Juicy Secrets

by Victoria Ashton

  She crossed the plush rug and sat beside Emma on the piano bench. “You’re awfully nice to worry,” she said. “And just because I like Graydon doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

  “I know that,” Emma said. “I’m not a child.”

  “Actually, Em, you are,” Adrienne said. “But we’ll just keep that our secret.”

  Emma scowled. “You never listen to me,” she said, “and I always end up being right.”

  Graydon walked back in with his soda and smiled at Emma. She stuck out her tongue at him, then went back to playing the Bach fugue.

  “So,” Graydon said, “want to grab a drink or some food?”

  “I can’t,” Adrienne said. “I can’t leave Emma.”

  “It’s six,” Graydon pointed out.” Aren’t you supposed to be off now?”

  Adrienne glanced at her watch. “True. Let me check with Tania,” Adrienne said.

  “Does that mean I can stop playing?” Emma asked.

  “Looks that way,” Adrienne said.

  “Yay!” Emma popped off the piano bench.

  “Meet you in the hallway,” Graydon said.

  Adrienne walked Emma into the kitchen, where Tania was getting dinner ready. She smiled, revealing her gold tooth, when she saw them.

  “You have the timing of the perfect,” Tania said. “I just ready to come to call you.” Then her eyes narrowed and she looked at Emma suspiciously. “Or you know that because of secret spy tool?”

  Adrienne laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I was just coming in to see if it was all right to leave. Emma had nothing to do with it.”

  “Okay, then.” Tania nodded. “Good goings!”

  “Good goings to you, too.” Adrienne grabbed her stuff and met Graydon in the hallway. He smiled warmly at her, and her knees felt a bit wobbly. How does he do that? she wondered with pleasure. But I hope I do it to him, too.

  “Well, well!” Cameron came around a corner dressed in extremely low-rise jeans and a miniature cashmere sweater barely coming down to her ribs. “Where are you two going?”

  “The Carlyle,” Graydon said, mentioning the luxury hotel a few blocks north on Madison Avenue.

  “Ooh-la-la!” Cameron teased. “Taking a room, Gray?”

  “Shut up, Cam,” Graydon said, annoyed. “We’re going for cocktails.” He hit the elevator button again.

  “Sure you are, brother dear,” Cameron said. “Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “That leaves a lot of room, doesn’t it?” Graydon said.

  “Hah-hah.” Cameron glared at him. “So not funny.”

  “We’re out of here.” The elevator door opened, and he and Adrienne stepped inside.

  Immediately, Graydon grabbed Adrienne and kissed her passionately. Adrienne pressed her body into his. By the time they arrived at the ground floor, she could barely breathe.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  charge it

  “So you want to check out Hush?” Parker asked Liz. “It’s supposed to be super hot. We could go tonight, if you’re free.

  “Liz pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at it.

  It had been a whole week since she had heard from him. And now he was asking her out on a date, as if everything were totally normal.

  “Liz?” his voice came from the phone.

  She quickly brought it back to her mouth. “Yeah, sure,” she said as casually as possible.

  “Great. See you at seven.” He clicked off.

  Maybe that’s how he needs to cope, she thought. By pre-tending as if everything is still the same. Liz was determined that she’d be there for Parker, no matter what it was he needed.

  She dialed Adrienne. “Hey, it’s me. Listen, I know we were supposed to hang tonight, but Parker just called and asked me to go out.”

  “That’s great!” Adrienne said.

  “You’re not mad?” Liz asked. “You’re cool with it if I ditch you?”

  “Of course!” Adrienne assured her. “Parker has finally come around. You’ve been going crazy not hearing from him.”

  “True,” Liz admitted.

  “Hey, why don’t you still sleep over? You already set it up with your mom. And we can go over every detail of your fabulous date with Parker.”

  “Great idea. See you tonight.”

  An hour later, Liz hopped into a cab and sailed downtown. Hush was a new hot spot in the meatpacking district, a neighborhood that was once gritty and scary but was now filled with cutting-edge designers’ stores and celebrity hangouts.

  Liz paid for the cab and got out, running lightly across the cobblestones in her high heels. Tall, thin women and expensively dressed men climbed out of limos or strolled the crooked streets and window-shopped around her. Paparazzi snapped pix of the young stars of a hot WB teen-soap walking into the restaurant ahead of her.

  Parker was right, Liz thought as the sleekly dressed doorman held open the door for her, this place is seriously happening.

  “Welcome to Hush,” the hostess greeted her. The young woman was as beautiful as any of the celebrities in the place. Liz figured that being hot must be a job requirement, since every single person working there—from the waitresses to the busboys to the bartenders—was drop-dead gorgeous.

  “I’m meeting Parker Devlin,” Liz said.

  The woman gave her a startled look but recovered quickly. “Do you have a reservation?” she asked, glancing down at the thick book on the hostess stand.

  “I—I think so,” Liz said. She realized that the hostess must have heard the news. I suppose all of New York City knows the Devlin name now—and not just for the records and movies they’ve produced.

  “Ah, yes, here it is.” The hostess smiled graciously at Liz, obviously wanting to make up for her almost faux pas. “Mr. Devlin hasn’t arrived yet. Would you like to wait in the lounge or at the table?”

  “The table, please,” Liz said, beginning to feel a little self-conscious standing alone and surrounded by so many beautiful people.

  “And may I check your coat?” the hostess offered.

  “Thanks,” Liz said, handing over her heavy winter coat.

  The hostess nodded to a handsome young man in a severe black jacket and baggy black pants. He strode over to the hostess stand. “Giancarlo will see you to your table,” the hostess said.

  “This way, please,” Giancarlo said in a melodic Italian accent.

  Liz followed him through the candlelit restaurant. The bar area was set up as a lounge, with cozy love seats and overstuffed chairs and small tables scattered around. Giancarlo led her past a wide staircase leading downstairs.

  “What’s down there?” Liz asked.

  “The dance floor,” Giancarlo explained. “And another bar. Here we are.”

  He placed two menus on a table near a window in the dining area. In the center of the table was a small bowl of water with a flower floating in it. Liz sat down and admired the soft lighting, the jewel like tones of the tablecloth and napkins, and the luxurious leather of the seats. The effect was rich but not pretentious, fancy but fun.

  “This place is beautiful,” Liz murmured.

  “That’s why you fit in so well,” Parker said, arriving at the table. He turned to Giancarlo. “Can you bring us a couple of mango-tinis?”

  “Of course.” Giancarlo vanished into the cavernous space.

  Parker gave Liz a quick kiss and then dropped into the seat opposite her. He seemed a bit distracted. Liz wondered if maybe he was high.

  “So, Gorgeous,” he said. “What do you think of the joint?”

  “It’s fantastic, of course. But—”

  “Only the best, right?”

  There was an edge to Parker’s voice that was new. He wasn’t high, Liz realized. He was totally stressed. Liz was certain he’d feel better if he opened up to her.

  “Parker,” she said softly, “what is going on?”

  A cloud passed across his face. He drummed his fingers on the table. Giancarlo reappeared
with the drinks. Liz waited patiently for the waiter to set their glasses down and leave them alone—she was pretty certain Parker was not going to confide in her with anyone in earshot.

  “Parker?” Liz pressed.

  “You sure you want to hear this?” he asked.

  Liz nodded.

  He took a sip of his mango-flavored drink. “Just remember—you asked. Okay. Let’s see. Where do I begin? It’s all such a mess.”

  “Was this a huge shock to you?” Liz asked.

  “Things have been weird for a while,” Parker admitted. “My dad was always a workaholic, but he went into over-drive about two months ago. He even started bringing work home.” Parker gave a sharp bitter laugh. “Well, at first I thought it was work. Mostly it was stuff he was shredding. I asked him what was going on, and at first he wouldn’t tell me. Finally, he confessed that he was in big trouble.” Parker looked at her sadly. “He wanted me to help him figure out how to break it to my mom.”

  “And did you?” Liz asked.

  Parker shook his head. “I just told him to tell her before she heard about it on the news. The way everyone else did. The way the entire world did.”

  Liz reached for his hand, but he picked up his glass instead.

  “Mom freaked. She started screaming that she had always known he was a crook, and that he had disgraced the family, and that she never should have married him because he was such a social step down.”

  “She said that?” Liz said with horror. She couldn’t imagine her mother saying something so cruel to her about her dad. Even when her parents were going through their divorce, neither of them had said anything negative about the other in front of her.

  “Yup, she said that,” Parker said. He held up his glass again and clinked Liz’s. “To Devlin family values.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Liz said. “So that explains the phone calls and the weird behavior.”

  “Pretty much.” Parker nodded. “That was Dad keeping me posted on what was happening with all of the subpoenas and meetings and stuff.”

  “So now what happens?” Liz asked.

  “Well, unless Dad’s lawyers can work out a legal miracle, the Devlins and our so-called ‘media empire’ are through.”

  “Everything will be fine,” Liz assured him. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how lame she sounded. Parker’s expression confirmed it.

  “How can you possibly say that?” he demanded, his voice incredulous. “Trust me, Liz, as this case gets more publicity—and believe me, it will—everyone in New York will cut me and my family off. I’ve seen it happen to other families.”

  “It won’t happen with me, Parker,” Liz said. “I never cared about the money. I care about you.”

  “You know what?” Parker said. “Let’s stop talking about this. Let’s just have a nice time, eat a great dinner, have some fantastic desserts, and then do some serious dancing downstairs.”

  Liz forced herself to smile. “Works for me,” she said lightly. But she could tell something had changed. She only hoped it wasn’t their whole relationship.

  “Great tunes,” Parker shouted into Liz’s ear.

  Liz nodded; she knew there was no point in trying to be heard over the loud sound system. They had finished dinner and were dancing in the downstairs lounge.

  Parker pulled Liz into him and kissed her. “Ready to go?”

  Liz nodded. By the time they had gotten their entrées, the tension between them had lifted. Liz felt as if they were finally back on track. Parker took her hand and led her up to their table again.

  Giancarlo instantly reappeared. “Anything else?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” Parker said, “just the bill, please.”

  “Now,” Liz said, reaching for her purse, “I insist, we are splitting this.”

  Parker smiled. “You’re sweet,” he said, “but no. I’m not that broke yet.”

  The check came, and Parker didn’t even look at it—he just threw his black American Express Card on it. The first time Liz saw the card she hadn’t even been sure what it was—it looked so weird. That’s when Parker explained that the black “Centurion” Card was only for people who spent more than $100,000 a month. Parker had had one since he was twelve, courtesy of his father.

  They smiled at each other as they waited for Giancarlo to come back. Liz was already anticipating being alone with Parker in the town car. From the way he was looking at her, she had a feeling he was looking forward to the same thing.

  Giancarlo returned and leaned close to Parker. Liz could barely hear him as he said, “Sir, would you like to try another card?”

  “Is there a problem?” Parker asked.

  “I’d suggest trying another one,” Giancarlo said.

  Parker shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Just bring back the other one.”

  “Sir,” Giancarlo whispered, “I’m afraid American Express asked me to keep it. I would lose my job if I returned it. Would you like to try another card?”

  Liz looked at Parker. She suddenly knew that he didn’t have another card. He had never needed one other than the black AmEx.

  “I’ll handle this,” Liz said. “Do you take cash?”

  “More than pleased to,” Giancarlo said, obviously relieved that there would be no scene.

  “Liz, you can’t,” Parker said, his face reddening.

  “I can, and I will,” Liz said, taking the check. She opened it up and glanced at it.

  Liz blinked, staring at the shockingly high number. With tip, she’d have about twenty dollars left for the rest of the weekend, and no more cash until she got paid next week. And there went the two hundred dollars a week she was supposed to be putting aside for college. Liz swallowed, then placed the money in the folder.

  “Any change?” the waiter asked.

  “No, that’s fine,” Liz said.

  “Thank you,” Giancarlo said, and zoomed off.

  Parker rose without a word and moved quickly out of the restaurant, not even glancing back at Liz.

  Liz followed him, then realized the hostess had taken her coat. She redeemed the coat check ticket, plunking down five, then raced out into the street. Parker was walking east and didn’t even seem to care that he’d left her behind.

  “Parker!” she called. “Parker, wait a sec.”

  He spun around and she ran to catch up with him. “What?” he demanded. “Are you happy? Did you have a nice time watching me get humiliated in there?”

  Liz was aghast. “What are you talking about?” she asked, completely perplexed. “When the card got rejected, I didn’t see the problem in paying. You’ve paid so much for me. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal!” Parker shouted. “In all my life, I’ve never been so embarrassed. I couldn’t pay the check, and so a nanny lays out her babysitting money to cover my meal? Do you realize how twisted that is?”

  Liz stepped back as if she had been struck. How can he be saying this to me?

  “I just can’t do this,” Parker said. “This is just way too hard. Until this is all straightened out, I just can’t—” He shook his head. “I’m done.”

  Parker spun around and ran across Greenwich Street, leaving Liz behind on the sidewalk, stunned.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  unsteady gait

  Liz stood leaning against the wall of the Claremont Riding Academy, her eyes half closed. After her miserable evening with Parker, she had gone to Adrienne’s as planned. She and Adrienne had rehashed the scene over and over, examining every detail, every word he’d said. But even though Adrienne was her best friend, she couldn’t fix the hurt Parker had caused. After Adrienne had finally conked out, Liz cried herself to sleep.

  Now, at quarter past eight in the morning, Liz stared gloomily into the tiny Claremont riding ring. Luckily, David was spending the day with a socially acceptable playmate, so she only had Heather to worry about.

  I really should have refused this extra workday, Liz thought, although after last nig
ht, the additional money would help make up for the money she’d spent on dinner instead of her college fund.

  Heather, saddled up on Mindreader’s back, clung to the reins with her face frozen in the mingled expression of terror and misery that had become her trademark.

  “Heather!” Alexandra Winters shouted. “You look like a rag doll out there! Post, child! Post!”

  Heather attempted to lift herself in the saddle, but with each attempt, she smashed back into the rising saddle of the trotting horse.

  “You have an unsteady gait! Stop!” Ms. Winters moved into the ring and, with one sharp look at Mindreader, she stopped the horse in its tracks. She walked over and grabbed the horse’s bridle so she could talk to Heather.

  “Can’t you feel the horse’s rhythm?” she asked.

  “All I feel is sick,” Heather whined.

  “Come on, Heather, I know that you can do this.”

  “Every time I go down, she goes up,” Heather complained.

  “Watch her right front leg,” Ms. Winters instructed. “When her right front leg goes forward, she’ll be coming up. What does that mean?”

  “When her leg goes forward, I go up?” Heather asked.

  “If you’re going counterclockwise in a ring, yes. Just pay attention to the rise and fall of her haunch. Now try again.”

  Heather sighed, and Mindreader slowly moved into a trot. As Liz watched, Heather’s petrified expression gave way to astonishment as she began to rise and fall correctly.

  Mindreader snorted approvingly. It was obvious that she had hated Heather smashing onto her back as much as Heather had.

  “Good girl, Heather!” Ms. Winters shouted. “Can you feel the rhythm?”

  “Yes!” Heather shouted.

  “Okay,” Ms. Winters shouted. “Now keep posting while I have the horse change direction!”

  Liz held her breath—she really hoped Heather was up to the task.

  Ms. Winters tugged Mindreader’s lead line, and the horse did a figure eight in the ring, switching directions. As the gait changed, Heather changed with it in a seamless post.