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Authors: Dorothy Howell

BOOK: Tote Bags and Toe Tags
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Ty drove us in his way-hot Porsche to the way-hot Hollywood entertainment district. By day, thousands of tourists flocked to Hollywood and Highland to see the stars on the Walk of Fame, stick their feet into the concrete footprints outside Grauman's Chinese Theatre, snap pics, and point to famous landmarks before hitting the great stores and shops. At night, the mood changed as the crowd shifted a few blocks east to take in a play at the Pantages or squeeze into the trendy bars and restaurants.
“Let's have a drink before dinner,” Ty suggested, as he left his Porsche with the valet in front of the totally hip W Hotel.
At the rooftop lounge, we ordered wine and relaxed on white overstuffed couches surrounded by lanterns and candles, potted palms and flowers. Soft music played in the background. Ty asked about my day—which was weird—and didn't tell me about his—which was even weirder. The sun went down and the lights of L.A. spread out around us like gleaming jewels on a Judith Leiber evening bag.
Wow, I didn't know how the evening could get any more perfect.
“Ready for dinner?” Ty asked, as we finished up our third glass of wine.
We held hands as we rode in the elevator. I hadn't been here before but Ty must have been, because the maître d' smiled pleasantly as we walked up.
“Everything is as you requested, Mr. Cameron, in our private dining room,” he said.
Ty hooked my arm through his as we walked down the corridor to the dining room. Inside, the lights were low, candles burned, flowers were everywhere. All the tables were already filled and—oh my God, my mom and dad were there. How weird was that? Then I spotted my sister and her boyfriend sitting nearby. Wow, what a coincidence. My gaze jumped from table to table. Ty's mom and dad were here, and so were his grandparents.
I got a weird feeling in my stomach.
At another table sat Marcie and some of our other friends. Then I saw a bunch of my mom and dad's friends, and more of our relatives.
I got a really weird feeling now.
I looked up at Ty. “What the—”
Suddenly the band at the opposite end of the dining room broke into a strange song. No way could you dance to it. It sounded more like a march, maybe, or a—
Oh my God.
Oh my God
. It was that song that was always played at graduation ceremonies.
Along one wall hung a huge banner that read CONGRATULATIONS, HALEY! Then two waiters wheeled in a giant cake with sparklers burning, decorated with a diploma and graduation cap on it. Everybody seated at the tables broke into applause.
Oh, crap.
C
HAPTER
2
“W
hy didn't you
call me
?” I all but screamed at Marcie.
“Shh,” she hissed.
We were in the ladies' room where I'd dashed as soon as Ty finished his speech about how proud everybody was of my graduation from UM—and he didn't mean University of Mixology—and the applause had died down. Marcie had followed, as a best friend would.
I glanced around and didn't see any of my friends or family, then said, “I can't believe you didn't warn me.”
“I didn't know what was going on until I got here,” Marcie told me. “Ty kept it a secret.”
“You should have called me as soon as you found out,” I insisted.
“I tried—a million times. You didn't pick up,” Marcie said.
So that was why Ty wanted us to turn off our phones. Am I an idiot or what? He didn't want the evening to be about just us—he knew Marcie would call me and ruin his surprise party.
“You can't let everyone think you got your BA from Michigan when you really didn't,” Marcie said. “You have to tell them the truth.”
Marcie was almost always right. But not this time.
“No way.
No way
,” I said. “Ty would look like a complete idiot—and so would everybody else who showed up here tonight. And I would look like the biggest idiot of all.”
“What are you going to tell people when they discover the truth?” Marcie asked.
“Nobody is going to find out.”
Jeez, I really hope nobody is going to find out.
“Haley, everybody in that room thinks you just earned a business degree,” Marcie said, sounding way too sensible to suit me at the moment. “What are they going to think when you get a job bartending?”
“I'll tell them I plan to open a bar and that I'm doing research.”
Marcie didn't say anything and I could see she was thinking it over.
“You can't accept the gifts,” she said.
Gifts? There were gifts?
“It wouldn't be right,” Marcie said.
The image of a table sitting near the buffet piled high with beautifully wrapped gifts surfaced in my mind. They hadn't even registered when I'd walked in—
that's
how upsetting this whole thing was.
Then a fantastic thought zapped my brain. Maybe one of them was the Temptress handbag. Oh, wow, that would be so cool. It was the “it” bag of the season—well, the moment, anyway. My spirits lifted as the image of that gorgeous bag floated through my mind. I'd seen it in all the fashion magazines this month. Getting that bag would be the saving grace to this whole ordeal.
“Haley.” Marcie called my name in that singsong way she has, the one she uses when she thinks I need to be reeled in.
I hate being reeled in.
“I can't refuse the gifts. Everybody would know something was up if I did,” I said. “Trust me, after tonight, nobody is going to remember whether I have a college degree or not. Why would they?”
We walked out of the restroom together and I spotted Ty waiting. Beyond him, down the corridor, I heard the murmur of my friends and family in the dining room.
“I have a great surprise,” he said.
Jeez, I didn't think I could take another of his surprises tonight.
“Haley, now that you have your BA, I want you to come to work at the Holt's corporate office,” Ty said.
I stopped, too stunned to move. Ty wanted me to come to work at the Holt's corporate office? In the same building where he worked? Where I could see him every day and we could have lunch together, and drinks after work? And everybody would know I was his girlfriend and be jealous?
I mean, it's not like I didn't have mad skills. Last year I'd worked for the Pike Warner law firm—long story—so I knew all about the corporate environment. I was great at delegating and dressing for success, not to mention disseminating office gossip.
“Oh, Ty, that would be awesome!” I threw myself against him and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Hey, you two, get a room,” I heard someone say.
I turned and saw Sarah Covington standing in the hallway watching us. What the heck was she doing here? I hate her. This was
my
party. Who invited her?
Damn. It must have been Ty.
“I was just telling Haley how I want her to come to work at the corporate office,” Ty said.
“Oh?”
The word just hung there, like a loose button on a YSL skirt, annoying and sure to cause trouble at some point.
“Ty, could I speak with you for a moment?” Sarah asked.
She turned and walked down the corridor. Ty followed. At the end of the hallway, he leaned down and listened while she talked, and talked, and talked, and talked. Jeez, did she
ever
shut up? Finally, Ty nodded and the two of them walked back.
“Sarah has a good point,” Ty said. “It would look bad if you came to work at the corporate office since we're ... involved.”
What? Sarah had told Ty I shouldn't come to work with him? And he'd gone along with it?
I hate her.
“But don't worry, Haley,” Sarah said. “After I learned that you'd graduated, I took the liberty of speaking with a friend of mine who works for a wonderful company. I've arranged an interview for you. It's tomorrow. Just a formality, really. I put in a good word for you.”
“Isn't that great, Haley?” Ty said.
Oh my God. How could I refuse with them double-teaming me?
“Yeah, that's really great, Sarah,” I said.
Bitch.
 
It was a Louis Vuitton day. Definitely a Louis Vuitton day.
I parked in the lot off Fig and made my way up the block to the bank building where Marcie worked. It was a gorgeous Southern California day. Lots of sunshine, warm breezes, swaying palms. I was meeting her for lunch before my interview with the company Sarah had set me up with. I was still way ticked off over the whole thing, but I hadn't been able to confront Ty about it last night after he'd thrown that graduation party for me—not that he'd have listened anyway.
It was lunch time and the sidewalks were crowded. I spotted Marcie and waved as she walked out of the bank building. She waved back.
Marcie was the best BFF ever. I wouldn't have made it through last night and this morning without her. She'd kept me from putting the smack down on Sarah Covington for sabotaging my chance to work with Ty at the Holt's corporate office. Then this morning she'd called early and made sure I updated my résumé and e-mailed it to the human resources department. She'd asked what I intended to wear, of course.
“Awesome,” Marcie declared as she took in the black Michael Kors suit I had on.
It was a relic from a bygone era, way back last fall when I'd worked at Pike Warner. I styled it this morning with a power-red scarf and three-inch heels, and teamed them with my Louis Vuitton bag so the gals in H.R. would know up front who they were dealing with.
“That really was a killer party Ty threw for you last night,” Marcie said as we made our way up the street.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. It was. Even though Ty had probably had his personal assistant find a venue, select the menu, arrange for the band, contact all my friends and family, and swear them to secrecy—he'd at least thought of it. Plus, he'd actually been there—not something that always happens with our dates.
“You're still ticked off about the job, aren't you?” Marcie said. “Not that I blame you, of course.”
“I need a Starbucks,” I said.
Marcie frowned. “What about your new lifestyle? No more frappuccinos?”
I threw her a not-even-a-best-friend-could-stop-me-now look. She interpreted it immediately and crossed at the corner with me.
“So what's the story on the company Sarah set you up with?” Marcie asked, as we went inside Starbucks and got in line.
Last night I'd been majorly ticked at Ty for letting Sarah derail my employment at the Holt's corporate office. She'd blabbed on and on about the company. I'd drifted off, picturing her as a rag doll and me sticking pins in her.
“Some place called Dempsey Rowland,” I said. “I looked them up on the Internet this morning.”
Marcie thought for a minute. “Never heard of them. What do they do?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “I just looked up their address.”
“I can't take a whole hour for lunch today,” Marcie said. “Let's just grab something here.”
We got sandwiches and I ordered a venti mocha frappuccino with extra whipped cream and a double shot of chocolate—
that's
how upset I was about this whole job thing—and found a table by the window.
“Look on the bright side,” Marcie said.
I didn't want to look on the bright side. I was in no mood.
“You'll make a lot of money,” she said.
Hmm. Wow. I would. I'd been so upset about Ty caving to Sarah's wishes—again—I hadn't even thought about that.
My spirits lifted a little.
“Plus, you'll need all new clothes,” Marcie said. “We can go shopping.”
My spirits lifted a little higher.
“And,” Marcie said. She leaned in a little so I knew this was going to be something great. “You can quit your job at Holt's.”
I shot straight up in my chair. My eyes bugged out. My mouth flew open. I grabbed the sides of the table to keep from launching myself into the ceiling.
“You're
right
.” I think I yelled that.
Oh my God. How could I have been so upset over Sarah Covington that I hadn't realized what the new job really meant?
I've seriously got to get a hold on my life.
Then, my future rolled out in front of me like models streaming down a Milan runway.
No more crappy sales clerk job. No more annoying customers. No more unreasonable store management. My own desk. A huge salary. New clothes whenever I want them. Fabulous new handbags—oh my God, I could get that awesome Temptress bag. I could get a new car—a BMW. I could move to a bigger apartment—or maybe buy a condo near the beach. I could actually tell my mom where I worked and she'd be proud of me. Oh my God
. Oh my God.
“I've got to go,” I said, jumping up from my chair.
I wanted to be early—way early—for my interview, to show them how conscientious I was, how dedicated I'd be, and what a perfect employee I'd make. And besides, I needed to brush up on my résumé and remember what I'd put on it. Yeah, okay, I'd stretched the truth a bit, but who doesn't? It's expected, really.
“Good luck,” Marcie called as I slurped down the last of my frappuccino and ran out the door.
 
By the time I got to the office building, I'd spent my first three paychecks, in my head. No need to rehearse my take-this-job-and-shove-it speech for the manager of the Holt's store; I'd had it down since the second hour of the very first day I'd worked there.
The Dempsey Rowland Company was located in a high-rise building on Figueroa Street, just a couple of blocks from the bank building where Marcie worked and the Holt's offices where Ty worked. Great location for coordinating future lunches.
The lobby looked sleek and contemporary with lots of polished black marble on the floor and walls, and several chic-looking water features. I dashed into the restroom, checked my hair—I'd gone with a conservative updo that screamed take-me-seriously—and freshened my makeup.
I checked my phone. Ty hadn't called or texted. Jeez, you'd think he would on a big occasion like this. I was his official girlfriend, after all.
I went into the lobby again. Two guards in gray uniforms sat behind a big reception desk. I gave my name. One guy checked the computer while the other one eyed me, which was kind of weird, then finally I got a badge with VISITOR on it, which I clipped to the lapel of my suit jacket. Not a favorite fashion accessory of mine, but what could I do?
I took the elevator up to the fifth floor. The doors opened and a woman in a navy blue business suit approached as I stepped out. She was in her fifties, I guessed, neat, clean, and composed.
“Miss Randolph? I'm Adela Crosby, human resources,” she said, smiling. “Please follow me.”
Oh, wow, this was so cool. I had a personal escort. They must have had a really important position in mind for me.
My annual salary grew larger in my head.

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