by Carsen Taite
Greer shrugged. She didn’t always like Rick’s style, but he got results. She might as well hear what he had to say. Staying here was out of the question. Clayton didn’t need her problems on top of his own, and she had her answer about Ainsley’s reaction to meeting the famous Greer Davis. She could still feel the heat of her slap. “What’s the plan?”
He tossed several brochures on the table. “A little vacation. For a few weeks. Pick one and I’ll make the call. We can get you in today.”
Greer picked up the pamphlets and began browsing. Each one offered a beautiful unique setting: gorgeous mountain vistas, bountiful gardens, natural springs kissed by bright sunshine. But as Greer read further, she realized they all had one thing in common.
“You’re sending me to rehab!”
“Calm down. These are top-of-the-line places. They’re used to catering to famous guests.”
“What does that mean? They have great turn down service?”
“I can make arrangements for your new arm candy to visit you once you get settled in.”
Greer ignored Rick’s reference to Ainsley, but she was pissed. As angry as she was at Rick’s characterization, she didn’t want to discuss anything about Ainsley with him.
Greer tossed the brochures back at him. “I’m not going to rehab, Rick.”
“Yes, you are.” His tone had a level of authority he didn’t often use so early in their tussles. It didn’t foster submission.
“No,” Greer paused for emphasis, “I’m not.”
He resorted to wheedling. “Greer, honey, you need to. Everyone thinks Macy died because of you. It’s a simple equation. Good girl meets bad girl. Bad girl gives good girl drugs. Good girl dies. Bad girl must atone or never sell another record. All the big stars go to rehab at some point in their career. I’ve already got People lined up for an exclusive.”
All Greer heard was, “Everyone thinks Macy died because of you.” It wasn’t enough she was responsible for all her own bad actions, but now she was responsible for sweet innocent Macy’s as well. She had considered Macy her friend and wouldn’t have done anything to hurt her. She’d warned her about overindulging, but was she also supposed to babysit Macy to keep her from the grip of vice? Did everyone really think she had essentially killed Macy? Did Rick? Only one way to learn the answer.
“Do you think Macy’s death was my fault?”
Rick obviously didn’t expect such a direct question. “Don’t worry. I have it on good authority the police have closed their investigation and have ruled her death an accidental overdose. They’ll issue a press release sometime this week which, combined with your interview in People, will paint you in the best possible light.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Huh?” He could play dumb all he wanted, but Greer wasn’t buying it. She knew how much Rick hated confronting her, but he had come here today ready to send her off to twelve steps of retribution. She was determined to hear if he thought she deserved it.
“You heard me. Do you think Macy’s death was my fault?” Greer carefully enunciated each word, determined not to let Rick off the hook until he acknowledged and answered her question.
Rick refused to meet her eyes. “Greer, it doesn’t matter what I think.”
He did. He thought Macy Rivers would be belting out her signature heart-melting ballads right now if it weren’t for Greer. Greer’s heart sank at the realization that the one person she relied on to manage all her affairs and she trusted her future with thought she had been so careless, so indifferent to another person’s life that she had caused an overdose, or at the very least done nothing to prevent it. Hell, if Rick, who played fast and loose on a regular basis, thought so ill of her, then no wonder Ainsley, consummate perfectionist, didn’t want to have anything to do with her.
As if he could tell she was upset, Rick gave his response another go, but there weren’t a whole lot of ways to vary his conclusion. “Seriously, kid, all that matters is improving your image.”
“Her image is not the issue here.”
Greer didn’t know how Clayton managed to recapture the boom in his voice, when his body still looked so frail. But there he was, leaning against a chair, sounding like he could pick Rick up and throw him out on his ass. Rick didn’t get the message.
“Actually, it is.”
“What’s at issue is my niece’s well-being. How she is, not how she appears.” Clayton delivered a withering stare. “Has it even occurred to you she lost a friend in a tragic circumstance and no one,” he shook his finger at Rick, “I mean no one, has the guts to stand up and say Macy Rivers was an adult, responsible for her own actions?”
“Uncle Clayton.” Greer stood up. “It’s okay, Rick didn’t mean anything.” She pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. You don’t look so good.”
“Oh, he didn’t, did he?” Clayton shook his head at the offered seat. “Why don’t you ask Mr. Seavers how the press found out you were here?”
“What?”
Rick spoke up quickly. “She was probably followed from Chicago. Greer made her own arrangements getting out of the city, so I didn’t have a chance to take all the usual precautions.” Greer felt her uncle bristle, and she could feel her own blood pressure rise in response to Rick’s scolding tone. She started to respond, but Clayton beat her to it.
“And the hungry press waited an entire week before they reported the missing star’s whereabouts? Do you expect us to believe they didn’t have an inside track?” Clayton coughed and it took him a moment to regain control of his voice. “Or is it more likely they had no idea where Greer was until someone tipped them off? Someone who knew exactly where she was. Someone who needed his meal ticket back on the front page before the starving media took their feeding frenzy elsewhere.” Clayton finally sat down, seemingly exhausted from the unanswered interrogation.
“Now, Mr. Lancer, I don’t think you’re being fair.”
“It’s my fault.” No one had noticed Aunt Ellen reenter the kitchen. “I told him exactly where you were Thursday night.”
“Told who?” Greer asked her.
“Mr. Seavers. He called Thursday afternoon to make sure you got the wire. I told him you were out on a date. I may have mentioned you were taking her to Zozobra.” She paused as if trying to remember more of the conversation. “He had never heard about Fiestas. He had a lot of questions about all the celebrations, and he was excited to know you were out on a date.” Ellen paused as if to judge whether she should say more, then she finished with, “I’m sorry. I thought he was your friend.”
Greer was flaming mad. “Aunt Ellen, I’m not upset with you. Mr. Seavers was a friend But Mr. Seavers has taken advantage of our friendship. For the last time.”
“Now, Greer, don’t be hasty.” Rick flashed his best and brightest smile.
“Don’t worry, Rick. This has been a long time coming. You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me!”
“Wanna bet?”
“I have a contract and it’s ironclad. Your lawyers, the ones I hired? Well, they’ll rip their sharky teeth out trying to chew through our agreement.”
Greer wanted to shout him down with the promise to pay whatever it took to wrangle free of his control, but she wasn’t so naïve she didn’t know her comments would come back to bite her. She’d deal with the logistics later. All she cared about right now was getting him out. She pointed to the door. “Get out!”
Rick appeared glued to the floor. He engaged her in an epic stare-down, but Greer wasn’t about to waver. Her sense of betrayal won out, and finally he shook his head and made his way to the door. He paused before leaving, and Greer braced herself for the parting shot he fired in her direction. “Greer, honey?” His voice dripped sarcasm. “I hope you enjoy rehab. I already leaked it to the press, so you might as well make the most of it. Lord knows you don’t do yourself any favors running wild in public.”
*
“The controller finally got all these reve
nue numbers ready to review.” Paul set down the stack of binders and looked around the room. “Where’s Drew?”
“I sent her home.” At Paul’s raised eyebrows, she continued, “For the day.”
“I’ll call her. We’re overbooked and I need to talk to her to see if she has arrangements in place.”
“She does. We have a walk rate with the Juniper down the street.” Ainsley referred to the customary arrangements hotels had with one another to provide rooms for a small fee when the other was overbooked. “Drew called them before she left. I think she’s more on top of things than I give her credit for.” She paused. “Did you know her dad has cancer?” His sheepish expression told her he did. “I feel like such a heel. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’re not known to cut much slack.”
“Seriously, Paul, cancer?” His silence sent her into a tailspin. She couldn’t keep her voice from rising. “You think I don’t have it in me to give her a break because her dad has freaking cancer?”
He ducked his head as he delivered his answer. “You have a tendency to demand a lot from people.”
Ainsley could tell he was soft-pedaling and she was horrified to learn he thought she was incapable of simple human compassion. Had she given him or anyone else reason to believe otherwise? She worked hard, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit she expected the same from everyone else. Was that so wrong? Especially when she didn’t have anything else to focus her energy on? No partner to come home to, no close family ties, despite the sudden appearance of her sister Melanie.
Ainsley recognized she didn’t have a life outside her work or even value outside of career ladder accomplishments. She realized she transferred her own ambitions to others, but she could still respect that others had different priorities. She knew this hotel was significant to Drew. After all, it had been in her family for years. Ainsley could comprehend how family could come before work, even if she couldn’t personalize the priority for herself. But she had spent her life operating under the assumption if you gave someone an inch, they’d take a mile. Was it so wrong to expect the best from people?
Even as she formed the question, she knew it couldn’t be answered by a simple yes or no. Of course it wasn’t wrong to expect the best, but her expectations were demands, not goals. Was her demand for perfection always justified or were there occasions when a little slack on her part might make a huge difference to the recipient? If she faced reality, she would have to admit she had her own not-so-perfect moments. A nagging thought about the glaring imperfections of a certain fake redhead slithered its way into her consciousness. Ainsley slapped it down. I may not be perfect, but I don’t expect others to forgive my imperfections, and I don’t have to forgive hers, I mean theirs. She decided Paul’s reaction was justified. She would attempt to project the image of compassion if she could figure out a way to do so without lowering her standards.
Ainsley spent the next few hours reviewing the books with Paul. Tim, the Steel controller, had spent the entire last week compiling the figures they needed to assess appropriate financial changes, a job complicated by the former Lancer controller’s decision to vacate his position as soon as the rumors started about the takeover. His sudden departure had spared Ainsley the task of firing him, but it would have been nice to have some semblance of an orderly transition. Instead they had stack after stack of receipts and invoices and reports full of data holes. It was no accident Ainsley had sent Paul to collect the finished reports. The curses coming from the makeshift office Tim had set up in the cubby next to her office rivaled those of the most irate guests Ainsley had ever dealt with and, faced with a choice, she definitely preferred the latter. After all, the guests eventually checked out.
“If you say rev/par one more time, I swear I’ll stick this pencil in your eye.” Ainsley referred to the index of revenue to available rooms as she jabbed a pencil in Paul’s general direction.
“Watch it, dragon lady. You might actually earn your reputation if I show up with a patch over one eye.” Paul’s teasing tone faded quickly when he looked at her. “Hey, I was only kidding.”
“Knock it off, Paul. I’m not stupid. I hear what everyone calls me.”
“It could be worse.”
“I’m not sure how.” Ainsley stood and closed the binder in front of her. “Command decision. Reserve a table in the dining room and catch the executive team before they leave. Dinner’s on me. I want them all there.” She caught herself and quickly revised. “I mean, if they don’t already have other plans.” She knew they would stay. Their jobs were still in the balance. Anything they could do to increase the remote possibility that they might be asked to re-interview for their positions meant any suggestion from her was viewed more like a direct order. For a brief moment she felt a tinge of regret that her power in the workplace didn’t translate into the confidence to take another chance with Greer.
Chapter Seventeen
“I never liked him.” Clayton practically growled the statement.
“How come you never said anything?” Greer felt like a fool. How could her uncle, who had met Rick probably twice, be a better judge of his character than she was? She had spent every day with the man. She couldn’t blow her nose without him holding a Kleenex. She was instantly depressed when she realized the extent to which she relied on Rick. He’d hired her lawyers, her accountant, her travel agent, her property managers, and countless dozens of others who were charged with managing Greer Davis, Inc. If she couldn’t put it on her Platinum AmEx, she didn’t have a clue how to make a purchase. A week ago, she thought her life had spun completely out of control. She’d had no clue the bottom was a much longer drop.
“It wasn’t up to me to tell you how to run your life.”
“Well, then who was it up to, because I obviously know nothing about it myself.” Greer knew she sounded petulant, but she wasn’t ready to shoulder the blame for her current status. Hell, she didn’t even know what her current status was. The only emotion she could summon was self-pity. “What am I going to do?”
“The first thing you’re going to do is stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
Greer’s head snapped up. She recognized the growl in his voice, but it had never been directed at her. He didn’t wait for her response before continuing. “Yes, you heard me. You’re going to snap out of this downward spiral and pull yourself together. You can be mad at me later. Right now, I’m going to call my lawyer and ask him to come by. He’ll help you get back control of your life. On one condition.”
Greer waited with dread.
“You can stay here as long as you want and we’ll protect your privacy, but while you do, you need to figure out a way to earn your keep. You choose, but I expect you to let me know by tomorrow. You may be richer than a Saudi prince, but you don’t know diddley about what’s really valuable in life. When you figure out what’s really important, you’ll be back in control.” Clayton didn’t wait for her response. He grabbed Ellen’s hand and left the room.
Greer barely had time to digest his pronouncement before Drew slid into the seat beside her. “Finally, the golden girl gets a scolding, though it’s much too late for you to learn any life lessons.”
“Lay off, Drew. I’ve had a bad enough day without you adding to it.”
“What’s the matter? Not used to being dumped? Or I guess you’re not used to being dumped once people find out you’re rich and famous? Funny, I didn’t think the dragon lady had any redeeming qualities until now.”
“Don’t call her that.”
“Aww, how cute, sticking up for the lover who scorned you. Too bad she’s not around to see you being so sweet, although I doubt she’d care. She saw you for who you really are.”
Did she? Greer hadn’t a clue who Ainsley thought she knew. The name Greer Davis, which usually translated into love potion, in this instance was love poison. But Ainsley had definitely liked whoever she thought she was with at first. A lot. Greer desperately wanted to be that person again.
“Yeah.” Where would I go if I wasn’t here?
“I need to go back to the hotel. I can tell Dad’s not feeling so hot and Mom’s worn out from all the excitement. If they need anything, can I count on you to deal with it?”
“Sure. I’ll handle whatever comes up.”
“Just put a Band-Aid on it and call me. I’ll do the heavy lifting.”
She can’t cut me a break. When did our relationship get so out of whack? “Drew?”
“What?”
“Seriously, I have it covered.”
Drew grabbed her keys from the kitchen table. “Yeah, whatever.” She started toward the door tossing the next words over her shoulder, “Seriously, though, call me if anything comes up. Later.”
Greer knew Drew would eventually come around. They were family, after all. They’d had their share of sibling-like rivalry growing up, but their fights had eventually faded into friendship. Ainsley, on the other hand, was neither friend nor family. With only a week-long foundation to their relationship, Greer wasn’t confident she could build what they had into something more substantial. But she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.
*
“Why aren’t you lounging in your Park Avenue apartment?” Ainsley pulled up a stool and joined her sister at the hotel bar. Dinner with the executive team had been the perfect idea. Paul assured her afterward they were finally convinced she was at least partly human. After two hours pretending to develop lasting relationships, all Ainsley could think about was having a drink in her room, but when she saw Melanie sitting by herself at the bar, she decided to use the opportunity to find out the motive behind her visit to the Southwest. She ordered a chilled Grey Goose and signaled the bartender to make another drink for Melanie.
