix conundrum.

There was also the small matter of his continued disgust over my “trust issues.”

You know if a teenage boy turns down an invitation to a single girl’s apartment, it’s bad. Really bad. The guy really must hate my guts. What was I going to do to convince him that I trusted him, already?

My relationship problems weren’t exactly putting me in the mood for an early morning visitation from my agent.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Rebecca as I dragged a pillow over my head, disturbing Cosabella, who’d been sleeping soundly until I did this. Some watchdog she was. Robert Stark could have sent twenty of his henchman in to kill me in my sleep, and she wouldn’t have done anything more than snort and roll over to make herself more comfortable.

“You have a big day today,” Rebecca said, still punching her tiny keyboard. “The party at Robert Stark’s. And then the Stark Angel lingerie show tonight.
Live,
in case you don’t remember. It’s New Year’s Eve. The diamond bra? Your big television debut? A billion potential viewers? And let’s just say you haven’t been among my most
reliable
clients lately. All this running away to pop off onto private jets and to people’s beachside compounds. I wanted to make sure you got up on time to get your hair and makeup and fittings done.” She flicked a glance down at me. “Your roots are showing. And how long has it been since you had your cuticles trimmed? Your nails are a mess. And when was the last time you waxed
down there?
Need I remind you that you’re practically wearing a thong on national television tonight? Really, what was that thing with Brandon Stark down in South Carolina? Not that I don’t applaud your initiative. He’s a wealthy boy. But can’t you get him to buy a house somewhere close by? The Hamptons? All your
people
are up here, darling.”

I knew what she meant by
people.
My hair people. My nail people. My waxer. My facialist. My stylist. My nutritionist. My trainer. My publicist. My agent. It takes a village to make someone look as good as Nikki Howard. It would be wrong to think she looked as good as she did
naturally.
I mean, there were some genetics involved, but teamwork (and Photoshop) had a lot to do with it, too.

But the one part of being at Brandon’s that had been kind of nice was that for once, I hadn’t been surrounded by all those people. I’d just been…well, me again.

For a change.

I lay there, not moving. Who had let Rebecca in? Karl, the doorman? Because he knew her so well? Well, Karl and I were going to have words. Because this was unacceptable.

Lulu? I highly doubted it. Why wouldn’t she have woken me up to tell me Rebecca was lurking around? This was so not like Lulu…and so not how I’d wanted to begin my day. I’d wanted to lie around, hugging the memory of Christopher kissing me so roughly in the cab (why couldn’t I rewind time and go back to that moment and do it all again, only right, so we didn’t fight afterward?).

Except I couldn’t. Because Rebecca was leaning over and smacking my butt.

“Get up! And be sure to eat a big breakfast. And lunch. I don’t care if you show a little turn on TV tonight, I can’t have you passing out on me again, like you did at the Megastore opening. No hypoglycemia today. Work! Work, work, work!”

Rebecca got up and teetered out of my room in her insanely high heels.

“The car’s coming to pick you up for the Stark party at seven,” she bellowed. “Be here, or I’ll chop you into little bits and feed you to the other models I represent. Believe me, they’re hungry enough to eat up every little bite.”

She clip-clopped out of the room. A few seconds later, I heard the elevator doors opening, and her stepping into it, talking loudly on her cell phone.

“What?” she was saying. “No, not the python. I said the lizard skin. Can’t anyone follow simple instructions anymore? What is wrong with the world?”

Sighing, I got out of bed, Cosabella darting quickly after me because morning is when she gets her first bowl of food of the day (I have no idea how Cosabella eats so much and stays so thin. Possibly it’s because she never stops moving, except when she drops off into an exhausted sleep on my neck at night).

As I opened Cosabella’s can in the kitchen, I wondered if Christopher and Felix had made any progress trying to figure out what Project Phoenix was. Obviously, I was going to do as much snooping as I could when I got to Robert Stark’s Upper East Side town house. But it would have been nice to have some clue what I was supposed to be snooping for.

I was scooping some of Cosy’s nasty-smelling food into her bowl when I heard a sound and straightened up, only to see a very large, almost naked male figure sneaking out of Lulu’s room.

I screamed as loudly as I could, causing Cosy to jump about a foot in the air, and the male to shriek almost as loudly as I had.

“Em, it’s me!” the male cried, and when my eyes had had time to focus after they were done spinning around in circles of shock, I saw that it was, indeed, someone I knew.

Someone who was, in fact, Steven Howard, Nikki Howard’s brother.

In an undershirt, boxer shorts, and a pair of socks.

Coming out of Lulu’s bedroom! With his blond hair sticking up all wild, like he’d just woken up!

And now Lulu was coming out of her room right after him, wearing one of her fancy negligees and rubbing her eyes all sleepily, going, “Stevie? Is something wrong? I thought I heard screaming.”

Oh, no. No, I could not handle this. Not first thing in the morning (even though a glance at the clock on the microwave told me it was closer to noon than morning).

Steven and Lulu? I mean, I’d known she’d
wanted
it to happen —wanted it to happen more than anything— but…

“Oh, hi, Em,” Lulu said, giving me a drowsy smile. “I didn’t know you were home.”

But Steven was…well, he was…he was my
brother!

Wasn’t he? Maybe not technically, but—

Actually, yes, he was. Technically. This was so…so wrong. So gross. So…

…so typically Lulu.

“Steven spent the night,” Lulu said, like it was the most natural thing in the world, going over to the refrigerator and pulling it open. “We’re a couple now. What do you guys want for breakfast? Scrambled eggs? Steven likes his eggs scrambled, don’t you, Steven?”

Steven was standing there in his socks and underwear, turning bright, bright red.

But not as red as
I
could feel myself turning.

“Uh, hi, Em,” Steven was saying. He’d gone to sit behind the kitchen counter on one of the stools, so the fact that he was in his underwear wasn’t
quite
so apparent. “I’m really sorry about this. We didn’t know you were home. I, uh, checked the acoustic noise generator. It’s still working. There are no bugs in the loft. So we’re safe here.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” I said. I was glad I had on my flannel rainbow pajamas. They covered me from neck to foot.

“Steven and I are so in love,” Lulu said, smiling ecstatically as she piled eggs, butter, cheese, and cream next to the stove. “He told me he loved me after I gave Nikki her makeover yesterday. She looks so good now. She was so happy. She was really happy, wasn’t she, Stevie?”

“She was,” Steven said. He was still blushing. It was weird to see his cheeks turning the same color pink as my pajamas. “It was weird to see Nikki happy, for once.”

“She says she’s going to go to college,” Lulu said. “Business school. That was Gabriel’s idea. She and Gabriel get along weirdly well. When she isn’t calling him names. I wish she weren’t quite so abusive toward him, it’s not very nice. But I guess we can’t expect miracles. Oh, Em, are you all right?”

I think I was staring at them so hard, I’d forgotten to breathe. I closed my mouth shut with an audible snapping sound.

“Uh-huh,” I said, and nodded.

“Is it Steven and me?” Lulu asked, glancing over at Nikki’s brother, like she couldn’t understand why I was so surprised. “He said he was sorry for blurting out that he loved me, that it had just slipped,” Lulu went on, cracking some of the eggs into a bowl. “But I wouldn’t let him take it back. Would
I?”

Steven shook his head. “She wouldn’t,” he said.

“I knew he really meant it, and that we were meant to be together forever. Because I’m the future Mrs. Captain Steven Howard.” Lulu looked thoughtful as she switched on the coffeemaker. “Wow. Is it just me, or does that sound really hot? Mrs. Captain Steven Howard.” She glanced over at me and Steven. “I’m going to keep my maiden name for my albums, though, of course.”

I widened my eyes at Steven. Did he even know what he’d gotten himself into, I wondered?

He gave me a sheepish smile.

“What can I say?” He shrugged his broad, bare shoulders. “I love her.”

I shook my head in wonder. Stick a fork in him. Steven was
done.
Lulu had caught him, reeled him in, stuffed him, and served him up with a nice lemon-and-garlic sauce.

And he looked really happy about it, aside from the blushing thing.

“Wow, you guys, that’s so sweet,” I said, meaning it.

I wandered out of the kitchen and back into the living room, because I had a lot to do. Rebecca had left a list. Apparently, there was a stylist coming over with a selection of gowns for me to choose from to wear to Robert Stark’s party, not to mention my waxer— Katerina, who normally performed this service for Lulu and me, had apparently been pink-slipped…at least in the waxing department. Which was just as well. It was a bit odd to have the person who cleaned your toilet also waxing you— hairstylist, and nail people….

“You know what?” Lulu went on, making Steven a cup of coffee. “I never noticed before, but you two have the same color eyes. Robin’s-egg blue. That’s my favorite color. Both of you.” She turned from me to Steven with the dopiest smile I’d ever seen. “It’s like the sky is in your faces!”

Oh, wow. And I’d thought Steven had it bad? Lulu was done, too.

Was this what people who were in love were like? Maybe it was just as well Christopher and I couldn’t work things out. I didn’t want to become a zombiefied dope like those two.

The buzzer on the intercom went off. Still feeling a little dazed from my discovery, I wandered over to it and picked up the receiver. It was Karl, letting me know my first appointment had arrived…Salvatore, with the clothes.

I thanked him and said to send him up.

“Uh, guys,” I said, to Lulu and Steven. “My clothes guy is here.”

“Oooh,” Lulu said, going over to Steven and putting her arms around him. “Fashion show. Fun.”

I guess Steven really
was
my brother, because the sight of him snuggling with a girl— even a girl I really liked, such as Lulu— skeeved me as much as it would have skeeved me to see Frida making out with someone.

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. If you two could just hold off doing that until after I’ve had breakfast, that would be great.”

“Sorry,” Steven said, looking like he meant it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Em,” Lulu said, pulling her arms away from Steven like he’d electrocuted her. “I forgot you still haven’t found love like we have. I shouldn’t rub it in.”

“No,” I said. “I’ve found love, and everything. Christopher and I just still need to work out a few things.”

“Oh.” Lulu looked sad. “I feel so bad for you.”

“Yeah,” Steven said. “Do you want me to, I don’t know. Put him in a choke hold, or anything?”

I couldn’t help smiling at that.

“I don’t think that’s going to help,” I said. “But thanks. Maybe if you two went and put some more clothes on for when the guy comes? Because he’s going to be here any minute.”

They scooted out of the room— well, Steven stomped more than scooted, on account of his size— just as the elevator doors opened to reveal Salvatore carting a wheeled rack of dresses and gowns for Robert Stark’s party.

“Ciao, bella,” he said, kissing me on both cheeks. His assistant, a stick-thin woman with dark hair, began unzipping the garment bags to show me what was inside them.

“Very chic, this,” Salvatore said, fingering the sleeve of my pajamas. “I have seen in this month’s
Vogue,
yes?”

“Very funny,” I said. “Thanks for coming over. Would you like some coffee?”

Salvatore and his assistant did want coffee. And so, later, did the waxer, hairstylist, and their assistants when they showed up. And the nail tech and her assistant. I seemed to spend my entire day making cups of coffee— and sandwiches— for people, in between getting primped and styled for the evening’s command performance, and trying to avoid seeing Lulu and Steven with their tongues down each other’s throats.

This, however, proved harder to do than I thought, since they were kind of all over each other, and Steven wouldn’t go back to Gabriel’s place. Lulu made him stay to help pick out what I was wearing to Robert Stark’s party— a short, black, spangled dress by Dolce & Gabbana. Then she made him stay because she decided she wanted him to come to Robert Stark’s party as her escort.