Dear California (Martin Family Book 2)

by Brooke St. James

  Dear

  California

  By:

  Brooke St. James

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2016

  Brooke St. James

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Other titles available from Brooke St. James:

  Another Shot:

  A Modern-Day Ruth and Boaz Story

  When Lightning Strikes

  Something of a Storm (All in Good Time #1)

  Someone Someday (All in Good Time #2)

  Finally My Forever (Meant for Me #1)

  Finally My Heart's Desire (Meant for Me #2)

  Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me #3)

  Shot by Cupid's Arrow

  Dreams of Us

  Meet Me in Myrtle Beach (Hunt Family #1)

  Kiss Me in Carolina (Hunt Family #2)

  California's Calling (Hunt Family #3)

  Back to the Beach (Hunt Family #4)

  It's About Time (Hunt Family #5)

  Loved Bayou (Martin Family #1)

  Chapter 1

  Most women in their twenties would dream of having my life. Heck, most women of any age would, for that matter. I was born into a life of luxury. My father was a real estate and retail giant in Spain before moving to America in search of a bride. He was rich in addition to being tall, dark, and handsome, and finding his soul mate was like shooting fish in a barrel.

  Dad was scientific and calculating in his choice of who to pursue. He thought about how his attributes, combined with those of his wife, would affect his future offspring, and he married accordingly. My mother was the daughter of a California state senator. She was brilliant, graduating from UCLA at the top of her class, and more than that, she was strikingly beautiful. My dad married my mom because he wanted to make beautiful, intelligent babies.

  He was thirty-three when they married, and my mom was eleven years his junior. In spite of the somewhat odd and calculated beginnings of their relationship, my parents had stayed together all these years, and had a pretty healthy marriage to show for it.

  My name is Olivia, and I am the middle child of Pepe and Annie Torres.

  My dad's real estate and retail ventures continued after his move to America. He developed and sold a ton of retail space, but perhaps his greatest claim to fame was his upscale athletic clothing line called Square Root. It was stylish but functional fitness clothing that had caught on first in Los Angeles, and was now in demand worldwide. His clothing line was currently in its heyday, which meant my dad was very wealthy and very busy.

  My older brother, Nico, followed in Dad's footsteps, but my sister and I had a different thing going. It was mostly her thing, actually, but I was roped into it from the start, and we'd always been a team even though my partnership was reluctant at best.

  The whirlwind life I'd been a part of during the last four years was the brainchild of my sister, Estela. I was officially living her dream life and not mine. (Not that I made a habit of complaining because I didn't.) As a duo, we were "Liv and Tel", which was obviously short for Olivia and Estela. I usually went by Liv or Livy, and we often called Estela Tels, or Tely. She thought of using "Liv and Tel" as our brand name when she was eighteen, and things had basically been chaos since then. We started with a fashion blog and then a vlog, and now between all of our social media accounts, we had nearly twenty million followers.

  We were Los Angeles socialites who traveled the world, eating expensive food, wearing expensive clothes, and staying at world-class resorts. We rubbed elbows with Hollywood's elite and regularly appeared in gossip magazines and on entertainment TV shows. Maybe that sounds appealing, but honestly, I felt like every waking moment of my life was being documented—like my existence, from the time I woke up to the time I went to bed, was one big photo shoot.

  Please don't get me wrong. I am totally aware of how fortunate I am. I'm essentially famous for being famous. I get that, and I'm thankful. Estela and I make a living by traveling the world, exploring new fashion trends. In our videos, I play myself to an extent. I'm the more reluctant traveler while my sister is the one hanging off of cliffs and giving me a heart attack half the time. She always holds onto the funny things I say when she comes to me with another one of her hair-brained schemes. I usually have some sort of come-back for how ridiculous she is acting, and phrases such as, "You're making me need a nap," had been coined and turned into graphic T-shirts. It started when I wore a hand-lettered version of one of them in a photo we posted. It had such a huge response that my dad released a "Liv and Tel" line of T-shirts with his clothing company. My father, ever the businessman, had found a way to capitalize on our success, and so far the shirts were a hit. I was thankful for this since a portion of all the sales went straight to Estela and me.

  I didn't feel bad about making good money. I knew this type of fame could only last so long, and as far as I was concerned, it was a trade off for how hard I worked. You see, right when I get up in the morning, I have two hours of hair, makeup, and styling—even a "wake-up" photo with "no makeup" in an oversized bathrobe with a mug of coffee was a calculated shot. Estela and I had a live-in stylist and photographer who traveled with us, both of whom doubled as our assistants when we needed it.

  I had no idea how we had so many followers, but we did. Our life was basically making it look like we had a great life, which seemed crazy, even to me. Please don't assume I'm ungrateful because I'm not. I really do know how fortunate I am. All I'm saying (and I think I might have mentioned it once already) is that I was currently living my sister's dream life and not mine. If it was up to me, I'd take one or two trips a year and spend the rest of my life in one location, living a normal life where I did things like, go to the grocery store, and cook a meal of food for myself in my own kitchen. I wanted a reading nook. I wanted to walk around my house like a normal person and not care if my makeup and outfit looked perfect all the time.

  It was for this reason that I decided to try something different—make a change.

  Estela and I were home in L.A. for two weeks, so I worked up a few sketches and ideas to present to my dad. I had an eye for fashion, and I thought maybe if I started working at his clothing company I would conveniently not be able to travel quite as much.

  I'll bet you're wondering why I don't just reason with my sister and cut back on traveling. I could go into how intense and driven Estela is, or we could just say that quitting was easier said than done. After four years of continual parties and photo shoots, I was starting to fear my sister would never tire of it. I tried to tell her she could go on some of the trips without me, but our whole schtick was the funny way we played off of each other. Plus, we looked enough alike that people thought we were twins, which made for long-running jokes that our followers enjoyed. We were destined to be a duo, which I didn't mind; I just wished we could come to some sort of compromise on our grueling travel schedule, or the things we wanted to do and not do.

  "Are you bringing all that stuff up to the office to see Dad?"
Estela asked when I came downstairs carrying my oversized portfolio case.

  "Yes," I said, looking at her like she was a little crazy since she'd already asked me that question two other times. I set down my portfolio and opened the fridge in search of a bottle of water.

  "Why would you do that when he lives in this house?" she asked.

  "Because I want him to take me seriously," I said. I looked at her from across the bar, but she was staring down at her phone.

  "All you have to do is tell him you want a job, and he'll give you one," she said. "You're his daughter. And why do you want to work there anyway? All it's gonna do is tie you to L.A."

  "Maybe I want to be a little tied down, Tels."

  "Are you trying to quit Liv and Tel?" she asked, with an injured scowl on her face.

  "I've been telling you for two years that I wanted to scale back a little bit—slow down."

  Her face crumpled into a mask of confusion. "Slow down? You're twenty-four, Livy, not eighty-four."

  "Yeah, but this whole Liv and Tel thing was your thing. We've been at it for a long time. I just want to add some staying home into the mix. You know, slow down a little, and maybe work a normal job."

  She stared at me. I knew she was going to say something about my appearance, because of the facial expression she'd been wearing. "Please don't wear those glasses out," she said finally. "It's bad enough that you read and knit in your spare time. You don't need the granny glasses to go with it." She reached across the bar in an effort to remove my horn-rimmed glasses, but I easily dodged her efforts, looking at her like she had lost her mind for even trying.

  "This granny can wrestle," I said, pointing at her.

  "Tell that to dad for one of your T-shirts," she said.

  "I might," I said, shrugging unapologetically as I straightened my glasses.

  "I'm gonna be mad at you if you get a job and you have to start missing some of our trips," she said. "That's gonna change our whole career. It's not just about you. You're messing with both of us."

  See what I'm dealing with here?

  "Estela, I'm not going to go ninety to nothing like this forever. I don't like traveling all the time. This isn't news to you, either. You knew there'd come a time when I'd want to make some changes. I'm not saying never take a trip again. I just want to be mostly home and partly gone instead of the other way around."

  She sighed dramatically and collapsed onto the table as if she just couldn’t hold up her upper body any longer.

  "You knew I was doing this today," I said. "I've been working on this stuff for weeks. Don't act like you're shocked."

  "I just thought when it came time, you'd chicken out, or I'd be able to talk you out of it. There's no point in having a job at Dad's company if you make more money by doing nothing, Olivia. You're out of your mind."

  "It seems like I'm out of my mind, Estela, because what we're doing feels like nothing to you. You have fun taking trips and posing for pictures. To me, that stuff is harder work than coming up with design ideas for Dad's company. I hate flying, I hate getting a full face of makeup, and I get allergies every time we get to a new hotel."

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, wanh!" she said like I was being a baby.

  I widened my eyes at her. "Wanh to you for not wanting me to go talk to dad," I said. "I've been going along with everything you wanted to do for the last four years."

  "Yeah, and now we're rich and famous."

  "I don't care about being rich or famous," I said. "That's what I'm saying. It's your thing."

  She stared straight at me. "You're gonna mess everything up."

  "Or maybe I'll make it better," I said throwing my hands up.

  "I'm calling Tyson to go with you," she said. "If you're gonna go through with it, we should post you showing Dad your portfolio."

  Tyson was our traveling photographer. He was with us all the time on the road, so he took some time off when we came back to L.A. He was on call, but we usually just took our own photos while we were home.

  "Don't call Tyson," I said. "I'll get someone to snap a picture while I'm there."

  "I'm gonna get him to come," she said, shaking her head. "You look cute with your little satchel. You look artsy." She came around the bar and ran her fingers through my hair. "You just need to lose the glasses and put on a little more mascara and lipstick."

  "I already put on mascara."

  "Just add a little more, and some lip-gloss, and we'll hit the road."

  "What do you mean we'll?"

  She paused, staring at me with an unreadable expression. "I should probably go too," she said. "Not to interfere with your presentation or anything, but to offer support. It'll be good. Tyson will come, too, and we'll get some good photo ops of you being all artistic and grown-up."

  I sighed, knowing there was no use in arguing. "I'm leaving in ten minutes with or without you guys," I said.

  Chapter 2

  Cole

  Cole Martin was also born into a wealthy family, but unlike Olivia, Cole spent most of his life in one place and had a relatively simple existence. His home had always been the swamps of Louisiana. His immediate and extended family lived on adjoining waterfront property on the south side of New Orleans. It was a Martin Family compound—his brother, parents, uncle, and cousins all lived on the same fifty-acre stretch of land that ran along one of Louisiana's many intercostal waterways. Even his grandparents weren't far away.

  Everybody knew the Martins down there. Not just because there were so many of them, but also because Cole's father, Steve, (along with his brother, Mitch) started a little business called Martin Outfitters, which was now one of the largest sporting goods and hunting supply chains in America. The small business they developed in a tiny town on the outskirts of New Orleans was now a multi-million dollar enterprise. Cole and his brother, Cam, along with their cousin, Alex, were set to take over as directors when their fathers retired, and Cole was more than ready. He loved his job. He loved the family business and was willing to do whatever it took to make it a success. Cole's dad knew how committed he was. This was why he was in the middle of asking Cole to go to California for a meeting.

  "You and Alex both came to me saying we should get this brand," Steve said, trying to convince his son of the importance of his trip.

  "I do think we should get it," Cole said.

  "Does that mean you'll go out there and talk to him about it?" Steve asked.

  Cole looked at his father with a confused expression. "Can I try to email him first?" he asked. "Or call?"

  "I talked to him on the phone," Steve said, shaking his head. "He's foreign. He's got an accent, and I think he prefers dealing face-to-face. I think he thinks his brand's too exclusive for us."

  "Did you tell him we have North Face and Patagonia?" Cole asked.

  "Yeah, but he didn't seem to care."

  "He'd be crazy not to try to come to terms with us," Cole said. "A deal with us would be a game changer for his brand."

  "Well, I need you to go over there and tell him that, because I can't talk to him on the phone. He's a fast talker, and he comes across as impatient. I'm not even sure if he really even understood who I was and what I was proposing when I talked to him."

  Cole sighed while considering a trip to California. It was the dead of summer in steamy Louisiana, so he figured the weather there, whatever it was, would at least be a relief.

  "I'll go talk to him," Cole said. "Give me a few days to do my homework, and I'll go out there."

  Steve clapped his hand on his son's shoulder. "Thank you," he said. "And why don't you take a few days off while you're out there? It's been a while since you've been out to that part of the country. Rent a classic car and drive up to wine country."

  Cole raised an eyebrow at his dad. "Wine country, Dad?"

  "Sure," he said. "You can take your brother."

  "I'll just go," Cole said. "And I don't need a big vacation. Just have Carla book enough time to meet with the guy."

&n
bsp; "I'll give you his contact info so you can set up something with Mr. Torres next week. Carla will work out your travel plans."

  "Perfect," Cole said.

  "You sure you don't want your brother to go?"

  Cole smiled. "I'm sure. I got it. I doubt Jolene would let him out of her sight for three days, anyway."

  Steve grimaced. "Maybe that's all the more reason for him to go."

  Cole shook his head. He knew Cam would decline if he asked him. "I'll take care of this one," he said. "Cam and I have that trip to Alaska coming up. Jolene wouldn't appreciate it if he planned another trip on top of that."

  "I guess he likes her," Steve said.

  Cole shrugged instead of giving his opinion since the ins and outs of his brother's relationship weren't really any of his business. "I guess," he said.

  ***

  Arrangements were made, and before long, Cole Martin was checking into a hotel in Los Angeles, California. He was thankful Carla had booked his flight for the day before his meeting because delays leaving New Orleans put him there at 8PM that evening instead of 11AM as he originally planned.

  He was supposed to see Pepe Torres at noon the following day for a brief introduction, followed by lunch. Cole had proposed the lunch meeting since he was comfortable in a food-sharing environment, and Pepe was in a good mood when the idea was brought up, so he agreed to it. Cole had planned on going by Pepe's office the day he got to town, but he changed his mind since it was late by the time he got his rental car and made it to his hotel room.

  He left his hotel the next morning at 10:30. It was an hour and a half early for his noon appointment, but he had heard stories about Los Angeles traffic, and being late wasn't an option. If he had the chance to go by there the day before, he might not have allowed so much time, but he didn't, so there he was, leaving way too early for his appointment.

  It took Cole just over thirty minutes to get there, which put him an hour early for his appointment. Cole thought about going back to his hotel room, but basic math told him he would just spend the hour on the road, which was pointless. He parked in a garage near the office building and headed for the coffee shop he noticed on the corner. He had to walk in front of Pepe's office building on his way, and he glanced inside, feeling a little taken aback by the sheer first-class appearance of it all. It almost seemed futuristic compared to the laid-back, old world vibe of New Orleans and it's surrounding small towns.