Trevor and Eleanor exchanged Hollywood kisses, and then Trevor sidled into the pantry, probably to ensure that he approved of everything she’d bought. Her mother came around the island and kissed Riley’s head.
“Ew. Sweaty.” She wrinkled her nose. “I did want to talk to you about something, actually. But the way you’ve been acting lately, I’m not quite sure how to bring it up.”
The first few days Riley had been home, she’d been overwhelmed with the Devon story blowing up, and with missing Bart, and with a kind of hangover from everything that had happened in Signal Bend just before she’d left. She’d quickly fallen into her old patterns of behavior, letting Pru and Trevor and Eleanor run her show. Then she’d had a horrible dream. She could remember much of it, but it was about Bart and so packed with anxiety that she’d woken gasping for air, the cover wet from her sweat. Riley never had bad dreams. She rarely remembered dreaming at all. But that dream, for some reason, had shaken her out of her old skin. That morning she’d called all three of them together, sat them all down around the dining room table, and told them that things had to change.
Trevor and her mother had basically patted her on the head, obviously humoring her. Pru, though, had met her eyes steadily and then nodded. Pru had been in Signal Bend. She understood better why things had changed for Riley. And now Pru was helping her learn the ropes of her own damn life. It turned out that a lot went into being RILEY CHASE, all caps.
She was intimidated, but not dissuaded. It was time for her to take those ropes and try not to hang herself with them.
Trevor and Eleanor, though, were proving to be more difficult to convince. It didn’t help matters that there were things going on that were very much part of their normal purview. She’d gained five pounds in Signal Bend. Five pounds! Since her Hollywood-ideal weight was about a hundred pounds, five pounds was not insignificant. And, as Trevor never forgot to remind her, she had wardrobe fittings for the film coming up fast. So she needed him to monitor her food and kick her ass.
As her manager, her mother was elbow-deep in what was going on with the pre-production phase of the film—Riley’s part of it, anyway. So Riley had sat everyone down, told them she was going to take charge of her life, and then, essentially, sent Trevor and Eleanor off to do what they always did. Apparently, this take-charge thing was going to be a work in progress for a while.
She’d thought things were going to be different when she got back. She’d thought that she’d make her life her own. She’d thought she’d have Bart, at least to talk to. But everything seemed to be pretty much the same. She was alone. Except for all the people pulling the RILEY CHASE strings. All caps.
She shook those maudlin thoughts away, sighed, and faced her mother. “Go ahead. Hit me.”
Eleanor sat on the stool next to Riley. “It’s about the party tonight. At Stan’s?”
“Yes, I’m aware of the party of which you speak.” As pre-production was winding down, and production was beginning to get underway, Stan, the producer of the film (working title, Signal Bend), had invited cast and crew to a party at his house in Laurel Canyon.
“I think you should make nice with Tanner Stafford.”
“Um, what?”
“Don’t play naïve. You know what I mean.”
“I do. I’m a little shocked my own mother is telling me to hook up with the serial costar-banger. What the fuck, Mother?”
Eleanor’s lips thinned primly. “Don’t talk like that. It’s ugly. You look ugly when you say words like that. I don’t know why all of a sudden you have to talk like a sailor. And I didn’t mean you should…do that, necessarily. I just meant that he gets a lot of press for his love affairs. The women do, too. And if you know what to expect, then you won’t get hurt.”
“Jesus, Mother. That’s…God!”
“You need to show the world that you are past the drama about Devon and that nasty whore.”
“She’s not a whore, Mother. I’m pretty sure he didn’t pay her.”
“Oh, no? What do you think’s happening now?”
Good point. “You want me to fuck Tanner so that people stop seeing me as the broken girl who got fucked over by her dead junkie boyfriend.”
“Riley, please! That all sounds so…sordid.”
“But it’s what you want.”
“The Devon story is a black mark on your brand, sweetheart. Tanner is handsome and talented and a good palate cleanser for all that.”
Her brand. Even her mother thought of her like that.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother that she already had her palate cleanser. She almost told her about Bart. But then she didn’t. She didn’t know if she still even had Bart. And she wasn’t in the mood for one of Eleanor’s patented hissy fits when she learned that Riley had gotten entangled with an outlaw biker from Missouri. She’d dealt with a whole series of those fits when she’d gotten home, incited by the way she’d blown her mother off while she was away.
Instead, she stood and went to the fridge for a bottle of Pellegrino. Trevor had wisely scampered off somewhere, but Riley was sure he was within earshot of all this juicy talk.
She closed the fridge and turned back to her mother, opening the bottle and taking a dainty sip. “Huh. I guess I’m the whore, then.”
“What? Riley!”
“You’re damn sure acting like my pimp. It’s time for you to go, Mother. I’m meeting Colin at the dojo this afternoon, and I have some things I need to do before then.”
Eleanor just sat, her mouth agape, and Riley turned her back and left the room. A few minutes later, she heard her mother go out the front door.
Riley wandered around her house for a few minutes, not sure what to do with herself. Her brain felt fried, and she didn’t even want to try to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Finally, she went out to her terrace. She sat on one of the lounges and looked out over the city, emptying her head until she felt calm again.
She heard the kitchen door open behind her. Then Trevor asked, “Want some company?”
“Sure.”
He sat in the lounge next to hers and picked up her hand. “You found yourself a biker, didn’t you? Or a cowboy. One of those.”
Stunned, she turned to look at him, but didn’t say anything.
He grinned. “The Trevor knows all, gorgeous. You get a look about you when you’re in love. You get a look about you when you’ve been hurt, too. I’ve been seeing that one more than the other the past few days. Did it not take? If this is an ice cream and pizza emergency, we’ll have to be careful. That fitting.”
His face was twitching with guilt. For all his draconian demands on her body, he coddled her heart, and she knew he hated not being able to indulge it if it was hurting. She smiled. “It’s not. At least, not yet. I just haven’t heard from him for awhile, and I don’t know what that means. It’s hard not to know.”
“I won’t ask if you called him. I’m sure you did. So is there anything I can do?”
“No. I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll rebound with Tanner. Eleanor would soak her Spanx.”
Trevor’s eyes went wide, and then he giggled. “Mercy! Well, she’s right about one thing—one week in bikerland, and you bring back a mouth like Sarah Silverman!”
~oOo~
Stan Blumberg had a gorgeous, enormous, ultra-modern mansion in Laurel Canyon. He shared it with his wife, Leah, their teenage boys, Jake and Seth, and three rescued greyhounds. Other than the framed photos everywhere, though, there was no sign of the kids or the dogs on this night.
Riley drove herself to the party, letting her little Ferrari California have some fun on the twists and turns of the canyon roads. She loved to drive. She didn’t get many chances, really, but she loved it.
When she pulled up to the gate, she marveled at the brilliant glow of the house, so full of windows the walls were almost made of glass, and bright golden light shining from every one. It was magical. She wasn’t a huge fan of parties like these, as a rule, but she did lo
ve the houses. She’d been born into this life, or something not terribly far from it. Eleanor had been a top fashion model in her day, and Riley’s father had been—well, she wasn’t completely sure what her father had done. Her mother had told her only that he was a “self-made man.” He’d died when she was very young, and she’d never known any of his family.
She herself lived, by these standards, modestly, and she liked it that way. During the few moments of each day that she wasn’t surrounded by people who were working for her in one way or another, she was alone, and she didn’t want much empty space around her.
At any rate, Riley had lived well in Los Angeles her whole life. But she’d never lost her little-girl wonder at the magical castles of the ostentatiously wealthy. As she traveled up the long sweep of the drive to the Blumbergs’ Magical Castle, she looked on in awe.
She pulled her little blue roadster up to the front, and a valet trotted out to take her keys as she stood. After three weeks in Trevor’s emergency boot camp, she’d lost the weight and taken on even more tone in her legs, ass, and arms, so tonight, despite the fall chill in the air, she was wearing a figure-hugging, very short cocktail dress, in champagne silk, with lingerie straps and a bodice beaded with crystals and silver. A pair of nude, four-inch Jimmy Choos embellished with crystals and silver completed the look. Her hair was loose and blown out, and she felt pretty damn good.
She needed to feel good. Feeling good about the way she looked was helping stave off feeling bad about losing Bart and failing to wrest control of her life away from the people around her.
She caught the valet looking her up and down. He stammered, and she smiled. “Here you go.” She handed him her keys.
“Have a good evening, Miss Chase.”
One thing about being an actor—she knew how to play a part. Tonight’s part was the friendly, funny, totally at ease party guest. She wrapped the role over her shoulders like a shawl, put on her smile, and strode into the house.
~oOo~
It wasn’t so bad. After a few of the fruity little cocktails that were wandering around the room on silver trays, it wasn’t bad at all. The pre-production crew, who were just finishing most of their work, and the production crew, who were ramping up in earnest now, were there, but Riley didn’t know almost any of them. The makeup and wardrobe people, she knew. A couple of stunt people—including Colin Stonewood, her sensei, with whom she’d worked out earlier in the afternoon. Almost all of the actors she’d just seen in Signal Bend were there, and she spent quite a lot of time talking to Doug Warness. He gave her insight about how life in the military can shape someone’s mind—an insight she thought she could use to play Lilli. She really did like him. He was calm and not easily impressed, but not in a cynical, snarky way. Just unflappable. He was a gentleman, too, making sure she had a drink or something to eat, taking her elbow to pull her away when she’d almost stepped off a step to a recessed part of the room. He felt like a big brother or an uncle or something.
For the first hour or more that she was there, Tanner wasn’t. And Riley had liked that quite a lot. It looked like he wasn’t going to show. Stan, Doug, Peter, Riley, and a few others spent some time talking shop, as Stan gave an impromptu briefing on the production plans. After the quick exit from Signal Bend, Stan and his fellow producer-types had decided not to film there. They’d sent a photographer in months ago to scout the location, and he’d taken a lot of footage, on video and on film. They would use what of that they could, and otherwise they were going to film in L.A., for the most part. For the critical shootout scene, they’d fly up to Vancouver.
That didn’t involve Riley. Lilli had been kidnapped then and wasn’t there. So Riley would stay in L.A. She was really disappointed that they wouldn’t be returning to Signal Bend, but she wasn’t surprised. And anyway, it was definitely better this way if she and Bart were over before they’d really gotten started.
Angry. Or worried. Or should she be embarrassed? Had she made a fool of herself? Was he laughing at her, braying in the clubhouse about nailing the dumb blonde TV star?
No. Not Bart. He wouldn’t.
How was she so sure?
Those thoughts hounded her until she’d had a few more of the fruity cocktail thingies—which were really, really good. Like Jolly Ranchers with a kick. That probably meant they were full of calories and all sorts of other things that would have Trevor chasing her up and down the hilly streets of her little neighborhood, but for right now they were totally delish and totally worth it. Besides, she wasn’t thinking about Bart anymore. Oh, except for right then.
She was standing at a wall of windows, looking out over the pool, which was glowing bright blue in the dark night. The patterns of light and water had her entranced. Somewhere in the back of her head she knew that she was quite drunk—and oh, shit. She’d driven herself. She’d forgotten. Well, that was stupid. She was going to need a cab, and then she would have to come back in the morning to get her car, and then she’d be all embarrassed, and oh, geez Louise.
“Hey, Sport.”
She turned and had to put her hand on the window to keep her feet. When did Tanner get here? “Tanner, I tol’ you that’s gross. ‘Specially now. Don’t call me that.” He knew what had happened to Isaac, and even tipsy, Riley felt like using that name was a horrible intrusion into a very personal space. It felt like even more of a violation, considering what Isaac and Lilli were going through now.
His grin was annoyingly know-it-all-y. “Had a few, have you?”
She grinned right back at him. “Maybe. They call it a cocktail party for a reason, ya know.”
“I have heard it said. May I say you look right brilliant tonight, Riley, my love? That is quite the dress. Dazzles the eye, it does.” He stroked his index finger over the top of her beaded bodice.
Riley was having a hard time thinking. She hadn’t had a drink in…well, it felt like it had been awhile, but she was feeling more drunk, not less.
“I need to go home now. Bye.” She took a couple of steps, trying to get past him. But had her shoes gotten taller? She wobbled, and Tanner put his arm around her waist, steadying her.
“Easy there, love. Let me walk you out. I assume you’ve a driver waiting for you outside?”
She smiled up at him. “Nope. I drove myself. I don’ need people to do everythin’ for me. I am cap’le—cape—cap-a-ble of doing things for myself.”
“I’m sure you are, love. But not driving. Not tonight.”
Oh, right. She was going to call a cab. “Okey dokey. I need a cab.”
They were almost to the front door now. “I’ve a better idea. Why don’t I take you home? I do have a driver waiting.”
She didn’t trust him even a tiny little bit. Not even drunk. “You’re jus’ tryin’a get me in the back of your car. I know how you work.” She waggled her finger at him for emphasis.
“I’m not, Riley. Truly. I’m attempting chivalry here. Can’t a bloke offer assistance to a pretty girl in need?”
She knew it was a stupid idea. All the ideas she’d had seemed to have been stupid lately. Like falling in love with another bad-news guy. Tanner wasn’t any better, but at least she knew what she was getting with him. Not that she wanted him. She tried to make her brain put some order to the thoughts that were reeling around in her head. Then she just gave up. It was too hard to make order.
“Okay. But no messin’ ‘round. Jus’ a ride.”
“On my honor.”
And he was a gentleman on the ride. As far as she knew, anyway. She fell asleep at some point and woke when he shook her gently, parked in her own driveway. She’d been leaning on him, her head resting on his arm.
“Um, okay. Thank you. I’ll see you.” The driver opened the door, and she tried to slide out as gracefully as possible, still drunker than she could remember being. She could feel her very short dress hiking up over her ass as she got out, but she decided not to think too long about that.
Trying to pull her dress down, she
wobbled on her feet, and then she sensed Tanner getting out of the car, too. She spun on a slender heel, and the world went topsy-turvy for a second. He grabbed her arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Seeing you safely to your door. Devon will wait.”
“What? What do you mean? How do you know Devon?” She was really confused. Maybe she wasn’t hearing words right.
“Devon. My driver.”
She turned back to scrutinize his driver, squinting through her cocktail goggles. Okay, not her Devon. Wait. She didn’t have a Devon. Oh, geez, could she just get inside and pass out?
Tanner walked her to her door, pulled the keys from her hand, unlocked the door, and handed the keys back to her.
She scowled at him. “You know I don’t like you.”
“I do know that. You’ve not exactly been coy about it. I suppose I earned it. I was a bit of a twat whilst we were away.”
“Twat. Douchebag. Tomayto, tomahto.”
He smiled. “I don’t suppose an apology would suffice?”
She shrugged. He was very tall. She liked the way she felt bookended by her door and his body. “My mother thinks if I fuck you people will stop thinking of me as the damaged girl who wasn’t enough for her junkie boyfriend.”
He winced; she wasn’t sure why. “Your mother, eh? She seems rather…progressive, I must say. Does she know your heart belongs already to another?”
She shook her head.
He leaned in a little closer. “Does it belong to another, in fact?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.
He brushed his beard over her cheek. “That’s a right shame, love.”
With one hand, he pushed open the door. With the other, he pushed her through it.
“G’night, Riley. I’ll see you soon.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bart waited until the sun was up before he got out of bed. He didn’t think he’d slept much. His head had been too busy for sleep. He felt strange in his body, like he wasn’t quite in step with the world around him. He’d lain on his back in his bed and let his thoughts have their way. The Horde, the Scorpions, Riley. So much in his head, all the time.
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