“I am not interested,” Anya said, her voice flat and devoid of any emotion.
“Why not?” Ella demanded. “We can make us some money an’ get our butts outta this creephole.”
It was the same old story–sex, sex, sex–but Anya was not listening. She was in America now, and things were different. Circumstances had turned her into a whore, but she’d decided that if it was her destiny to stay a whore, then she’d become a whore who made a lot of money like the girls on Sex and the City. Television had taught her plenty. She’d watched Sex and the City many times and noted that the girls on the show slept with different men all the time. And not only did they sleep with them, they were treated with respect and handsomely rewarded. None of them appeared to have serious jobs, yet the money seemed to flow. They all lived in luxury apartments, they all wore beautiful clothes. And the shoes…oh, how Anya yearned to own a pair of shoes like that.
She was deeply impressed. “I want to be like those girls on TV,” she informed Ella.
Ella laughed in her face and said, “Doncha get it? Those bitches are actresses. Everythin’ on TV’s a big fat dumb-ass shitty fairy story.”
“I don’t care,” Anya said, her expression stubborn. “It is possible. I am in America now. Anything is possible.”
“No it ain’t,” Ella argued. “You gotta put out or you don’t get nothin’ in this crappy world.”
Anya did not believe her. She had plans and Ella did not factor into them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Between Natalie de Barge and Dee Dee Goldenberg, the two of them had made sure that Paradise was the place to be seen on opening night. Dee Dee had received instructions to pull out all the stops, so that’s exactly what she’d done. Outside the building a neon sign flashed Paradise, while a red carpet snaked its way from the valet service to the entrance, and silver ropes held back a healthy gathering of photographers and TV crews. Two of Dee Dee’s assistants manned the entrance, each armed with a guest list. Inside, Spago was catering. Champagne and special drinks christened The Paradise abounded. The drinks were carried aloft on trays held by waiters clad in tight black pants and nothing else. Dorian had personally conducted the ab inspection to make certain that every one of their waiters for the night were up to par.
Cameron felt like a princess as she made her entrance escorted by Cole on one side and Dorian on the other.
Dee Dee immediately instructed the photographers to get busy, even though they didn’t know who Cameron was. Dee Dee soon told them, embellishing somewhat. “She’s Cameron Paradise, the owner of Paradise,” Dee Dee announced. “Remember the name, she’s soon getting her own reality show on Bravo, and in September she’ll be guesting on Two and a Half Men, playing herself as Charlie Sheen’s love interest.”
Cameron opened her mouth to object, but Dee Dee shot her a look that screamed–“Don’t you dare!”
The photographers went to town. She might not be famous–yet, but she was certainly beautiful enough. Posing for the cameras she felt quite ridiculous. It was a relief when Natalie turned up with Nicollette Sheridan and Michael Bolton, because the cameras immediately swiveled away from her. Grasping the opportunity, she rushed inside. The spotlight was not for her.
“Two and a half men?” Dorian inquired, raising an arch eyebrow.
“Speak to Dee Dee,” she said, giggling. “It’s her vivid imagination, not mine.”
“I looove people with out-of-control imaginations,” Dorian sighed, his mane of blond hair freshly highlighted for the occasion. “Do you think she could make up a story about me and Josh Duhamel getting it on in Vegas?”
“Come on you two, stay focused,” Cole said, getting agitated. “This is our big night, we gotta be on top of our game.”
“You’re right,” Cameron agreed. “And Cole–perhaps perhaps you can tell me exactly how we’re paying for all this? It’s way over what we budgeted for.”
“Natalie’s silent investor requested the best,” Cole said, resplendent in a black Armani suit–purchased for him by one of his many admirers. “The dude’s payin’, so who gives a fast one?”
“I don’t understand,” Cameron said, perplexed.
“What’s to understand?” Cole responded. “It’s his money.”
“Yes, but it’s our business,” she pointed out. “How can we work with someone who thinks they can come in at the last moment and call the shots?”
“This is a party to get us on the circuit,” Cole explained. “Tonight is gonna pay off big time, you’ll see. Let’s go with it, babe. Natalie’s cool, we should be too.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said, worried about all the extra money being spent.
“I’m always right,” Cole boasted, taking off to greet a major Hollywood mogul who was waving at him across the room.
Lynda darted over, all excited. “Oh, mama! You look hot!” she exclaimed. “Lookit you in a dress all slit up an’ sexy. It suits you so fine.”
“Make the most of it,” Cameron said dryly. “It’ll be a long time before I wear another one.”
“Why’s that, sister? Mucho sexy suits you.”
“I’m not going for sexy,” Cameron said, perplexed. “I’m going for fit and healthy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lynda said, her abundant curves bursting out of a short scarlet wrap dress and very high strappy gold sandals. “Didja see Carlos around?”
“Is he here?”
“Of course he’s here,” Lynda said, plucking a smoked salmon canapé from a passing waiter. “I gotta keep a sharp eye on that bad boy, ’cause women–they chase after him like crazy. You got no damn clue what I gotta go through shooing off the crazy bitches who get too close. He’s got that Antonio Banderas vibe goin’ on.”
“Sure,” Cameron said, thinking that Carlos resembled Antonio Banderas like Pamela Anderson resembled Nicole Kidman!
She wondered when Don was going to show. She’d told him a dozen times he had to come with Mary Ellen, now she was kind of regretting that she’d insisted. Ever since their kiss at the beach she was definitely regarding him with new eyes. Should she go out with him? Would it be a mistake? Was he too much of a player?
What the hell–why not?
Natalie was standing at the temporary bar set up in front of a row of gleaming new treadmills. She was holding court with a group of friends. Mr Moneybags, her real-estate boyfriend, was by her side.
Cameron contemplated going over and saying something to him, then she remembered he wished to stay anonymous.
So be it.
Where are you, Don? she thought. Don’t let me down. I need you to show your face here tonight.
A few minutes later, Katie arrived. She’d flown in from San Francisco especially for the opening.
“Wow!” Katie said excitedly as they exchanged hugs. “I’m so glad I made it in time. My plane was late, I grabbed a cab and came straight here.”
“Where’s Jinx?” Cameron asked, delighted to see her best friend.
“He finally scored a record deal,” Katie said, beaming. “He’s in the studio, sends big kisses.”
“That’s such great news! Give him my love and congrats.”
“Ah, but I have even more exciting news,” Katie burbled. “We finally got engaged last night!”
“You did?”
“We certainly did,” Katie said, flashing a modest diamond ring.
“Fantastic!” Cameron said, throwing her arms around Katie. “I’m so happy for both of you, I know it’s what you wanted.”
“We’re getting married on the day Jinx gets his first gold record,” Katie said confidently.
You might have a long wait, Cameron thought, before slapping herself metaphorically on the wrist for being mean-spirited. Jinx was talented, but he wasn’t John Mayer or even Adam Levine of Maroon 5.
She felt her cell vibrating in her purse and quickly pulled it out.
“Running late,” announced Don. “The show ran over, technical problems. Don’t worry, I’l
l be there.”
“With—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said resignedly. “I’m picking her up as soon as I leave the studio. Reluctantly, I might add.”
Cameron laughed softly.
“You having fun without me?” he asked.
“I’m managing.”
“Don’t forget our bargain. Tomorrow night is date night.”
“You make me feel like I’m back in high school.”
“Wait until I move in for second base,” he said with a knowing laugh. “That’s when you’ll really feel it!”
“Is that a promise?”
“You want it to be?”
“Concentrate on your date tonight,” she reminded him. “Remember to smile nice for the photographers.”
“Jeez, you’re a tough one,” he grumbled.
“Hurry up. Your name’s on the list and the press are getting impatient.”
“Soon,” he promised.
She snapped her phone shut, slid it back in her purse and looked around. The place was buzzing. Was Paradise about to become L.A.’s hot new fitness center? If only people signed up to join, they’d have it made. Cole was already talking about expanding–putting in a tanning booth and a beauty spa. “Let’s get the gym off the ground first,” she’d said cautiously. “Then we can think about adding other elements.”
Lynda approached balancing a drink, a canapé and her span-gly purse. “Are we open for business tomorrow?” she wanted to know.
“The day after,” Cameron said, wondering if anyone ever listened to her. She’d told them all ten times that the day after the party was clean-up day, but that they should all come in anyway to field calls and get organized.
“Carlos has a cousin who makes T-shirts,” Lynda said, popping the canapé between her glossy lips. “He wants to know if you’ll place an order.”
“Carlos has more cousins than the Queen of England,” Cameron remarked.
“He’ll print Paradise on the front,” Lynda promised. “They’ll be so cute, an’ we can sell ’em at the front desk.”
“No, Lynda, maybe later.”
“Okay, okay,” Lynda said, all put out. “No need to snap at me.”
“Who’s snapping? I’m trying to concentrate on one thing at a time. Our focus right now is signing members, not selling T-shirts. Membership is what guarantees a steady income.”
“Oh…my…God!” Lynda exclaimed. “Take a peek at who’s walkin’ through the door. It’s Mister Potty-mouth himself.”
“And that would be?”
“Mr Lordy el creepo.”
“Who put him on the list?”
“Certainly not me,” Lynda said, indignant that Cameron would even think such a thing.
“I don’t even train him anymore,” Cameron said. “So what the hell is he doing here?”
“Maybe Cole sent him an invite.”
“I hardly think so.”
“Shall I get Carlos to throw him out?”
“No, leave it. Hopefully he’ll blend in.”
“That’ll be the day,” Lynda said, rolling her expressive brown eyes. “Watch out, he’s comin’ this way.”
And so he was. Everyone’s un-favorite client.
Cameron searched for an exit strategy, couldn’t spot an escape route, and faced him head on.
“Cameron, Cameron, Cameron,” Mr Lord said in an accusing voice, his black wig slightly askew, with caterpillar eyebrows almost forming a unibrow. “You left me high and dry.”
Mr Lord always managed to include a cliché or two in his conversations.
“Actually,” she said, determined not to get agitated, “I wasn’t allowed to take any of my clients from Bounce. House rules.”
“Screw house rules. You were my trainer, and one day you were there–all sexy and creamy in your little shorts–the ones where I could get a load of your juicy crack, and the next day your wet little pussy was history.”
Realization dawned. She didn’t need to get agitated, she had her own place, she wasn’t desperately trying to save money, she could tell him to piss off.
It was an empowering sensation.
“Mr Lord,” she said calmly, “your saggy old dried-up ass is history. So you can take your dirty mouth and sexist diatribes and get the hell out of here. Paradise does not welcome perverts.”
And with those satisfying words, she turned and walked away.
Chapter Thirty
Two hours into the party, Don finally showed, making a grand entrance with Mary Ellen. Following right behind him were Mandy and Ryan Richards.
Noting his arrival from across the room, Cameron felt her heart-rate accelerate. Why hadn’t Don told her he was bringing Mandy and Ryan? At least if she’d been forewarned she could have prepared herself.
Grabbing Cole away from his major mogul, she dragged him over to Don and the Richards, and made introductions all round.
“Hey–you’ve got yourself quite a turn-out,” Don said, glancing around. “And I must say the place looks fantastic, better than I expected.”
“Thanks,” Cameron murmured, determined not to look at Ryan.
“You remember Mandy and Ryan, don’t you?” Don said.
Oh yes, I remember them all right.
“Sure,” she answered casually, still trying not to look. But then she couldn’t resist, and she was shocked to realize that Ryan’s eyes were as blue as ever, his long hair was tousled and slightly mussed, and the small indentation in the middle of his chin sent shivers up her spine.
She felt a stab of hopeless longing for this man she barely knew.
“Hi,” Mary Ellen said, all bright and chirpy because this was her fourth date with Don, and the press were writing about them as if they were a couple. She hoped that her former husband was reading about them and choking over his coffee and his man-stealing movie-star girlfriend.
“Hey–” Cameron said, dragging her eyes away from the object of her desire.
“You’d better be nice to Mandy,” Don said. “If she gets behind this place, you’re all set.”
“I think we’re kind of set already,” Cameron said, green eyes narrowing. “My schedule is fully booked, how about you, Cole?”
“All booked,” he said, playing along.
“But you’ll fit me in, won’t you?” Mary Ellen bubbled. “I start back on my series soon, so I was thinking early morning.”
“I can take care of you,” Cole promised, putting his hand on her arm. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
“That would be so great,” Mary Ellen said, hoping that attention from this extremely handsome African-American man would make Don jealous.
“Here’s my card,” Cole said, fishing in his pocket. “Call me, an’ we’ll set something up.”
“Oh, I will,” Mary Ellen said, shooting Don a quick look to make sure he noticed.
“Yoga’s my thing,” Mandy observed, clinging onto Ryan’s arm. “I’m trying to get my husband into it, but he’s so stubborn, aren’t you, sweetie?”
Christ! Ryan hated it when she called him sweetie. And he hated it when she clung onto him. It wasn’t like Mandy to play the little woman, and that’s exactly what she was doing. Had she sensed that he was hopelessly attracted to Cameron?
“Yoga’s very satisfying for some people,” Cameron said evenly, attempting to stay cool and businesslike. “I prefer a more vigorous work-out.”
“Tell me about it,” Don joked. “She works me so hard I can barely stagger to the studio.”
“But it’s worth it,” Mary Ellen said, gazing at him all starry-eyed. “Your body’s ripped.”
“You can thank Cameron for that,” Don said. “She’s the best.”
“If you’re the best, then perhaps I should try you,” Mandy said, completely ignoring the fact that Cameron had informed her she was fully booked.
“I’m sure we can set you up with one of our trainers, Mrs Richards,” Cameron said.
“Touché!” Don laughed.
Mandy pulled on Ryan’s
arm, she didn’t quite get what was going on. Don had insisted they come with him to the opening of this new sports club, and he’d brought Mary Ellen as his date. Now it turned out that the girl he’d been with at Ryan’s birthday dinner was one of the partners at this place.
Hmm, Mandy thought. Perhaps he’s looking for a threesome, that would be about Don’s style.
“I need a drink,” she announced. “Our house is full of screaming kids. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to get away from the annoying little brats.”
What kids? Cameron thought. Ryan had told her that since Mandy couldn’t have children of her own she didn’t allow anyone else’s in the house.
“My sister and her boys are staying with us,” Ryan explained, as if reading her mind. “Three little guys under eight, I have to admit they’re quite a handful, but they’re certainly entertaining.”
“I’m sure nobody’s interested in our domestic situation,” Mandy said, spotting the well-heralded arrival of Birdy Marvel. “Come on, Ryan, we should go over and say hello to Birdy.”
“You go,” he said. “I need to talk to Don about something.”
Mandy was torn. Should she stay with her husband or should she go speak to the very famous pop tart whom she was after to appear at her next big charity event?
Pop tart won, and she was off, which left Mary Ellen, Don, Cole, Ryan and Cameron.
“How about I give everyone a tour?” Cole suggested. “We got a state-of-the-art steam room, and vibrating massage chairs in what we call our relaxing room. You’re gonna love it.”
“Yes, please,” Mary Ellen said. “Coming, Don?”
“Later,” he said, waving her off. “Ryan and I have to talk.”
And then there were three.
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