kitchen. She’d known a lot of pretty boys like Patrick. Out-of-work actors, supported by lame jobs and gullible girls. She used to be one of those girls. “I know he’s a parasite who uses women with low expectations and can’t be trusted.” Which just proved that smart women like Sarah, and like herself, too, could be dumb when it came to men. “I need you here with me.” This day had started off crappy and the last thing she needed was a total shit storm between her and Sarah. Especially in front of Nonnie.
Again Vivien heard the front door open and close and within in seconds, Henry appeared behind her assistant. Great, the second to the last thing she needed was another Whitley-Shuler spectator. “You have to stay.”
“I can’t.”
Henry balanced a big white cake in one hand and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head with the other. He stopped in the doorway and his gaze met Vivien’s over the top of Sarah’s blonde head. “I need to finish my morning Starbucks before I can deal with this,” she said as her hand found the front of her robe to make sure it was closed. At the moment, Vivien had bigger problems than Henry’s sudden appearance, and she returned her attention to her assistant. “We forgot to pack underwear, and I don’t have a dress. You need to find me a black dress.”
“I need Patrick.”
“I need underwear.”
“I can’t stay.”
“I can’t walk into the mall and buy a dress, Sarah. Not without security.”
“I won’t lose Patrick.”
“You should. He’s a loser.”
“Ladies,” Nonnie interrupted. “I’ll make sure you get clothing, Vivien.”
Vivien looked into Sarah’s determined face and knew she was leaving, with or without her job. “Fine.” Sarah could be a pain in the butt, but she was a good assistant, for the most part. It would take months to find and train someone new. Someone loyal who she could trust not to leak information about her private life to the tabloids. “Go home and work from L.A. It will probably be easier anyway.” Vivien could manage by herself. She hadn’t made her own appointments, called a car service, or carried her own bags in years, but she was certainly capable.
“Thank you.” Sarah quickly fished her phone from her tote and promptly ordered the cab that had just dropped her off to return. “I’ll grab my stuff and book my flight while I’m on the way to the airport.” She disconnected and adjusted the notebook in the crook of her arm. “Patrick loves me,” she said in the way women had of excusing men while trying to convince themselves as well as everyone else. “He’s a really good guy.”
“He’s a man skank. He’ll sleep with your Spanish neighbor, your Korean best friend, and the Russian girl around the block like he’s a foreign-relations operative. Then if you make a name for yourself, he’ll sell a story about you to the
Enquirer
.” Vivien waved her hand across the air in front of her. It wouldn’t even matter if the story was true. “Go.”
Sarah turned and almost collided with the three-layer coconut cake Henry held in his hands.
“Whoa there.” Henry fought to balance the glass plate in front of his chest. A few slivers of coconut fell to the floor, and just when it looked like he might win, the cake tipped and fell into his black polo shirt. “Damn.”
“Sorry.” Sarah sucked white frosting off the side of her hand and breezed past him.
He looked down at the cake lying against his shirt then brought his gaze back to Vivien. “She must belong to you.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” Vivien lowered her hands to the silk belt of her robe and once again made sure it was still closed around her. “She’s young and thinks she’s in love.”
Nonnie stepped forward and took the cake from Henry’s hands and carried it to the table. “Youth is no excuse for bad manners. She wasn’t raised right.”
Henry stared down at the patch of white frosting and coconut on his shirt. “Ms.
Again Vivien heard the front door open and close and within in seconds, Henry appeared behind her assistant. Great, the second to the last thing she needed was another Whitley-Shuler spectator. “You have to stay.”
“I can’t.”
Henry balanced a big white cake in one hand and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head with the other. He stopped in the doorway and his gaze met Vivien’s over the top of Sarah’s blonde head. “I need to finish my morning Starbucks before I can deal with this,” she said as her hand found the front of her robe to make sure it was closed. At the moment, Vivien had bigger problems than Henry’s sudden appearance, and she returned her attention to her assistant. “We forgot to pack underwear, and I don’t have a dress. You need to find me a black dress.”
“I need Patrick.”
“I need underwear.”
“I can’t stay.”
“I can’t walk into the mall and buy a dress, Sarah. Not without security.”
“I won’t lose Patrick.”
“You should. He’s a loser.”
“Ladies,” Nonnie interrupted. “I’ll make sure you get clothing, Vivien.”
Vivien looked into Sarah’s determined face and knew she was leaving, with or without her job. “Fine.” Sarah could be a pain in the butt, but she was a good assistant, for the most part. It would take months to find and train someone new. Someone loyal who she could trust not to leak information about her private life to the tabloids. “Go home and work from L.A. It will probably be easier anyway.” Vivien could manage by herself. She hadn’t made her own appointments, called a car service, or carried her own bags in years, but she was certainly capable.
“Thank you.” Sarah quickly fished her phone from her tote and promptly ordered the cab that had just dropped her off to return. “I’ll grab my stuff and book my flight while I’m on the way to the airport.” She disconnected and adjusted the notebook in the crook of her arm. “Patrick loves me,” she said in the way women had of excusing men while trying to convince themselves as well as everyone else. “He’s a really good guy.”
“He’s a man skank. He’ll sleep with your Spanish neighbor, your Korean best friend, and the Russian girl around the block like he’s a foreign-relations operative. Then if you make a name for yourself, he’ll sell a story about you to the
Enquirer
.” Vivien waved her hand across the air in front of her. It wouldn’t even matter if the story was true. “Go.”
Sarah turned and almost collided with the three-layer coconut cake Henry held in his hands.
“Whoa there.” Henry fought to balance the glass plate in front of his chest. A few slivers of coconut fell to the floor, and just when it looked like he might win, the cake tipped and fell into his black polo shirt. “Damn.”
“Sorry.” Sarah sucked white frosting off the side of her hand and breezed past him.
He looked down at the cake lying against his shirt then brought his gaze back to Vivien. “She must belong to you.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” Vivien lowered her hands to the silk belt of her robe and once again made sure it was still closed around her. “She’s young and thinks she’s in love.”
Nonnie stepped forward and took the cake from Henry’s hands and carried it to the table. “Youth is no excuse for bad manners. She wasn’t raised right.”
Henry stared down at the patch of white frosting and coconut on his shirt. “Ms.
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