Eventually, I returned to the outdoor patio, which looked over two acres of land stretching out behind the house. It resembled opulence straight out of a film the owner would have produced, with its lush green grass, multiple flower beds, tennis court and Olympic-sized swimming pool. At least fifty people had arrived while I wandered through the house, and they all were mingling around the tables and chairs and chaise lounges surrounding the pool. Not seeing Pepper right away, I planted myself at a corner of the bar and ordered my fake gin and tonic so I could take part in one of my favorite pastimes: people watching. I felt much safer observing the goings on than participating because I knew I didn’t fit in. I might be wearing a Michael Kors dress and shoes, but my background was rooted in the blue-collar world. I knew I should be out there selling myself and the foundation, but talking about me and The Widow’s Path Foundation to people as glamorous as this crowd was as foreign as ketchup on corn flakes to me.
In spite of my logical brain explaining it, my insecure mind didn’t comprehend how one carefully crafted novel could lead me to an exclusive celebrity party in Los Angeles. The fictionalization of my life and grief had struck a chord, catapulting me into the literary limelight and a life of philanthropy. The “angel” intellect sang, Yahoo! You did it! Isn’t this great? The “devil” gray matter sneered, Are you kidding me? What are you doing here? You don’t belong. I shook my head and sipped my club soda, hoping I wouldn’t sneeze as the bubbles tickled my nose.
As I watched the crowd of breathtakingly beautiful people, I thought of Bruce as the image of his dog tags and urn flooded my brain. He would have been proud of me, for sure, and would have done his best to squash that devilish voice in my head, being supportive to a fault.
Pepper’s robust laugh caught my attention. I observed as she strolled from group to group, giving air kisses and half-hearted hugs, playing the game expertly with a perpetual drink in hand. She looked stylish and sexy in her skin-tight black tank dress and sparkly silver platform heels. I envied her statuesque form, wishing I were five-foot-ten, too. Instead, I barely made it over five feet and had an hourglass figure I hated. I usually loathed shopping because my bust, hips and ass were all different sizes, constantly vying for space inside regular clothes. Shopping earlier with Pepper had been a pleasure because the more expensive the clothes were, the easier it was to find a better fit, not to mention her excellent taste. Looking down, I smoothed the skirt of the metallic jacquard dress, admiring how the soft lights of the bar bounced against the golden olive fabric. It was a perfect score for me, having found it in a designer consignment shop and only paying a hundred dollars for it. The original tag read $1,495. Having a three-quarters of a million dollar debt to pay back hanging over my head would have prevented me from buying anything that expensive, not to mention the fact that I didn’t spend that kind of money on myself to begin with. Then I grimaced when I shifted in my four inch, black leather, buckled ankle boots and the balls of my feet throbbed as if on fire. Pepper must have seen me because I could see her heading my way, a look of concerned determination across her face.
A smile spread across mine as I watched her approach, and was reminded of our high school days when she would drag me to all the backyard keggers. I’d stand off to the side and watch her mingle and dance and drink, having the time of her life. Pepper always was the life of the party. I never minded though, because I lived vicariously through her, being too shy and nervous to act so carefree. In my own way, I had just as much fun as she did just by watching the antics of our high school class.
I came out of my reverie as Pepper arrived at my side with a handsome, young, model-gorgeous man on her arm. She introduced him as Philippe. He was an actor/model/record producer. I could see the smirk on her face as she said it, and did my best to hide any amusement I might have been feeling. Philippe had a very thick Boston accent and was dressed in Gap jeans, a navy blue tee-shirt and light gray corduroy blazer with brown patches on the elbows. When Pepper told him my name and background, he nodded, but peered over my shoulder to see if anyone more interesting lurked in the bushes behind me. He had the good graces to excuse himself before bolting in the direction of a gaggle of stunning young girls who were already a little more than tipsy on the champagne flowing freely.
Pepper snickered when he was gone.
“How’d ya like that one?”
“Oh he’s a keeper.” I rolled my eyes and fanned my face.
She grabbed my arm and pushed it down, still chuckling softly.
“You’re so bad.” I shook a finger at her.
“I know.” Pepper sniffed. “You okay?”
“Yep, I’m great.” I saluted and then took a drink from my glass.
“I think I see a gal over there I did some modeling with. I’ll be right back.” Pepper drifted off back toward the pool.
After that, every few minutes, she would haul someone else over to me and introduce them, but they weren’t interested in talking about anything but themselves or their projects. Pepper would bring up the book and the foundation, which was the kiss of death. Eyes would glaze over and disinterest would settle across their faces as they slunk away, saying they saw someone they needed to speak to.
My self-worth was beginning to take a huge hit from all the rejection. Little by little, I retreated closer to the bar until I was pressed up against the farthest corner. If Pepper hadn’t known I was there, she might have suspected me of bolting from the party.
I could see the consternation on Pepper’s face when the people she introduced didn’t find me as interesting and wonderful as she did. It made me love her all the more. After the sixth attempt, Pepper threw her hands up and teased me about being unfriendly. I played along, making grumpy faces that caused her to laugh out loud.
“Why do you do that?” she asked when she finally stopped chortling. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be showing you a good time and you’re the one making me laugh.”
“It’s a gift.” I shrugged my shoulders and grinned.
“Aren’t you having a good time?” She leaned in close and looked me in the eye.
“Sure!”
She caught the lie and scowled. I put up my hands in mock defense.
“My feet are killing me. The boots might be cute, but they are not comfortable.”
Pepper snorted and raised an eyebrow at me.
“So sit down.” She nodded her head at the bar stool behind me. Giving her a cheeky grin, I hopped up and crossed my legs prettily, my howling feet sighing with relief.
Two women stumbled up to the bar next to us, one with raven hair and the other with a coppery golden mane. They had their arms linked and were talking loudly about the couple hosting the party. As they both grabbed the bar for stability, they each demanded more alcohol as if it were their right instead of a gift from the hosts.
“Seriously, Viv. You need to circulate with me. I almost couldn’t find you in this dark corner.”
I dropped my eyes and stared at the pointed toes of my boots. I searched for the words to tell her how out of place and uncomfortable I felt. Leaning close to her, I whispered, “Everyone here is too beautiful. Too perfect. I’m intimidated. Are these the kind of parties you always go to?”
“Truth?” She touched her forehead to mine. “No. It isn’t. I hardly ever do these things anymore. It took me three favors to finagle an invite to this party, and I only did it because I thought you’d have a good time and could try to talk up the foundation.”
Shaking my head, I frowned.
“I’m way out of my element here.”
“Bah!” She punched me in the arm and then slung hers around my shoulders. “You belong here more than anyone else, as far as I’m concerned. Look,” she pointed across the yard, “there’s Luke Framingham. Did you see The Road Beyond?”
I shook my head.
“Well, he’s worth about ten million a film now. And over there is Jennifer Skarsgaard.”
“She won the Oscar for best actress this
year!”
“Yep. And she never lets you forget it.”
Pulling me off the barstool, she drew me away from the bar and down several steps toward the pool. As we walked along the edge, she continued and I forgot about my sore feet.
“She and Luke are ‘dating’,” Pepper made air quotes with her fingers, “but the scuttlebutt is that it’s a publicity stunt.”
We passed by Jennifer and Luke as they nuzzled each other and I dropped my eyes to stare at my ragged fingernails. They never even looked in our direction.
“This party doesn’t have as many big names as I thought it would, but the egos are gargantuan. I’m sure the only reason Luke and Jennifer are here is because the host is producing their next film together.” Pepper sniffed, looking annoyed while smoothing the front of her dress. “I thought it might be a little better than this because of the girl who told me about it. She’s been spot-on with party recommendations in the past. But none of these people even know who I am. They’re only worried I might be someone important they forgot about and so they pretend to remember me.”
“I’m sorry you blew your favors on me.” I scanned the area, watching the crowd in their designer clothes and drinks made with alcohol that cost more than my last electric bill.
“Oh, that’s all right. You’re worth it.” She finished her drink and set the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “Let’s get out of here.”
Relief made my knees shake.
“Yes, let’s.”
“Unless of course you want to stay and beg for autographs,” Pepper teased.
“Nuh-uh!” I dropped my glass off with another waiter just as she had done.
“Come on, then. I’ll take you where the real fun is.”
A 30-minute cab ride later and we arrived at a bar on Sunset Boulevard. Pepper paid the cabby and pulled me up to the door when I saw the sign.
“The Relic?” I couldn’t help smirking.
“Yeah, well, what can I say? Life imitates art, right?”
“Pepper, Ljubav! We have not seen you in a while.” The man at the door hollered, even though we stood right in front of him. He had to be at least six-foot-five and three hundred pounds of pure muscle. His thick Croatian accent was very sexy. Pepper threw herself into his arms and kissed each of his cheeks noisily.
“Hey babe! I’ve been working.” She turned to me and presented me as if I were royalty. “Hank, this is my oldest and dearest friend, Vivienne Stark.”
“Pleasure!” he boomed as I extended my hand. “Oh no, that will not do.” He lifted me under my arms so our faces were level and pecked me on each cheek.
“How do you do!” His greeting left me breathless as he set me back on my feet with a gentleness belying his size.
“Who’s playing tonight, Hank?”
“The Mini Coopers and Paper Magic.”
“Excellent! What’s the cover?”
“For you, Ljubav, nothing. You and your friend enjoy yourselves.” He stepped aside and opened the door for us. We were immediately assaulted by loud music and the smell of beer, sweat, and a tiny hint of cigarette smoke.
“Thanks, Hank!” Pepper saluted him and then grabbed my hand to pull me inside.
The bar reminded me of the divey joints we haunted when we were seniors in high school, with our bad clothes and hair and cheap fake IDs. It was dim and smoky, in spite of the public ban in California. The outdoor patio’s double doors were flung wide open, and the smoke from the people out there wafted inside. There was a band on stage and a crowd of people jumped and danced to the beat blaring from amplifiers. There were small round tables everywhere and, while many were filled with couples and trios of people, the place wasn’t packed. It felt comfortable and anonymous, much more my style.
Pepper greeted the two working bartenders by name as she ushered me to the edge and gave me a stern look.
“No more club soda for you. You’re going to have a real drink.”
“All right.” I put my hands up in surrender. “Gin and tonic, extra lime.”
“I’ll make it two. Go find a table.”
As she got the drinks, I turned to survey the openings. I chose one close enough to the bar so she could find me, but with a good view of the stage. I liked the band that was playing, with its upbeat tempo and edgy guitar, a hard rock sound that appealed to me. I was once again feeling like a high schooler as I gave each member of the band the once over to see who was cute. Chuckling to myself, I looked up as Pepper set my drink in front of me.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, as she scooted her chair closer to the table.
“I was just remembering all our time at St. Andrews Hall and The Ritz. This feels so very nostalgic. God, do you remember the time we got caught in the blind pig and we thought we were going to be arrested?”
Pepper’s mouth dropped open with the shock of the memory.
“Oh shit, I’d forgotten about that. I thought for sure we were going to have to call our parents to bail us out. Thank God the cops only ticketed us.”
“Good thing I worked for lawyers at the time, eh?” I snickered, remembering going to my boss in tears, begging him to represent us in court.
“What about the time I had to drive us home because you were drunk and that guy with the purple hair—”
“Jumped on the hood of my car!” I finished the thought for her, as the same memory exploded in my brain.
“That female cop was pissed!”
“And not even at us. She was more worried he would attack us.” I could see the officer in my head, nostrils flaring and nightstick pointed at the drunken youth who thought he could catch a ride home on the hood of my Buick.
When we were finally able to stop laughing and catch our breath, Pepper leaned over to give me a one-armed hug.
“Well, I may have moved to Hollywood, girl, but I didn’t leave my roots far behind. The mentality around here is a little bit on the juvenile side and reminiscent of our youth, but the music is good, the drinks are cheap and the people are real.”
I nodded in agreement as I held onto my glass. The drink was smooth and cold, and I sipped it as I watched and listened to The Mini Coopers, the anxiety and tension from earlier in the evening completely erased. I was so much happier at The Relic than on Mulholland Drive. I forced myself to let go of my worry over the foundation for a while.
When the band finished its set, Pepper put her fingers into her mouth and let loose a whistle, piercing my eardrums. The five members filed offstage into the crowd, giving high fives and shaking hands, heading straight for the bar. The interior lights went on and some inferior music came pouring out of the speakers at a much lower volume.
“I know a couple of those guys. They wrote some music for a local commercial I did.” Pepper pointed at the bass player and drummer from The Mini Coopers. I could tell she was proud of it by the casualness of her tone. I nodded and listened as she drew my attention to all the people in the crowd she knew. “These are good folks. I could probably call any one of them if I needed a favor and they’d be right there. We’re all fighting the good fight to make a living out here.” I liked knowing she was comfortable and safe in her life.
“I’m out and it’s my turn to buy. You ready for another?” I shook my empty glass at her. Pepper’s eyes widened and she nodded.
“I’ll take a Red Hook this time.”
I took her empty and weaved my way to the bar. Bodies were crowded against it at every point and I had to claw my way in.
Chapter 4
“Aren’t you Will Foster from Static Neverland?”
I whipped my head toward the voice to my left. The girl looked way younger than 21 and had probably snuck in with a fake ID. Her makeup was too thick and her clothes were too short and tight. She was probably adorable when she looked normal, but tonight she looked like she was on the prowl. I forced myself not to smile and said, “No, but I get that a lot.”
“I bet,” she said. “Did you get that tattoo so people would thin
k you’re him?” She pointed to the serpent on my arm and smirked.
Crap. I hated when they were smarter than they looked. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket down to cover my arm.
“Crazy coincidence.”
I turned back toward the bar, hoping she’d get the hint to take a hike. When I glanced back, she was gone. That was a close one.
The beer in my right hand was frigid and I switched it to the left so I could take a long satisfying swallow. It hit my throat fast, numbing everything in that fine way beer has. I almost choked as I watched Pepper Taylor saunter into the bar, along with a petite redhead. That threw me for a loop. I hadn’t seen her in almost two years. What’s she doing here? I looked away to take another drink and then she was gone, melted into the crowd. I shrugged, knowing she would find me at some point. I smiled at the thought.
I peered around the rest of The Relic, finally feeling like I was home. I saw a few familiar faces here and there, nodding when I got nodded to. I spent some time earlier on the patio, and even bummed a smoke from a buddy I hadn’t seen in five years, chatting him up on his band and their status while we puffed away. It was a comfortable feeling, being in the bar where my buddies and I got our start.
The band had been on tour all over the world, and tonight was the first time I’d been able to hang out in LA in over a year. A hundred and fifty shows in twenty countries was more than we’d ever done and, if I had my way, we’d never do it again. Back in the day, before Static Neverland got signed, we were lucky to do two shows a weekend and we yearned for fame and fortune and a record contract. I was now a firm believer in the “careful what you wish for” credo. When we got all of the above, our lives changed so drastically and so fast that we almost imploded. We were headed down the path to become a statistic of too much everything all at once. Luckily, the other four guys in the band were all pretty down to earth, too, and we managed to get our shit together before we threw it all away.
The Widow and the Rock Star Page 4
