Out of Practice

by Carsen Taite

  Roxanne nodded while she contemplated his assessment. He was right, of course, and what better use for this platform than to provide real, concrete assistance to the women who’d been loyal readers for the long haul? She glanced around to take in the situation. Brides to the left and the law firm to the right with the Barclay family inside, plotting their next move. Time to bridge the gap in whatever way she could.

  The door to the law firm opened and she nudged Jake’s arm. “Start rolling. We might have good footage on the way.” She waved at the crowd of brides and motioned toward the front of the law firm, smiling when they started up the “I do” chant again. She started walking toward the door, shoulders squared, ready to do whatever it took to show Best Day Ever she had what it took to dominate the wedding market, but she was barely three steps into her march when she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Abby standing in front of her with her hands on her hips.

  “What are you doing here?” Abby asked.

  Roxanne’s heart beat faster and her eyes locked on Abby’s kissable lips pursed into a frown. She wanted to ask the same thing, but words failed her as she had apparently lost the ability to speak or string together complete sentences. She motioned to Jake to stop filming, but he merely shook his head. Exasperated, she turned away from him and stepped closer to Abby. A rush of heat swept between them, but she told herself it was Abby’s obvious anger fueling the fire and not the simmering attraction that had once been full boil.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she said.

  Abby’s eyes narrowed. “This is my office. I belong here.” She gestured toward the crowd. “Are you really with these people?”

  Roxanne slowly digested the tidbit of information. Abby worked here. At this office. Was she? Could she be? She had to know. “You represent Barclay’s? Say it isn’t so.”

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  Roxanne crossed her heart. “Swear. I had no idea. How would I? No shop talk on the island, remember?” She watched as Abby’s eyes darkened the way they had when they’d made love. Made love. Roxanne shuddered and reframed the thought. They’d had sex. Excellent, mind-blowing sex, but that’s all it had been. “If you’d called, maybe we could’ve talked about current events, like how your clients are ruining the hopes and dreams of hundreds of women on the eve of their special day.”

  Abby cocked her head, looking puzzled for a second before her angry face returned. “If I hear the words ‘special day’ one more time, I’m going to blow. Exchanging jewelry, eating cake, and dancing the night away may make for a great party, but it doesn’t mean anything beyond that, especially when the percentage of couples who don’t actually make it far outweighs those who do. This”—she gestured again, but wildly this time to encompass the entire crowd—“this is a big show designed to convince people that if they spend enough money, they can guarantee future happiness, but the only guarantee they can really get is that they’ll wake up the morning after, legally bound to another person who probably doesn’t look as shiny and new anymore once they’re out of the wedding day spotlight.”

  Even through her anger at Abby’s tirade, Roxanne saw the pain in Abby’s eyes, and she almost forgot where she was and what she was doing long enough to pull Abby into her arms and hold her until the hurt subsided. But the camera was rolling, and her big break depended on turning moments like these into TV gold. Could she be that heartless? She looked over her shoulder and saw that the camera was still trained on them and every one of the BTBs was listening in.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  It took a moment, but the authoritative voice shook Roxanne from her dilemma. She looked up to see a policewoman standing beside Abby with a firm expression. “What seems to be the problem, Officer?” she asked, unable to resist the easy line.

  “Do you have a permit to be demonstrating on this property?”

  Damn. “I think you already know the answer, but just for the record, I do not.”

  “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” As the officer walked away, Roxanne leaned in close to Abby. “I can’t believe you called the police.”

  “Really? You can’t believe that a place of business, one that isn’t nor ever has sold bridal dresses, might not want to be mobbed by a bunch of angry brides.”

  “Brides-to-be.”

  Abby waved her off. “Whatever.”

  “Don’t whatever me. It makes a difference. Some of these women have been planning their…” she paused and then spoke with emphasis, “special day for a very long time. Just because it doesn’t mean anything to you doesn’t mean it’s not meaningful to them. Are you going to say that it’s just a dress? Because your clients have made their living off those dresses. But I guess they no longer care about the Barclay’s brand.” She clipped off her words as the cop walked back over.

  The cop pointed at the cameraman. “Obviously, you can be here to report on this, but I don’t think any one of us wants a scene, and these women don’t have permission to be here. Maybe you can do something to get them to move off this private property?” She lowered her voice. “I mean you’re the BBF, right?”

  Roxanne smiled brightly at the officer. “Yes, ma’am, I am.” She thought fast. “I might be inclined to ask these women to move if I could get an exclusive interview with the attorney for Barclay’s.” She turned to Abby and offered an even bigger smile. “What do you say, counselor?”

  * * *

  After she hustled the Barclays and Sam out the back door, Abby met Grace and Wynne in the conference room where they didn’t waste any time grilling her about her encounter with Roxanne.

  “Why exactly did you agree to an interview with a gossip columnist?” Grace asked.

  “She’s not a gossip columnist,” Abby said, knowing she wasn’t really answering the question.

  Grace folded her arms and shook her head. “Seems fraught with danger to me.”

  “Don’t say words like ‘fraught.’ It makes you sound like a little old lady.”

  “Don’t change the subject. I’d expect a crazy idea from Campbell, but you’re usually not this impulsive.” Grace glanced at Wynne who’d been sitting quietly up to this point. “Sorry.”

  Wynne shook her head. “Don’t tone things down on my account. It’s going to be really awkward working for you all part-time if you have to worry about how I’ll react any time you mention Campbell.”

  “Who’s mentioning me?” Campbell stuck her head in the door. “Are we having a meeting about the crazy wedding blogger and her herd of dressless brides?”

  “Brides-to-be,” Abby said before she caught herself. She saw Campbell arch an eyebrow. “Never mind. The point is we’ve got a problem.” She hesitated, but then decided it would be better to come clean now rather than later. “Make that two problems.”

  Campbell held up a finger. “Problem one.”

  “Problem one is these women aren’t going away,” Abby said. “The twins hired Sam Thedford to represent them and they are prepared to fight. They aren’t budging on keeping the stores closed, which leaves Tommy without a lot of options short of going to court to try to force them to act, and I don’t like our odds.”

  “Okay, we can discuss some other options. What’s problem two?”

  Abby paused. There were so many reasons why she didn’t want to share how she knew Roxanne. Embarrassment topped the list, but an underlying motivation was a desire to keep private the intimacy they’d shared back in fantasyland. If she talked about it now, all her happy memories would be sullied by the real world and the conflict facing them right now.

  But this was the real world and she owed her friends the truth. “You have to promise not to react.” She waited for a second as they all nodded. “Okay, so the BBF? She’s the woman from Puerto Vallarta.”

  “Private beach woman? Sexy, private beach woman?” Campbell exclaimed. “You weren’t kidding when you said she’s gorgeous. What are the chances she’d be leading a protest at your office?”

>   “Slim, but apparently the odds were stacked against me,” Abby replied.

  “Well, this seems easy,” Grace said. “You have the perfect in to ask her to back off. Invite her to dinner, reconnect over a couple of martinis, and smooth her over. You got this.”

  Abby nodded, wishing it were that easy. Martinis made her think of drinks, and for a second, she daydreamed she was back on the beach with Roxanne sipping fruity, umbrella-laden beverages while soaking up the sun and each other.

  But they weren’t on the beach anymore. This Roxanne was the one who’d left the resort, leading her to believe she was going home when in fact she was headed somewhere else on the island to have fun, probably with another unsuspecting tourist. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Abby,” Campbell cajoled, swiping away Wynne who was shaking her head. “It’ll be fine. I don’t know anyone more persuasive than you when it comes to pleading a case. Just get her to tone things down for a bit until you get things worked out between the Barclays. I predict the women will have their dresses in no time and everything will be back to normal. You never know, maybe you and the BBF can hook back up where you left off post-paradise.”

  Abby started to let the assumption stand, but she just couldn’t. “Things didn’t quite end on a happy note.” She paused for a second and then pressed on. “Roxanne was only at Azure for a few days. When she left, I thought she was headed home, but apparently, she had other rendezvous planned in PV. I saw her at the airport when we landed back in Austin.”

  Campbell nodded. “Okay, so you assume she left you to have a play date with someone else?”

  “I don’t know.” Abby felt silly for bringing it up. “I guess.”

  “Later we’ll talk about why you’re suddenly caring that a fling flaked on you, but right now you need to be all business and do some damage control. You got this?”

  Ugh. Now her friends thought she was upset because Roxanne had effectively dumped her. But aren’t you? She shoved away the thought. “Fine. I’ll give it a go, but I don’t want her to think this is a date. Because it’s not. Whatever happened in PV isn’t happening here.”

  “Fine, Ms. No Commitment,” Campbell said. “Get Graham to set up dinner like it’s a work meeting.”

  “You know if you post the fact you’re having a meeting with her on Leaderboard, your ranking is going to skyrocket,” Wynne chimed in. “The BBF is hugely popular right now.”

  “For precisely the wrong reasons,” Abby said. “I don’t need to feed that beast. She’s churning out plenty of bad publicity for Barclay’s all on her own. The last thing I need her to do is turn her focus on us.”

  “Looked to me like her focus was already on you,” Grace said. “But I agree. Keeping your meeting under wraps is a good idea. At least until you know what direction it’s going to take. There’s that new place on Sixth, lots of secluded booths. Get Graham to pull some strings and get you in there tonight.”

  “Anyone else want to micromanage my evening?” Abby asked, her tone harsher than she meant it to be, but for real this whole conversation was wearing her out. The prospect of sitting across a table from Roxanne was enough to send her over the edge, but the pressure of keeping her cool about being blown off in PV and then ambushed back at home had her pretty riled. “Sorry, I know you’re just trying to help. I think I need a few minutes to decompress.” She edged toward the door. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  Once she was in her office, she took a few deep breaths and fired up her computer. Everyone else seemed to know the BBF, and it was time she did too. Her first search returned dozens of hits, and she scrolled through the results, taking in the tidbits as they displayed on her screen. According to her self-penned bio, Roxanne had gotten her start working the social beat at KNOP. After a stint covering a bunch of high-profile weddings for the news outlet, she was inspired to use what she’d learned to start a blog about weddings in general with a focus on offering advice to brides looking to maximize their time and money for the greatest effect. Her blog went into syndication last year and had been picked up by Best Day Ever’s online content division.

  Abby checked out Best Day Ever’s website. The front page boasted teaser clips for the upcoming premiere of a new cable program by the same name on the GAL network, starring none other than Roxanne Daly. That explained Roxanne’s desire to whip these brides into a frenzy. All that drama made for excellent television and would no doubt drive up Best Day Ever’s numbers.

  Well, no matter what they’d shared in PV, if Roxanne thought she was going to ruin her reputation or Tommy’s over a bunch of whiny brides who didn’t get the dresses they wanted, then she was in for a big surprise.

  Chapter Ten

  Roxanne stepped out of the car and took a ticket from the valet. Abby had certainly picked a fancy place. Of course, it was possible Abby didn’t have anything to do with the choice; perhaps that overly formal, ultra polite guy who’d called from Abby’s firm had made the reservation. Either way, this place screamed date, and Roxanne wasn’t sure how to take that.

  She didn’t understand why Abby hadn’t called her since they’d gotten back home. It was possible she’d imagined the connection they’d shared, but she didn’t think so, and if the smoldering look Abby had given her this afternoon when she thought she wasn’t looking was any indication, then she was probably right. But something was holding Abby back, and she intended to find out what it was before they finished their “meeting” tonight.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  Roxanne turned around to find Abby standing behind her, looking stunning in a fitted pinstripe suit, and she was struck by the fact that Lawyer Abby was as beautiful as Beach Abby. The only thing wrong was the frown on her face. “It’s okay. I just got here. Are you that unhappy to see me?”

  “What? No. I’d like to talk to you, and I thought it might be better to do it here than in front of a bunch of women ready to stab me with their empty dress hangers,” Abby said.

  “I want to talk to you too,” Roxanne said, injecting a trace of desire in her voice. This might be a business meeting, but she wished it could be more. It was hard to tell in the waning light, but Roxanne was pretty sure Abby blushed. Maybe Abby was happy to see her after all. The thought gave Roxanne hope and she decided to capitalize on it. “Then let’s get a table so we can do just that. Is the reservation under your name?” She started walking toward the hostess stand.

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what?” Roxanne said, on the move. “But here in the real world, you’re used to taking the lead? But you changed your mind and don’t want to have dinner with me? But you wish you’d picked a place that wasn’t this romantic?” She smiled to soften her interrogation and strode up to the hostess before she lost her nerve or Abby could respond. Maybe Abby didn’t really want to have this meeting, but even if it was the last time they saw each other, they needed some kind of closure, and she needed a chance to explain why she’d had to leave their idyllic paradise so abruptly.

  “Table for two. We have a reservation. Abby Keane.” She turned back in time to see Abby raise her eyebrows. “Yep, now I know your last name and all kinds of other tidbits that Google was willing to offer. Tell me you haven’t done the same.”

  “Right this way,” said the hostess, saving Abby from having to respond. Roxanne followed her across the restaurant to a cozy booth tucked into a secluded spot, hyperaware that Abby was mere feet behind her. Lit candles bounced sweet shadows along the sides of the booth, giving off a warm ambience. The hostess stepped back to let them in before handing them menus.

  “Our specials tonight include glazed duck and a chateaubriand for two—”

  “We’re good, thanks. If you could let our server know I’d like an extra dirty martini and a…” She motioned to Roxanne who nodded. “Make that two. Thanks.” Abby’s words were clipped, but the hostess handled the brush-off with grace and glided back to the front of the restaurant.

  “That was
a little abrupt.”

  Abby pointed to the inside of the menu. “The specials are printed right here.”

  “I seem to recall you enjoying having the specials read to you.”

  “That was vacation, this is a business dinner. A lot has changed since we were at Azure.”

  Roxanne took a breath to keep her temper down, but Abby was really pissing her off. This brusk woman was not at all the same person she’d shared a bed with in PV. “I can see why you needed a vacation. Your job must be really stressful.”

  “What?” Abby shook her head. “My job is fine. I help protect people from other people who want to steal their dreams.”

  “Hmmm, sounds like we’re in the same line of work.”

  “Hardly. Your job is to stir things up to increase your readership. Apparently, it’s working, because word is you’re getting your own show. Congratulations on your upcoming debut.”

  Roxanne started to argue, but there was some truth in Abby’s statement. Plus, she didn’t want to argue. She wanted to find a way past this and back to the Abby who drank fruity drinks and plowed her way through breakfast buffets. “I guess you looked me up too. Was it just so you could better represent your clients, or can I hope that some small part of you wanted to see me again?”

  “I think you’re forgetting how this went down. You’re the one who slipped away in the early morning without a word about where you were going. I didn’t know your last name, where you lived, or what you did for a living. For all I knew, you never wanted to see me again.”

  The waiter appeared with their drinks, saving Roxanne from having to answer. She watched as Abby sipped her martini and gave a tiny moan of pleasure. She’d missed watching Abby experience pleasure, but not enough to put up with her being a jerk for the rest of the evening. They both ordered, and when the waiter left, Roxanne launched in. “I want to explain something about PV.”

  Abby waved her off. “Nothing to explain.”