by Julia London
Putz.
Sometimes, late at night when he was sitting on his deck in the Hollywood Hills and staring out over the valley, he would think back to the eighteen months he spent with that woman, remembering how incredible it felt to be in love, to feel so strongly about another person that you’d do anything for them. He wondered if he would ever be able to do that again.
He was fearful of it, truth be known. He was afraid of being King Putz again. He was afraid of that deep, soul-wrenching ache that went with it.
But it wasn’t really a problem, Eli thought as he walked out into bright California sunshine, because he didn’t meet a lot of women unless he was on a set, and after his experience with Trish, he treated starlets like lepers and just stayed the hell away. In fact, he couldn’t think of a woman he’d met in the last several months.
Well. There was Marnie. But she didn’t count.
So what if she had that sunny smile that could make a guy’s balls tighten a little? It didn’t mean anything. He’d just noticed, that was all, which meant he wasn’t completely dead.
At the moment, it only served to remind him that he needed to call her and make sure Olivia hadn’t gone off the deep end. While he waited for Jack, he tapped her number into his cell phone.
“Hello!”
He recognized the singing voice as Marnie’s mother, with whom he was becoming very well acquainted. “Hi, Mrs. Banks. Eli McCain.”
“Oh, hello, Eli! How are you today?” she trilled.
“Great. Is Marnie around?”
“Oh no, she’s gone shopping. And you’ll never guess with who!”
Oh Christ. “Who?” he asked obligingly, knowing very well who.
“Olivia Dagwood!” her mom shrieked in a whisper. “She drove here herself and picked Marnie up!”
Great. Fabulous. He’d told Marnie that Olivia was not to drive. The paparazzi would be all over her, and if they found out who Marnie was, the whole thing would be blown. And he could just imagine what was going on with the so-called shopping trip, too. He didn’t trust Olivia Dagwood as far as he could throw her, and given that she might weigh ninety-five pounds, that was pretty damn far.
“Does Marnie have a cell phone, Mrs. Banks?” he asked.
“No, she doesn’t,” her mother sighed. “I’m upset with her about that because I think she needs one, you know, because women can’t be too careful these days. But what did she do? She cancelled her cell phone because she couldn’t afford it. Now her father and I offered to pay for it, but she said oh no, she has her pride and—”
“Well, if you hear from her, would you ask her to give me a call?” he politely interrupted. “She has my number.”
“Oh sure, sure, I’ll do that. Bye now!” she sang, and clicked off.
Eli frowned, punched the phone book on his cell, and retrieved Vince’s number. Maybe Vince would have Olivia’s cell phone number on him.
They were supposed to be brainstorming ideas for Olivia’s wedding organizer. Marnie had sectioned it into budget, task timelines, vendors, themes, food, flowers, decorations, and photography. But Olivia was adamant about starting their talks with the wedding cake. Her idea for a wedding cake was pretty spectacular, too—six tiers and covered in edible flowers. Pretty fancy for a woman who really wasn’t into weddings.
“Remember,” Marnie said gently, “that we’ll have to have it flown in.”
“How much could it cost? And besides, have you ever been to a wedding that didn’t have a cake?” Olivia had asked forlornly on the phone. “I can’t even think about a wedding if I can’t have cake.”
That sounded very Marie Antoinette-ish, but Marnie figured Olivia had to be a little goofy to be such a great actress. Didn’t all artists have their quirks? “Okay,” she said slowly, her mind already racing ahead to how they’d have a wedding cake from some famous chef flown in.
“Listen, why don’t we meet for coffee and make a list of potential chefs I would even consider,” Olivia suggested brightly. Marnie was all over that idea and suggested a couple of low-profile places they could meet up. She was certain Eli would be proud of her for thinking low-profile.
But Olivia blew that by saying, “Oh, I’ll just pick you up!”
Warning bells sounded in Marnie’s brain—Eli had said Olivia was not to drive and risk putting the paparazzi on their trail.
“Ah…why don’t I come to you—”
“Nonsense! Anyway, I just got a brand new Lamborghini SUV and I am dying to take it out,” Olivia said brightly. “Don’t you want to ride in it?”
Well, of course she did. Who wouldn’t want to ride in a Lamborghini anything? Okay, maybe there was one stick-in-the mud who sprang to mind—she could see Eli in her mind’s eye, and he didn’t like it.
But she didn’t say no.
When Olivia arrived, she did not slip into the neighborhood unnoticed. All the men on the street who were out tending their lawns stopped whatever they were doing to watch her SUV slide by, and even worse, Mom’s book club—who Marnie was beginning to believe lived in the basement—were all in the living room.
She knew her ride had arrived when she heard the collective squeal down the hall as they all rushed out to meet Olivia Dagwood.
The megastar was extremely gracious, and even signed autographs for the ladies. Marnie actually had to push her way through them to get to the vehicle, and practically had to pull Linda Farrino out of the passenger seat.
Mrs. Farrino did not take kindly to being pulled out of the Lamborghini. She pushed Marnie back from the car a little and went toe-to-toe with her, her hands on her hips. “You better watch it, little miss,” she said hotly. “Do you remember how I used to spank you?”
“Are you…are you threatening to spank me?” Marnie asked, aghast.
“Marnie, mind your manners!” Mom added hotly.
“Sorry, Mrs. Farrino,” Marnie muttered, but quickly stepped around her and dove into the car and pulled the door shut before the woman could stick her overprocessed head inside once more.
Olivia smiled and waved, but hit the gas and tore away from the neighborhood crowd that was growing. “Why does anyone want an autograph?” she demanded of Marnie. “What good is it? I don’t understand why people won’t just leave me alone. Am I not allowed to drive on a street? Must I be accosted everywhere I go?”
Okay, that was asking a little much, Marnie thought, seeing as how Olivia was a huge movie star and was driving a Lamborghini, of all things, on a street right smack dab in the middle-class neighborhood of Hancock Park. These people crowded around the mailman, for heaven’s sake!
Fortunately, Olivia seemed to get over it, and as they drove into Beverly Hills, she looked around at every stoplight wondering aloud when the paparazzi were going to jump out and start snapping photos.
“I can’t believe they haven’t picked me up yet,” she muttered. “They really haven’t picked me up yet,” she repeated, frowning slightly as she drummed her fingers nervously against her wheel. “Oh well. It’s only a matter of time.”
Honestly, Marnie couldn’t tell if Olivia was miffed that it was taking them so long to jump out or that they would eventually invade her privacy.
Olivia turned off Venice Boulevard and made a couple of more turns, then finally turned into a residential neighborhood and into the drive of a typical California bungalow. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said breezily to Marnie’s puzzled look, “but I need to see my spiritual advisor something awful. Are you into Kabbalah?”
“Ah…not really,” Marnie said. “I’m not really sure what it is.”
“No!” Olivia exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Everyone is into Kabbalah. Come in and meet Ari. He’s wonderful,” she said with a dreamy smile.
“Ari?”
“My spiritual advisor,” she said, and hopped out of the car. “He practices a new kind of Kabbalah.”
Marnie followed Olivia, and as she stepped inside, she stifled a gasp of surprise.
Inside looked like a fanc
y spa. There was a fountain in the middle of the front room, a cherub standing on one foot and spouting water. The floors were teak, the walls were painted a deep red, and the smell of incense wafted through the air. Light was provided by a set of very low-hung Chinese lanterns. There wasn’t any furniture to speak of, just two teak stools in a minimalist decor.
A tall man with a close-cropped beard and a ponytail stepped through some beads hanging across a doorway. He was wearing a Hawaiian camp shirt, linen pants, and leather sandals, and when he saw Olivia, he smiled and held his arms wide. “Ah, my little raindrop,” he said kindly, and Olivia dropped her bag on one stool and rushed across the room into his arms.
He engulfed her tiny body in a bear hug and held her tightly to him for a moment. Then he loosened his grip and glanced up at Marnie. “Where is your Lucy?”
“She has the day off,” Olivia said. “This is my friend, Marnie.”
“Ah,” he said, putting a big hand on top of Olivia’s shoulders. “Is Marnie a believer?”
“Not yet,” Olivia chirped.
Ari chuckled and let go of Olivia. He very languidly glided forward to stand before Marnie, then placed both hands on her shoulders and smiled. “Marnie. If you are not to yourself, then who is?”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
He laughed gently. “Little sunburst, that is what I shall call you, for you have the sun in your mien.”
Marnie had no idea what that meant, much less what to say, so she gave him a very weak smile. He laughed again and turned around, walked to where Olivia was standing, and put his hand on her back. “Come, little raindrop, and let us see what life has in store for you today.”
“Watch my stuff, will you, Marnie?” Olivia asked, but she was gazing up at her advisor like a puppy.
Marnie watched them disappear through the beads, then glanced around the room. She took the empty stool, picked up Olivia’s bag, and balanced it in her lap, wondering why everything in this town had to make her feel so huge.
The ringing of Olivia’s cell phone startled her out of her wits—it sounded ferocious in the bare room.
She gaped down at Olivia’s bag—who was calling her? Who? Her director? Her agent? Her mom? That’s who called Marnie all the time when she had a cell phone, which was why she didn’t have a cell phone—wait. What if it was Vincent Vittorio?
The thought that she had completely lost her mind flitted across her brain somewhere, but it was too late—Marnie had already reached into Olivia’s bag and snatched the phone and tapped to answer.
“Hello?” she whispered breathlessly.
There was no response for a long moment. Then Eli drawled, “Well, I guess you two have hit it off real well if you’re answering her phone.”
“She’s not here right now,” Marnie whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because she’s inside with her spiritual advisor.”
“Ah, for the love of—what are you doing, Marnie?” he demanded in that bossy way he had going on.
“Sssh,” she cautioned him, forgetting for a moment that no one could hear him but her. “I’m not doing anything. We were going to grab a latte and make a list of chefs for her wedding cake, but she needed to see her spiritual advisor.”
“A cake.” He said it like he’d never heard of wedding cake before.
“A wedding cake,” she clarified in a whisper.
“You need a chef for that?”
“Yes, you need a cake chef for that.”
“And how are you going to get this chef’s cake to Colorado?” he demanded a little testily.
But it was, she had to admit, an excellent question. “I haven’t thought through everything yet. But I’ll think of a way.”
“Maybe you better think again, because we didn’t budget for a chef to make a cake.”
Okay, now the dude was really beginning to annoy her. Her fruit was too big, she wasn’t supposed to drive around with Olivia, they didn’t have money for a cake chef…“Well, maybe the budget needs to be rearranged,” she said pertly.
There was dead silence on the other end of the line, and then a low, throaty chuckle that swirled up her spine. “I think you and I ought to get together and go over what damage you and Olivia have managed to rack up so far,” he said. “Maybe rearrange that budget, as you suggest. I’m going to be out of town for a couple days. Are you free for dinner later or are you having some lettuce leaves with your new best friend Olivia?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall seeing a clause in the contract you made me sign that said I couldn’t be friends with Olivia.”
“Olivia doesn’t have friends. She has keepers—don’t confuse the two.”
Now she was just pissed. He probably thought she wasn’t up to snuff for Olivia. Single. Living at home. Frumpy clothes. Well, maybe she wasn’t up to snuff, but she would be by the time this was over. “Thanks for your advice, Eli, but I’m a big girl. I think I can handle it.”
“All right, so handle it. Get rid of the cake. Are you free for dinner?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Marnie lied. “I’ll call you later.”
He laughed again. “I think Mom and Dad will let you out. I’ll swing by and pick you up around eight…all right?”
“Whatever,” she muttered.
“See you,” he said and hung up. She made a face at the cell phone and tossed it back inside Olivia’s bag. She was thinking that he was awfully good-looking to be so bossy when a moan from the back of the room startled her; she jerked her head up and stared at the beads in the doorway, still swinging slightly from Olivia and Ari’s push through.
She heard another moan and felt a tingle in her groin. Slowly, she stood up…could that sound be what she thought it was? Nah. No way. Ari was her spiritual advisor.
But when Olivia emerged a half hour later, she was smiling that dreamy smile, and her hair was mussed and her little miniskirt was twisted around.
“You should really check out this new Kabbalah,” she said sweetly as she picked up her bag. “Come on, I could really use a smoke.”
Marnie looked back at the beads swinging in the doorway again, then dumbly followed Olivia out, her jaw practically dragging on the floor.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marnie’s folks lived in a standard-issue California bungalow that looked like it had been built circa 1930. It had a tile roof, a back alley and garage, and lots of windows. In the drive were a Buick Regal, a Dodge Spirit van, and the smallest BMW they made.
As Eli climbed out of his Z-250 pickup truck, he absently wondered how many times a teenaged Marnie had climbed out a crankcase window in the middle of the night to terrorize the neighborhood, because he could certainly envision it. If her audition was any indication, it was a fortunate thing her house wasn’t a split-level, or she probably would have hurt herself trying to climb down a tree.
He actually smiled at that visual image as he walked up the drive.
A man with silver-gray hair and a little taller than Marnie appeared from the detached garage and stood just below the roof eaves, eyeing Eli curiously. He was holding a rag and polishing something in his hand. “Hello there,” he said. “Friend of Marnie’s?”
“Yeah…Eli McCain,” Eli said, striding forward to shake the man’s hand.
“Bob Banks,” he said, wiping his hand before taking Eli’s. “She’s inside with her mother and the book club. Just knock on the door there, and if they don’t hear you, go on inside. I’ll warn you, it’s a gaggle of geese—they can’t hear one another speak because they all talk at once.”
He said it with a grimace that Eli understood very well. “Thanks for the warning,” he said with a grin, and walked on to the front door.
He hadn’t even reached the porch before two women appeared behind the glass storm door to peer out at him. They were wearing tight tank tops and short skirts. Both of them were holding tumblers with a suspicious-looking, tea-colored liquid.
One of them said so
mething to the other, and they both lit up like twin Christmas trees.
The woman with dark red hair flung open the glass storm door. A huge, lumbering mutt came bounding out and launched himself and his nose at Eli’s crotch. “Well, come in, stranger,” the woman insisted, while the other woman laughed unabashedly at the dog’s sniffing of him. “Bingo, stop that!”
That laughter, as it turned out, was the call of the wild, for three more women suddenly appeared behind them, all dressed in short pants or tight skirts, and all holding identical tumblers with a drink that was most definitely not tea.
“Don’t be afraid,” the woman with yellow hair called out. “It’s not like we’re going to eat you.”
That prompted another howl of laughter from all the women. Eli stopped midstride. The woman with the dark red hair instantly stepped outside and smiled at him—Marnie’s smile.
“Mrs. Banks?”
“How could you tell? Come on in, Eli, and don’t mind us. We’re just having a little fun. It’s not often we get such a handsome man at the door, you know. Girls, this is Eli. Now Eli, don’t call me Mrs. Banks. That makes me sound so old. I’m Carol, just call me Carol. And this is Linda, she lives next door and has for thirty years, and that’s Alicia who lives in the cute blue house right over there, and Bev who lives behind me—you can’t see her house, but if you come in, we’ll show you her pool, and last but not least, that’s Diane, who moved into the brown ranch house four years ago. We weren’t looking to expand our group, but we let her in the day she showed up with a margarita machine.”
The five of them howled again.
Eli really wished he’d had the presence of mind to have Marnie meet him somewhere. “Ah…pleasure to meet you, ladies,” he said uncertainly. “Is Marnie in there anywhere?” he asked, gesturing to the house. “Or did you eat her?”
The women looked at one another for a moment of surprise, then laughed uproariously again. “Bring him in here, Carol,” one of them demanded. “Let us play with him a little before Marnie gets him.” And before Eli could react, he was being ushered inside to a front room with a full view of the street as the dog pranced excitedly along with them.
