Mandy Makes Her Mark

by Ruby Laska

  Tad’s expression twisted briefly into a smile. He was enjoying her pain, it was clear. “Six o’clock. Out of LAX.”

  Mandy muttered under her breath. Now she remembered. Flying out of Burbank would have been so much easier, but she’d saved a few bucks by getting flights with a layover from the larger airport. She’d have to get up at three o’clock to get to the airport on time.

  But she wasn’t about to give Tad the satisfaction of seeing her sweat. “Six. Right. Of course. Well, I’ll see you at the airport, then.”

  “Sure.” Tad hesitated, and for a moment Mandy thought he was about to say something about Luna.

  Don’t, she telegraphed with all her might. She and Tad had shared a mutual antipathy for each other from the moment they met. It would be a terrible idea to find common ground now, as satisfying as it might be to have someone to unite with against her sister.

  “I saw it coming,” she blurted. “You were never right for her. I’m only surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

  She’d caught him with his mouth open, about to speak. Now, he closed it, slowly, and nodded.

  “Exactly what I was going to say,” he muttered, pushing back his chair. He was up and out of the room, trailing his air of sensual ennui behind him, before Mandy could think of a proper rejoinder.

  Outside in the cramped office she could hear Liam, her assistant, humming along to Mylie Cyrus’s latest hit. A moment later the door slammed, and Tad was gone.

  Luna. Tad. Sylvie. Jayde. Her best models, all carefully booked into the Lark shoot, one of the most important of the season. It had taken skillful negotiating to land the contract, convincing Lark of the advantages of hiring a team that frequently worked together. Now, that façade had broken apart right in front of him. And Lark was connected–he went back thirty years in the bridal-wear business. If the shoot went badly, he wouldn’t hesitate to let everyone know he was dissatisfied with the Leif Agency. And the tiny operating margin, not to mention the profit they were on schedule to earn for the first time in the agency’s two year history, would be lost overnight.

  Mandy wasn’t going to let that happen. Before two years ago, she never dreamed she would run a modeling agency. Her job as a marketing assistant after college hadn’t taught her the first thing about forming a company. But with hard work she’d turned the agency into an enterprise she was proud of…the first time she’d ever felt pride in her own accomplishments. She wasn’t about to endanger that. She’d given up her personal life for the agency; she hadn’t gone on a date since arriving in L.A. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even flirted with a man.

  She wasn’t about to let that sacrifice be for nothing. So even if she had to stay up all night, when the plane left LAX for Miami in the morning, she’d be on it, armed with everything she needed to ensure that the Cupid Island shoot was a success.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Thank you,” Mandy said, mustering every last remaining trace of civility she possessed. It was nearly six o’clock, Florida time, and she had been awake for twelve hours. She gave the boat captain a tired smile. “Zeke, wasn’t it? It was really nice of you to come back for me.”

  “Absolutely, ma’am,” the captain said, tipping his baseball cap. At least he’d provided nice scenery for her to stare at on the ride over from Key Grande—tanned and muscular, dressed in a faded Hawaiian shirt and a necklace of shells, with sun-bleached hair around his shoulders, he was a grown-up lady’s beach boy fantasy come true, especially with one arm slung casually over the steering wheel. Mandy really ought to take advantage of this unexpected break from her routine to brush up on her rusty flirting skills, since there would be little for her to do when they weren’t shooting. Maybe, if she were really lucky, she might even meet someone for a tropical fling.

  The thought filled her with more dread than anticipation. Growing up with a sister as beautiful as Luna hadn’t exactly bolstered her confidence around men. The minute her few boyfriends met Luna, they became so distracted that Mandy had almost given up on finding a man who cared more about what was on the inside than on appearances. She wasn’t horrible looking—she might not have Luna’s height or poise or freakishly perfect features, but she did have the same clear pale skin and intense green eyes and thick auburn hair—but in her the combination was merely pleasant, not stunning. Add to that a nerdy streak a mile wide, and Mandy had learned early on to settle for being “the smart one” in the family, the one more likely to land a scholarship than a date.

  Once, she’d made the mistake of forming a crush on a popular baseball player. Luna had discovered the secret place on the back deck where Mandy had carved the name of her crush—“Amanda and Brandon 4Ever”—and mocked her mercilessly. Ever since, she’d set her sights low. She knew she would have to work at it if she wanted to meet someone, but she’d made one excuse after another since starting the agency.

  The engine noise had made conversation impossible—Zeke had gunned it, since he was behind schedule from squeezing in an extra round trip—but it was just as well, because Mandy was worn out from traveling. She’d had only three hours of sleep, after sending emails and working with Liam on the phone to rebook the rest of the week. Then her cab was late, and later still after he got lost on the way to LAX.

  Once at the airport, she barely made it to the gate in time to board. Tad was sitting in first class—no doubt upgraded by an admiring flight attendant, the sort of thing that was always happening to him. Jayde and Sylvie had both been seated in the main cabin, their stunning looks having less of an effect on the flight crew, perhaps. Jayde jumped up and hugged Mandy, but Sylvie barely looked up from her magazine, and Mandy spent the next six hours in a middle seat all the way in the back, being jabbed with the elbows of the businessmen on either side. Sleep was out of the question.

  There was only a brief layover before the puddle jumper to Key Grande, and Mandy spent it bolting down a sandwich. She was accustomed to being the only person in a room eating, but Jayde at least joined her for a smoothie, then regaled her with stories of her Minnesota childhood. By the time the plane landed and they exited to the tiny airport hangar, Mandy was desperate for a nap. Maybe she’d just go straight to bed and sleep until tomorrow and pray that everything fell into place on its own. Let Lark sweat the details for once.

  But when she walked through the terminal, Zeke was waiting, holding a sign with the names of everyone from the agency except for her—and Mandy remembered that the one detail she hadn’t taken care of was to book herself on the shuttle to the island.

  She’d hoped that one of her models would offer to stay back with her—but one by one, they filed past her without meeting her eyes: imperious Sylvie, grumpy Tad, and anxious Jayde. Poor Zeke, forced to deal with all that attitude. No wonder he looked exhausted now.

  Mandy handed him some folded bills.

  “Oh hey, thanks, Mandy, but it’s not necessary.”

  “Well…” Mandy had a feeble burst of inspiration, fueled by her resolution to use this trip to wake up her inner flirt. She fluttered her eyelashes and swept her hair off her shoulders. “Perhaps you could use it to buy me a drink later.”

  “Say! Not a bad idea,” Zeke said, pocketing the cash and then chucking her on the shoulder in a decidedly unromantic way.

  Mandy knew the move well; it was a sign of the sort of “buddy” relationship she inspired in men, especially once they met Luna. Well, you could never have too many guy friends, right?

  “Looking forward to it,” she said gamely.

  On the way to the registration desk, Zeke chatted amiably about the history of the island, the layout, the activities, and entertainment available.

  “I’m here for business, but I hope I’ll be able to take advantage of the resort when I’m not working,” she said.

  “Oh? What sort of work do you do?”

  “I run a modeling agency. We’re doing a shoot for a bridal wear collection.”

  “You don’t say?” Zeke seemed genu
inely impressed. “That explains the, uh, distinctive appearance of that last crew. They all yours?”

  “All mine,” Mandy said, thinking, for better or worse.

  “And you’re what, like their boss?”

  “Well, in a sense, I suppose. I mean, you’d probably have a hard time convincing any of them that they report to me. They tend to be…headstrong.”

  “Ah. So you’re more like their babysitter. Making sure they make good choices and so forth.”

  Mandy couldn’t help laughing. “You’re not so far off the mark.”

  Zeke introduced her to the concierge, an elegant woman named Amelia Drake with a silver bob and large, stylish glasses. Amelia gave her a key and directions to her bungalow. As Mandy was walking through the manor she took a quick look into the restaurant and lounge.

  Sitting at the bar, to her surprise, was Tad. He was hunched over a drink, looking like he could use a double. Mandy slunk by, hoping Tad hadn’t noticed her. The last thing she needed when she was so exhausted was the emotional turmoil caused by spending time with Tad. Making conversation with him was like pulling teeth; he avoided looking at her, barely spoke, and left her wondering if he hated her or merely found her incredibly dull. Her ego didn’t need the hit today.

  Still, once she was safely past, she stopped. Guilt surged through her. Tad was probably devastated over his breakup with Luna, especially given her penchant for cruelty. Why, even now he might be trying to drown his sorrows in drink. Which could be disastrous for tomorrow’s shoot. Hangovers were notorious for causing problems that couldn’t easily be edited out—slumping posture, hollow eyes and cheeks, insincere smiles.

  Mandy gritted her teeth. She shouldn’t even be here. Her employees were professionals—she ought to be able to expect them to figure out how to behave accordingly. And yet, if any of her models tanked, they would take the agency down with them.

  She backtracked, dragging her suitcase. When she sat down on the barstool next to Tad’s, he barely looked up.

  “Tad.”

  “Amanda.”

  That was another thing. He was the only person on earth who called her that. She had spent her childhood begging her family not to call her Mandy, but they were unmoved, as were every teacher, classmate, friend, and coworker she had ever had. “You’re just a ‘Mandy,’” one well-meaning friend had tried to explain. “You might as well get used to it.” And she had, finally, which made it all the more unsettling that Tad used her real name.

  “So…what are you drinking?” she asked.

  He swung his head around and drilled her with a heavy-lidded glare.

  “Really, Mandy? I’ve been dating your sister for eight months, not to mention the fact that you and I have worked together for almost a year. We’ve spent how many dinners together? Events? Business meetings? Endless holiday meals?”

  “Wow,” Mandy said, trying not to feel stung. “I wasn’t aware that you consider Thanksgiving—“ which she had hosted in her apartment, inviting Luna and Tad and a few friends—“to be endless.”

  “I hate the holidays. No offense.”

  Of course he hated the holidays. Tad could out-scrooge Scrooge himself. “None taken,” she said stiffly.

  “And in all that time, what have you seen me drink?”

  “Dr. Pepper,” Mandy sighed. “Fine. Point taken. Did you at least have him add some rum? Because you look like you need it.”

  “I’m an alcoholic, Amanda,” Tad said in a withering voice. “Almost eleven years sober.”

  “Oh!” Mandy felt her face flame. How did she not know this? “Should you even be here, then? I mean, in a bar? Is it…allowed?”

  “It’s fine,” Tad said. “Some alcoholics prefer not to be around people who are drinking. I don’t especially mind.”

  “But you’re under a lot of stress. You know, because of the breakup and all.”

  Tad looked at her unblinkingly, his frown seeming to deepen. “Ah. So now you’re a psychotherapist, as well. Thank you, Dr. Leif, I’ll take that under advisement.”

  “No! I mean, I didn’t mean it that way. Just…look, Tad, I was trying to be sympathetic.” She considered. “I mean, I’ve certainly been the target of my sister’s moods often enough. I know it’s not especially pleasant.”

  Tad shrugged. “To tell the truth, I think we both knew the breakup had to happen. I give her credit for pulling the plug.”

  “You do?” Wow, Mandy was further out of the loop than she even imagined. She hadn’t picked up on any discord between the two.

  Of course…their relationship had largely consisted of the two of them appearing together in restaurants and at parties and movie openings, glowering seductively into the camera. Tad was a perfect gentleman, holding doors and taking her coat, but the two of them never seemed to actually speak to each other.

  She took a breath and prepared to do the right thing, no matter how much she would prefer not to.

  “Do you…want to talk about it?”

  He laughed shortly. “Seriously?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Only that if I were in the market for relationship advice—which, don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not—I would probably look for someone who’s actually in one.”

  “I—I can’t believe you,” Mandy sputtered, drawing back as if slapped. Here she’d been ready to lend a sympathetic ear to Tad Eckholm, of all people, a man who’d been nothing but sneering and caustic to her since the day they met. She’d only taken him on because she needed another male model on her roster. And now, when she was trying to be nice, he’d insulted her. “What is wrong with you, Tad?”

  He turned to look at her for the first time, one perfect eyebrow arched. He looked mildly interested, an expression Mandy was pretty sure she’d never seen on his face before. In fact, she’d come to think of his trademark look, the one that had landed him more shoots than any of the other men she employed, as “bored contempt.” To potential accounts she used words like provocative and intense and soulful, but the truth was that she’d sometimes wondered if a series of electrodes would detect any brain activity at all.

  “What is wrong with me, Amanda? Is that the question?”

  “Well—yes.”

  The silver-haired bartender chose just that moment to finish with his other customers down the bar and came up to her. “Good evening, Miss. What may I get for you?”

  “I’ll have a—a—whiskey. A double.” Mandy had never had a whiskey in her life—she was more of a pinot grigio kind of gal, with an occasional daiquiri in the summer—but this moment called for something strong.

  “Of course. What sort of whiskey were you thinking?”

  “Scotch.” It was the only kind she could think of.

  “Single malt or blended?”

  “The first,” Mandy said impatiently. Seriously, was it this complicated to order a damn drink?

  “And do you prefer something peaty…smoky…or something smooth?”

  Definitely not smooth. Mandy was in the mood for a drink as rough as her temper. “Peaty and smoky. And if you can set it on fire, so much the better.”

  The bartender laughed politely. “And another Dr. Pepper, sir?”

  Tad nodded morosely, fixing Mandy with his unblinking gaze while the bartender moved away to get the drinks. She tried to look away, but the undeniable fact was that Tad was impossible to ignore. Part of it was his sheer physical perfection, sure—sculpted features, jaw like steel, a physique straight off the Sistine Chapel ceiling, eyes the color of a sapphire—but Tad had an air about him that was nothing short of compelling.

  Liam, her assistant, called it his fuck-off-I’m-flawless look, the one that scored Tad steady work in catalogs and print ads for products like sports cars and luxury watches. But Liam had also pointed out that Tad’s flawlessness was also his limitation, because he was rarely chosen for editorial work or the best runway shows. “They’re looking for character,” Liam had said, “like Luna’s nose.”
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  Luna’s nose was the one feature which Mandy had always felt grateful not to have inherited from their mother. Luna’s nose was straight and narrow, but it was long, long enough that in profile you couldn’t help but notice how it jutted from her face and overshadowed her high cheekbones and lovely full lips.

  At least, that’s what Mandy had thought, as she took over booking for their fledgling agency. So she’d had to cover her surprise when she took calls from clients anxious to hire “the one with the nose.” That was before Luna became known around the globe, before she dropped her last name and started going simply by “Luna”—like Cher or Madonna—and a whole new crop of long-nosed models tried to cash in on the look.

  Tad had no such distinguishing characteristic, unless you counted his sheer perfection; Mandy had had to find other ways to promote him to her clients. For the snowboard spread she’d promised a “consistent, superbly textured two-day growth” (because, naturally, Tad’s beard came in with no patchiness or discoloring); for the swimsuit manufacturer she’d emphasized that Tad’s skin held a faux tan perfectly. Of course, these things could be faked with photo editing software, but it was amazing how susceptible her clients were to a carefully worded sell job.

  “You were going to tell me what’s wrong with me,” Tad said, taking a peanut from the dish on the bar and tossing it in a lazy arc, catching it between his gleaming white teeth. “I’m all ears.”

  The bartender had brought their drinks and set them on the bar without comment. Mandy took a sip of the amber liquid and immediately started coughing. It was just so…caustic. That people were willing to pay good money for the stuff was astonishing. “You’re smug. You’re arrogant. You’re full of yourself.”

  Tad raised one groomed eyebrow and quirked a small smile. “All of which, I believe, is my brand, as you explained in that memorable staff meeting last month.”

  Mandy reddened, dropping her gaze to the drink in front of her. She knew exactly which meeting he was referring to. She’d been trying to apply some of the principles she’d learned in one of her night school classes, explaining to her best models how they could capitalize on personal branding in their social media. Naturally Tad had undermined the whole meeting with his clever but subtly undermining comments.