“Didn’t you say he was the one who came up with this idea in the first place?” Bree asked.
A tiny wrinkle came to Layla’s brow, then disappeared just as quickly. “No,” she said again. “If you’d seen him those two weeks….” She smiled fondly out the window, remembering everything.
She shook her head resolutely. “No he was not part of this.”
If she let herself think anything else, the tears that threatened to come to her eyes would most certainly fall.
“It’s just blow after blow with these people. They couldn’t let me have just one, one tiny leg up, could they? Who are these people?”
“We can fix this, sweetheart,” Di-Anne said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “You said that the bride told you she loved the cake? Well, maybe we can get in touch—”
“No,” Layla said, remembering the sweet, timid girl she’d met. She could only imagine the sort of pressure that had come from on high to get her to make the statements she had for the magazine, if indeed she had even made them. She wasn’t about to add to the poor girl’s stress.
“There’s only one person who can fix this.”
As if on cue, her cell phone rang from her purse on the kitchen counter. All three of them jumped at the sound.
Layla walked over to get the phone, instinctively knowing who it was: Patrick Fitzgerald.
Patrick had been practically walking on cloud nine. Layla’s Boris problem was now solved and he couldn’t wait to personally hand her the good news: she was free.
He was already picturing driving up to see her that weekend to give her the news in person. Maybe they’d have their own little celebration afterward.
Then he remembered that today was the publication date for the California Bridal which would feature Layla’s cake. He had taken a break from work to head over to Barnes & Noble to pick one up.
Standing there in the bookstore he had flipped through to the feature. If the glaring headline hadn’t told him, the completely disastrous photo of Layla’s cake would have: It was a complete smear piece.
He had almost stormed out of the store without paying. Once in his car he knew he had to make a phone call before getting to work fixing this mess.
“Layla!” he said quickly when she answered. “I had no idea that—”
“I know,” he heard her say softly on the other end.
It relieved him only a little bit to hear the resoluteness in her voice. So she still had faith in him despite all this.
“Listen, I’m going to fix this. I have a pretty good idea what the hell happened. I will fix this, Layla. Trust me.”
“I do,” she said and he could almost see the smile in her voice on the other end. It filled his heart with relief.
“Still love me?” he asked.
She gave a small laugh on the other end. “Yes, Patrick, I still love you.”
He smiled into the phone. It was all the armor he needed to fight this battle, and there was no doubt that this was war.
And Patrick was out for blood.
“You can’t go in without an—!”
“Thank you, Beatrice,” Patrick said, completely ignoring Spencer Simon’s secretary. She was the latest young victim who had no idea what she had signed up for. Spencer went through secretaries like a pack of cigarettes, each one eventually succumbing to the draconian demands of their boss or the string of equally imposing egos that strolled through his door.
She gave an exasperated huff and rolled her eyes, leaping out of her chair to follow him into Spencer’s office. Patrick felt for the woman, but had far more pressing priorities at the moment. He didn’t care if Spencer was in the middle of negotiations with the President of the United States. He was going to confirm what he already knew: Spencer Simon was behind the trash article in California Bridal.
“What the hell, Spencer!” he growled as soon as he entered.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Simon. He just barged—”
“Get out Beatrice,” Spencer said dismissively.
She gave Patrick one final glare before exiting, closing the door behind her.
Patrick was surprised to find Spencer actually grinning at him like a villain in a movie who had just watched their evil plans unfold successfully. So there it was.
“I see you read the glowing review in that damn magazine,” he laughed. “By the end of the week it will be picked up by as many wedding magazines, blogs, and wherever else I can get it published.”
The bold honesty of the statement had Patrick momentarily stunned. He had at least expected the man to play dumb.
“Oh what? You’re surprised I’m admitting it?” Spencer laughed. “Honestly, the look on your face makes it all worth it.”
Patrick was too surprised to be angry yet.
“Why?” he asked stupidly. “The cake was gorgeous. Sam loved it.”
Spencer gave him an incredulous look, his bulging eyes squinting in disgust. “Do you really have to ask? After what that bitch put me and my studio through?”
Suddenly, it dawned on Patrick. How could he have been so stupid? He recalled the almost gleeful way Spencer had accepted the suggestion that Layla make the cake for his daughter’s wedding. It had been almost too easy.
Spencer leaned in close to Patrick. “No one fucks with Spencer Simon and gets away with it. Certainly not some baker up in…whatever the fuck the name of that damn town is.
“That goes for you too Patrick. You think I didn’t notice how much you had the hots for this chick? And that was before your little display of love,” he sneered the word, “out there on the dance floor of Sam’s wedding of all places. Jesus, man, have at least a little pride.
“As it is, you’re lucky I don’t fire you right here. Frankly, the only thing keeping me from doing it is James, who’s been with me since day one. He’s actually someone I trust.
“I suppose watching your little girlfriend crash and burn is good enough,” Spencer chuckled. “However, you’re going to have to work damn hard, I’m talking fucking miracles, to get back on my good side, Patrick. Now get the fuck outta my—”
“I quit.”
It came out so quietly nonchalant that even Patrick didn’t realize he had said it. It took a beat or two for it to register with Spencer.
“You what?”
“I quit.” It was more resolute this time. “I quit, Spencer.”
There was no other way of putting it. He got up out of the chair and walked toward the door.
“The fuck you do! You know what? You don’t quit because I fire you! You hear me, Patrick, you’re fired!”
By then Patrick was already through the door. He gave Beatrice—who was now giving him a look of stunned empathy, having heard that last bit—a smile so broad it changed her facial expression to one of confusion.
“Have a wonderful day, Beatrice,” Patrick said happily as he walked with a chipper step toward the elevator.
Once inside the elevator, Patrick waited for the instant regret to hit him. By the time it had opened onto the floor where his, soon to be former office was, he was actually relieved.
He thought about grabbing his keys and taking the rest of the day off, enjoying his new found freedom. Maybe he’d head out to the beach. Maybe he’d grab some Mexican food at a hole in the wall and sit at an outdoor table enjoying the sunshine for once. Maybe he’d go to fucking Disneyland. He laughed as he made his way to his office, then paused, his face a look of contemplation.
Maybe he’d take drive up to his favorite town in Napa Valley.
A grin came to his lips as he continued on. There was now plenty of time for all of that. First he owed it to one other person to let him know what had just happened.
Patrick knocked on the open door of James Davidson’ office. “Got a second?”
James was looking over some contract and nodded, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. Patrick closed the door as he observed the man peer down at the small print through his reading glasses, the end of a p
en stuck in his mouth.
“What is it?” James asked when he finished reading the page he was on.
“I’ve quit.”
It didn’t take nearly as long for James to absorb the words. Instead he gave a small, knowing smile. “Well, I guess you’d better sit down.”
Patrick settled himself easily in the chair in front of James. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m not surprised. Of course, I suspected something going on with you and Ms. Brown. Samantha’s wedding confirmed that bit.” He gave Patrick a look over his reading glasses.
“And this whole mess with the review. If it helps, I’m just as surprised as you are; the libel concerns alone…” he shook his head with regret. “But you know Spencer.”
“Yes, I do. Which is why I quit. Honestly, James you’re a decent man, how do you put up with his bullshit?”
James chuckled. “Spencer is nothing; most times he is easy enough to sway and bring around to see the light. I think he took this one rather personally. He wasn’t the only one.” He gave Patrick another pointed look.
Patrick just stared back with a soft smile. He was going to miss the man.
“Sylvia Carter.”
James started and gave him a sharp look.
He continued. “That was her name, right?”
“Careful, Patrick.”
Patrick had never bothered to look into what James had been talking about at the beginning of this case. It was only when he had become serious with Layla, intent on making things work out between the two of them that he had investigated it.
Sylvia Carter was a sad case. She began her career as a child actress with the usual albatross that goes along with it: greedy, narcissistic parents; surrounded by a lifestyle that was too grown up for her age. She had taken a break when she aged out of her role as an adorable imp. Then she had come roaring back as a bombshell. The good-girl-all-grown-up nostalgia was enough to make her more popular than ever. But the bad influences remained, sending her on a tailspin to disaster. As James had hinted, she’d been in and out of rehab. In the end, it was one hit too many and she had overdosed at the age of only 26.
“You once told me I should figure out what I want and whether it’s worth it. I’ve found it James, and it is most definitely worth it. When you quit being an agent you escaped, ran to something you could help build, and I see that it’s worked well for you, even if it is run by a complete asshole.”
James actually chuckled at that. “How long have you lived in this city, Patrick? The entire town is run by assholes. And if you think Spencer is the worst of the bunch, well…,” he just shook his head and chuckled again.
“That’s why I’m leaving.” Again the words came out so suddenly that he hadn’t realized he’d been thinking it this whole time.
“I guess I don’t have to ask where you’re going,” James said with a fond smile.
Patrick just smiled back.
“In that case, good luck, Patrick.”
“Thanks, James. Thanks for everything,” he said sincerely. “I mean it.”
With that, he went to his office to collect his keys. He thought he would in fact take the rest of the day off. After all, he had one last bit of business to take care of.
27
“Patrick! Oh, Patrick!”
Samantha, now Mrs. Winthrop, immediately hugged Patrick tightly around his waist, burrowing her face into his chest. She pulled herself back and he could see tears coming to her eyes.
He had stopped by the little Pasadena house she shared with her new husband to gently guide her into doing the right thing. Immediately, he could see this was going to be a long afternoon.
“Have you been eating? Or sleeping?” he asked with concern, looking at her. Already a slight woman, Samantha had had dark circles under her sunken eyes and her cheeks were more hollow than before.
As she led him in, he looked at her pencil-like legs in the leggings she wore under the baggy UCLA t-shirt. At the very, least he felt better about what he was about to ask her to do if only for her own sake. The guilt was literally eating the poor girl up.
She fell onto the couch with a frown as she stared at the wall ahead of her.
“Sam—” he began.
“I promise I didn’t say those words, what the magazine wrote. I loved that cake! And poor Layla. How is she?” she asked with wide eyes, turning to Patrick.
“She’s fine,” he said. “A bit surprised and upset, but she’s doing okay.”
“Ohh,” she moaned falling back against the sofa. “I can’t believe Daddy did this, and while I was on my honeymoon! They were supposed to wait until I got back and he just…”
“I know.”
“But what can I do? You know daddy,” she said, a miserable look on her face.
This was the tricky part. “Well, Sam, you’re a grown woman now; a wife. Soon you’ll have your own family. Do you really want to start your married life on a sour note?”
She blinked as if snapping out of a daze. “Oh my God, you’re right.”
He smiled encouragingly, letting her put it all together on her own.
“I mean, Daddy will be upset,” she frowned. Then she sat up straight. “But my duty is to my husband now.”
“Exactly,” Patrick agreed, nodding.
“Oh Patrick, being married is so wonderful,” she sighed, falling back against the couch with a hazy smile. “I know it’s early but I just love being a wife. Clark has been so great and so supportive. I think it’s all changed me for the better. I’m so different now. Already I feel like more of an adult.”
Patrick just nodded in agreement, waiting for her to get back on track.
“I think everyone should be married,” she turned her head resting against the cushion to give him a smile. “I think you and Layla are perfect. She’s much better than all those women you used to date,” she added with a frown.
Now they were really getting off track.
She bounced up from the back of the sofa and almost startled him when she got in his face. “I think you should marry her. She’d make a great wife…and mom.”
Okay, it was time to corral this conversation. Heaven help the day he took marital advice from a 22-year-old.
“Sam—”
“Oh my god, children! I can’t wait to make babies with Clark. All I want is to be a wife and a mom,” she said dreamily.
“Well Sam, being a good mom starts with being a good role model. Do you really want your children, your daughters, to grow up watching you still underneath the thumb of your father?”
She blinked in realization again, turning to him as though he had just revealed the secret of life. He supposed that as far as she was concerned, he had.
“Oh my God, you’re right. I won’t let them go through what I did,” she said with a scowl. Then it faltered. “Oh, he’s going to be so mad.”
Patrick certainly hoped so. In fact, he knew Spencer would be. He could already picture the steam coming out of the man’s ears. If he thought it was bad getting publicly fucked by “some baker up in whatever the fuck the name of that damn town is,” he was going to go nuclear when it was his own daughter. Hollywood would have a field day.
All the same, he didn’t want to completely throw Samantha under the bus.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” he asked.
She gave him a mild smile. “I’m a lot tougher than I seem, Patrick. Especially now.”
He was a bit shocked. It was the most grown up thing he’d ever heard her say.
“This mess just…I didn’t handle it well. But you’re right, I have to do the right thing if I’m going start my own family, I have to start it off on the right foot.”
Patrick just nodded solemnly. Perhaps there was hope for the girl after all.
“I really do hope you find the kind of happiness I did, Patrick.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I did quit today.”
Her mouth fell open in an O. Then she
laughed. “Oh, Daddy must have been pissed!”
“I don’t know, I was too busy walking out of his office while he screamed,” Patrick laughed.
She joined him, then her eyes grew wide and she blew heavily out of her mouth. “This will just piss him off more.”
Before he could ask if she was still up for it, she broke out in gleeful laughter. “It’ll be just what he deserves!”
Patrick looked at her, still not quite convinced.
She saw his look and nodded, answering his question. “I’ll be fine Patrick. Thanks for stopping by and convincing me. It was just the kick in the ass I needed.”
The language surprised him and she laughed again at his expression. “Maybe I’m a bit more grown than you think.”
As she walked him back to the front door later, she gave him one last firm hug. “So what are you going to do now that you don’t work for Lion Studios?”
Patrick looked off as if pondering it. “I think maybe I’ll take a trip up the coast,” he said with a smile.
Samantha chuckled. “I think that’s a great idea. Tell Layla I said hi,” she said with a knowing smile.
He laughed. “I’ll do that.”
“Thanks again, Patrick…and good luck.”
“Same to you, Sam. Same to you.”
Layla sat on her porch swing, enjoying the late August warmth of the early evening. On her lap she had the Jake Steele (a.k.a Jake Cavanaugh) novel that the movie her little bakery had been featured in was based on. It wasn’t usually her type of read but she found it engaging and any other time she would have been well into it.
She just couldn’t concentrate. She saved her place and closed it with a sigh, reaching out to pick up the glass of lemonade on the small table to the side of the swing. She rocked herself with her bare feet as she watched the sun sink lower in the sky and reflected on the craziness of the past summer.
Sweet Seduction Page 17
