by M. S. Parker
Their menu was amazing. I almost couldn't decide. Finally, I chose the Gazpacho – a seasoned cold tomato soup with garlic croutons – a Turkey Club with everything on it and a side of garden vegetables.
As I settled in under the partial shade and began to eat, I watched the beautiful people of Hollywood walk by, sporting the latest fashions, arms linked as they chattered away about the latest gossip. It was nothing like watching New York sidewalks. Everyone there was so busy, hurrying from one place to the next. There was a sameness about them. Not because everyone in New York looked the same, but they all had the same harried expressions, whether they were in a three-piece suit or wearing leather. It was all important business. Here, there was a mixture of those rushing and those taking their time, but even the people in a hurry didn't carry themselves with the same briskness I associated with the people of big cities like Chicago or New York.
Then there was the traffic. I'd heard horror stories about LA traffic, and having lived in the Big Apple, I was no stranger to cars parked bumper to bumper. I didn't know if it was the time of day or where I was, but it wasn't too bad. The main difference between the two cities, however, was the type of car. Back home, every other car would be a yellow taxi. Here, every second or third car cruising by was a Ferrari, Lamborghini, Porsche or another exotic car that cost more than I made in a year. Hell, some of them were worth almost twice as much as I made in a year.
I knew the saying about the grass being greener on the other side of the fence, and I'd worried that I was trying to do that to LA, but that's not what it looked like to me from here. I was sure there'd be disadvantages to living here, just like there were negatives about every place, but sitting there, enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere and the warmth of the sun, I couldn't see it. Being here just made me all the more determined to get hired at Mirage.
“Krissy!”
I blinked, startled out of my reverie by my name being called. From the sound of it, it wasn't the first time. I looked around, trying to figure out who I knew out here who could possibly be yelling for me. I spotted him even as he came towards me. Blond hair, tanned skin and that impossible smile.
“Hello again, Taylor.” I returned the smile. He was off-limits for anything sexual or romantic, but a talk wasn't unethical.
“Here I was thinking I'd have to make an excuse to go back to Mirage just so I could see you again.” His eyes ran over me and he gave a low whistle. “Much better than what you were wearing before. Not,” he hastily added, “that there was anything wrong with you before. It's just that dress...”
“Were you just walking by or coming to get something to eat?” I asked the first question that popped into my head so he'd quit talking about the way I looked. Normally, I loved a compliment, but I couldn't flirt back. It wouldn't be right.
“I come here all the time,” he explained, his eyes returning to meet mine. “I live two blocks that way.” He pointed, then gave me another charming grin. “I share a house with three other actors. It's not much, but it's home.” He looked down at the empty seat across from me. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I wanted some conversation and I didn't know anyone else here. I could keep it platonic and almost business-like. Lawyers went to dinner and out for drinks with clients all the time. It was fine. As long as it didn't cross the line.
The waiter who'd taken my order was coming with my main food, so Taylor and I waited to start a conversation until Taylor's order had been taken. He motioned for me to go ahead with my meal, for which I was grateful. The soup had been amazing, but it hadn't been even close to filling.
“How did your interview go?” Taylor asked as I took a bite of my sandwich.
Wow. That was good. I took a moment to savor the bite before answering Taylor's question with a see-sawing motion of my hand. After I swallowed, I told him a very brief part of the story, mostly how well things had gone with Mr. Duncan but I also mentioned showing up in my room to find DeVon Ricci on the couch. I didn't mention that he was with two naked women or what he had been doing to them, rather choosing to keep it professional and simply say that I'd kicked him out.
Taylor laughed at that, his eyes lighting up. Damn, he was hot. “I did warn you about DeVon.”
I nodded and chuckled. “You did.”
The waiter returned with Taylor's lunch, some sort of steak sandwich that looked just as good as my turkey one. If I did move out to California, I had a feeling I'd be back here.
“I can't believe you kicked him out of your room,” Taylor said before taking a bite of his food.
I shrugged. “It was my room and he was being quite rude.”
“Would you kick me out?” Taylor teased.
I chewed slowly on the mouthful I'd just taken. If we were back home or I was just visiting, I knew what the answer would be. Hell, no, I'd ride you like a pony. Unfortunately, that's the kind of answer I most definitely could not give here.
I tried for something safe. “I'd call security on anyone who showed up in my room unannounced and uninvited.” I kept my tone flat so it wouldn't sound like I was flirting. I didn't want Taylor to be mad, but I also didn't want him to get the wrong idea. I changed the subject, asking him questions that would be appropriate for a lawyer-client relationship. Details about his work. Where he hoped to be in five years. The kinds of things I could ask anyone without getting too personal.
The problem was, Taylor kept trying to make the answers personal. When I asked about what he saw in his future, I didn't specify his career and he took that latitude to joke about being with a beautiful lawyer. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate what he was saying, but it wasn't making things any easier for me to keep professional.
“Did you rent a car?” he asked as he handed the waiter a credit card with the bill.
I shook my head as I did the same with my bill. I was glad Taylor hadn't tried for an awkward 'I'll pay that.' “The hotel has a car service.” I took out my phone. “All I need to do is give them a call.”
“Why don't you let me take you back?” Taylor offered.
“I couldn't,” I protested.
“Nonsense,” he said. “Why have to wait around here for the driver to come get you when I have a car right over there?”
It made sense, I had to admit. I nodded and, after the waiter returned with our receipts and cards, I followed Taylor to a mid-sized Audi. It was nice, but older, definitely more of an up-and-comer type car rather than something an established actor or a mega-star would have. The inside smelled like fast-food and the pine-scented air freshener that hung from the rearview mirror. I couldn't help but smile. Every college guy I'd dated had a car that smelled the same. It was typical bachelor with a menial type job. I suddenly realized that I didn't know what Taylor actually did for a living. If he was only doing local commercials, he had to have either a trust fund or a 'day-job.' I was betting not many kids from Wisconsin had trust funds.
Before I could ask, he looked over at me and asked his own question. “Do you have anything planned the rest of the day?”
I shook my head.
“I was wondering if you'd like to see the ocean. The sun will set in a couple of hours and it's absolutely beautiful over the water. It's not something you'll want to miss.”
I hesitated. I really did want to see the ocean and a sunset over the Pacific sounded amazing, but I wasn't sure it was a good idea to be in a car, alone, with Taylor that long. At least eating, we were in public. I didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression.
“It's a half-hour drive,” Taylor said, as if he could read my mind. “We'd have some time to enjoy the view, then I could get you back to the hotel before it was even really dark. Plenty of time to rest for your second interview.”
After another moment, I nodded. “Let's go.”
7
The Santa Monica Pier. I'd seen it in movies, but it was even more beautiful in real life. The ferris wheel against the backdrop of blue sky. Th
e sounds and smells that could only be found in a place like this. All of it was everything I'd ever dreamed.
We walked slowly, sometimes talking, sometimes just enjoying the setting sun. Just before the sun reached the horizon, the lights came on, turning the pier into something almost magical. We stopped at a distance so that I could get the entire panoramic view.
I sighed as I leaned against the railing. The smell of salt water mingled with the other scents and I could hear the gentle lapping of water beneath my feet. It was the week after Labor Day, so most of the vacationers had gone home, leaving the pier virtually empty, at least by New York standards. If you weren't pressed shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers, it was almost empty.
I was watching the sun slowly starting to disappear when it happened. Taylor put his hand over mine. I jerked back automatically, turning towards him.
“What do you think you're doing?”
He shrugged, giving me a grin that I was fairly certain he was used to charming the pants off of women. If I hadn't wanted this job so badly, it might've worked for me, too.
“Maybe I'm off here, but I could've sworn I was sensing some attraction.”
Dammit. I hadn't been as careful as I'd thought.
“I was under the impression that you liked me.”
I sighed again, this time not out of contentment. “I do like you,” I confessed. “But you're a client of Mirage. I can't date a potential client.” I laughed. “Look, if this was New York and I'd met you there with no strings attached, or even here under different circumstances, I totally would've jumped your bones. But I'm trying to make something of this opportunity, not just continue on as if I was back home.” I gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
He took a step towards me, closing the distance down to just a foot between us. “Come on, Krissy.” His gaze was heated as it ran down my body and back up again. “I'm just one small client with Mirage, not even close to their top one hundred. They don't give a shit about whether or not we hook up.” He reached out and ran the tip of his finger down my arm. “I swear, I won't say a word. No one will ever know.”
“I'm sorry, Taylor.” I kept my voice cool and firm. “It's not going to happen.” I turned my back on him to watch the rest of the sunset. I really hoped he'd take the hint because I wanted to enjoy my view for a bit longer.
He was silent as he moved to stand next to me, but I didn't sense any animosity, which was good. He kept a respectful distance as we finished watching the sunset and I was able to relax and let myself absorb the beauty of what I was seeing. We stayed standing there for several minutes after the last sliver of sun had disappeared, waiting for the first of the stars to begin to come out. The lights from the Pier kept them from being as bright as I knew they'd be out in the country, but it was still far more than I'd ever seen in New York or Chicago.
Finally, I pushed back from the rail and broke the silence. “I should be getting back.”
He nodded and flashed me a polite smile that made me feel like perhaps things would be okay between us. That was good. As bad as it would be to date a client, I had a feeling Mirage wouldn't look too fondly on a client being pissed at me either.
We made small talk on the ride back to my hotel, keeping it light and nothing personal. By the time he pulled up in front of the hotel, I had regained the sense of wonder I'd had when I'd first stepped off the plane.
“So,” he said as he flashed that beautiful white smile again, “What do you say to a night-cap in the bar?” He winked at me. “Or in your suite?”
He was like a dog with a bone.
“You're super cute and very persistent.” I kept my voice polite. “But I can't do this. You're a client and I'm taking this job opportunity very seriously.”
If anything, his grin widened. “But what if you don't get the job?”
Now I was annoyed. Persistence was one thing, but if he kept pushing it, even his pretty face and rock-hard body weren't going to be enough to keep me from saying something I'd regret. “If I don't get the job and you're ever in New York, look me up.” I opened the door. “I'm sure you'd be fun for a couple days.” I didn't wait to hear a response, but rather climbed out of the car and headed for the front doors.
I really hoped that put an end to it. I so didn't need a client stalker.
8
This time when I was called out of the reception area, I was taken to the elevator I'd seen yesterday. The receptionist didn't say a word as we reached the second floor and the doors opened. She just gestured for me to go ahead without her. Based on what I'd seen yesterday with Mr. Ricci, I had a feeling he was the type of man who appreciated a strong woman. At least professionally. Something about him told me that in his personal life, it might be a bit different.
I stepped off the elevator and knocked on the heavy wooden door now directly in front of me.
“Come in.” An annoyingly familiar voice came from the other side of the door.
As I stepped inside, I saw that DeVon's office didn't look like the rest of the building. Instead of glass and metal, his office was dark with a heavy curtain covering what must have been a window at his back. He had heavy wooden furniture that matched the door I'd knocked on. The color scheme was dark brown and a deep red that almost looked like blood. It looked like something out of a Godfather movie. Or a vampire flick.
DeVon was sitting behind his desk and didn't get up when I closed the door behind me. I really hoped that wasn’t his normal way of behaving and he wasn't only being an ass to me because of yesterday. I walked towards him, waiting for him to look up from the paper he was reading and greet me. He didn't. In fact, all he did was point to one of the chairs in front of the desk.
I was tempted to take the other one, just to see what he'd do, but I didn't. As much as he annoyed me, being intentionally antagonistic wasn't a good idea. No matter how much I wanted to.
I crossed one leg over the other, folded my hands in my lap and waited. I was normally impatient and impulsive, at least according to my friends, but when it came to a battle of the wills and sheer stubbornness, winning trumped everything else.
Finally, after what was probably a good ten minutes, he closed the paper and set it aside. His expression was unreadable as he looked at me. “Krissy Jensen, I liked how you handled the situation yesterday.”
Apparently, he didn't believe in opening with small talk. That was fine with me. The less time I had to spend with him, the better. He might have been pretty to look at, but I wasn't fond of the attitude.
“That was a test, you know.”
No shit. I didn't say that, of course. “I figured that much. A little unusual, I must say.” Carrie would've been proud of my self-control.
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I do things differently.” His eyes narrowed, studying me. “I don't like fake people and this town has too many of them already. I want one hundred percent honesty and trust from all my employees. In return, I don't bullshit them, either.” He rested his hands on his desk. “Do you think you can do that? Be honest no matter what?”
That was an easy one for me to answer. “Absolutely. And I couldn't agree more. I hate liars.”
He was silent for several minutes and I could feel his eyes boring into me, like he was trying to read something deep inside and determine if I was telling the truth. I tried very hard not to fidget. I'd never been very good at sitting still and his heavy gaze wasn't making it any easier.
Finally, he spoke. “I'm not so sure you can be completely honest.” He leaned back in his chair and set his elbows on the armrests. He pressed his fingertips together and peered at me over them. “How do I know you're not just saying that to get the job?”
I tried not to take offense at the question. He had a right to be suspicious. Some people would've had a problem promising honesty and actually delivering. For me, I actually liked that he required it. In fact, his statement about liars was probably the first thing I actually liked about him.
“I wou
ld say to trust me, but if you don't believe I'm telling the truth, it doesn't matter what I say.”
He inclined his head, leading me to believe he approved of my answer. “I could conduct the interview in an...unusual way to determine if you will provide me with answers you believe I will want to hear or if you will answer honestly, no matter what you think my opinion will be.”
That sounded like a very bad idea.
“I have found,” he continued, “that if I ask questions of a personal nature – a very personal nature – I can determine if they are lying or not.”
Yeah, agreeing to this 'unusual' interview was definitely not a good idea.
“A benefit of this will be that I will be able to provide you with a yes or no regarding the job once we are finished.”
He was tempting my impatience, but that wasn't the main reason I wanted to agree. He'd caught me off guard yesterday, and while I'd managed to recover nicely, he'd still shocked me. I had a feeling whatever he was going to ask would be sexually loaded and he wanted to see if I'd crack. It wasn't just about honesty. It was about seeing if I could handle the pressure of working in a place like this. Whether I got the job or not, I was determined to let him know that he couldn't break me.
“All right,” I agreed.
I could see a pleased light in his eyes for a brief second before it was gone again.
“My questions will deal with things that you may not feel are appropriate for a work situation, and I will not take kindly should you decide to complain after having agreed to this interview.” His tone was sharp as he gave me the warning.
“I'm waiting for the first question,” I said mildly. No way was I backing down.
He chuckled. “Then we begin.” He crossed one long leg over the other. “Are you a virgin?”
