Impossible Glamour (10 page)

“Babe, is he gone?”

I looked toward the staircase. Webber had one shoe on and was gimping down the steps.

“Just barely. Why are you still here?”

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, there is no way I’m hoofing it over a fence, down a hill, and to the edge of the 405 with one shoe. There are some things a man will not do.” Webber walked into the living room and extracted his shoe from Drummond’s paws. “Buddy, this is handmade Italian leather. Lucky for you not a bite mark on them.” Webber sat on the couch and put on his other shoe.

If not for his crude sense of humor and smart mouth, Webber would actually be an attractive man. He was as good-looking as any of his clients, although not nearly as buff. He maintained a lean, hard-muscled runner’s physique, but that was okay because I preferred a lean man to a— What the hell was I thinking? I didn’t prefer Webber. I preferred that he get the hell out of my house.

“Uber is arriving.” Webber looked at his phone and jumped up. “Okay, babe, have a great spring break. Enjoy whatever it is that brainiacs do when they take time off.”

He stopped at the front of the door. I stood there beside him, and there it was—a zing. Heat thrummed through my body for…for…for Webber? What the hell? He cocked an eyebrow and smiled. That wicked kind of slow smile that normally I’d make some snide remark about how crude he was, or how could he possibly expect a woman to fall for that, but instead…instead…I leaned forward and zing! My lips were on Webber’s and my body was pressing into his and the synapses in my brain were firing, flooding me with a memory of us in my bed and me kissing and pawing and nearly begging and Webber telling me no.

I pulled back. “You wouldn’t sleep with me last night.”

Our lips were millimeters apart. Webber’s eyes widened as though he’d been caught doing something very, very wrong.

“Babe, it wasn’t that I
wouldn’t
… It’s just that sleeping with you when you were blotto didn’t seem right.”

“Seriously, Webber? You sleep with like a dozen women a week. I throw myself at you and you say no?” I must really be hitting the bottom as far as how attractive I was to the opposite sex for this guy to kick me to the curb.

“Ellen, it’s not like that.” His voice was soft and contained none of his familiar snark or playfulness. There was a seriousness to his words, to his face, to his demeanor. He shook his head. “You’re not one of those girls. You’re Ellen Legend. I couldn’t just bang you when you were all boozed up. What fun would that be?”

“OUT!”

“Ellen, what? I’m being honest—”

“I could accept that Big Boy couldn’t perform, I could even accept that I was special, but I’m having a hard time with the idea that you were afraid I wouldn’t remember the joy of being with the Webzie.”

“Babe, my reputation with the ladies is justified.” He opened the door. “See you, Ellen. Webzie out.” And without a look back, without an apology for who he was or what he did or didn’t do, Webber trotted down my front steps and got into the Uber.

I wouldn’t have to see him again for a very long while. Probably not until Sophia’s wedding…if I was lucky. Damn. My car and driver were parked in front of the house. I told him it’d be at least fifteen minutes and walked back upstairs to my room. I grabbed my phone and texted Amanda.

If Daddy asks you stayed here last night.

Sure
, she texted back.
Did I sleep next to you or Webber?

What? Oh no. Now my entire family thought I’d slept with Webber.

Not what happened.

No prob. Have fun this week. See you Wednesday.

How could I forget? I didn’t even know what resort the car was taking me to, but both my sisters did. Wednesday was already scheduled. Amanda and Sophia were meeting me for a mani-pedi, massage, and mud treatment. Superswank, superfun, no men allowed. I couldn’t wait. I acted like I didn’t want all the luxury that Daddy’s life could provide, but sometimes I kind of loved being spoiled. I slid into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I needed to get out of the town house and to the resort so I could forget last night and start to enjoy my week.

Webber

The digs for the CTA retreat were swank. My cell phone pressed to my ear and I waited for Dick Munch to hop back onto the line. The sun hung low in the sky, and I walked across my room toward the balcony, which overlooked the pool and the golf course. Beyond the manicured greens, a cliff dropped down to the ocean. CTA might have had a
rough
year as Jeff said, but this retreat was setting the agency back at least a cool mill. I’d golfed with Rick this morning and managed to convince him that keeping me was cheaper than me leaving. With the stern promise that I’d refrain from calling him Rick the Dick ever again, I’d gotten a promise of a yes vote from Mr. Ricky the Dicky to become a CTA partner.

“Yo, man, sorry,” Roger said. “It was Travata about her meeting today at Worldwide.”

“Dick Munch, it better have been a client to keep me holding. Anything else you need to tell me before I hit the bar?” All the CTA assistants were back at the agency pretending to work and actually jacking off. Ahh, the pre-promotion days of hanging out in my boss’s chair and sipping bourbon at noon with my fellow assistants while the agents went away on retreat.

“I got your meeting with Selena on the books.”

“Please tell me it’s a lunch.” I pulled at the drapes and glanced down at the bevy of babes lining the pool. Unfortunately for them, they were mainly CTA agents, which meant off-limits to me. I did not fuck where I ate. No siree, Bob. No way.

“She wants late-night drinks.”

“Dude! You’re killing me. Selena will be primed and ready to pounce.” I fell back onto the king-sized bed. “She already knows what I’m after. Unless I can deliver the book deal to Greg, I’m still a vote short, no matter what I call Mr. Dicky.”

“I’ll phone you at eleven with an emergency.”

“Like she won’t see through that ruse. She didn’t become head of her division by being a dummy. Damn.” I bounced up from the bed and walked toward the minibar to grab a bottle of Jack. Might as well make the agency pay for this little visit to paradise. “What else? Did you hear from Marisol about Mom?”

“It’s all good at Casa de Mom. She went to her physical therapy and her group walk and has returned home with Marisol.”

“Any news from the doc?”

“Nope.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and then lifted the glass. “No news is good news there, I guess. You sent the flowers this week?”

“Yep. With a note saying you’ll be by her place next Saturday.”

Not that Mom would remember the flowers by then, or most likely even me, but she did appreciate the smell of a good-looking bouquet. “Okay, stay out of my stash, at least the good booze. If you’re going to hit my bottles, drink the cheap stuff.”

“Webber, all you’ve got is the cheap stuff.”

“Says the assistant with a trust fund.”

“So, Webber”—his voice was somber, more serious—“I’ve got another piece of news.”

My stomach flip-flopped. “What? Selena wants me to bring her a strap-on when we have drinks?”

Silence.

Ruh ro. Roger didn’t laugh at my joke. Whatever piece o’ gossip he needed to spill was mucho baddo for sure-o. I stood in a wide-legged stance in the middle of my hotel room, ready to take the shot. “Hit me, brother.”

I heard a deep breath over the phone line. “Steve had a sit-down with Thaddeus Taylor at ACA.”

My heart lurched in my chest. The first flip-flop had nothing on the double-back gainer taking place in my gut now.

“A sit-down! At ACA? What the fuck! Who told you this?” My biggest client was doing dance steps with the head of our biggest rival agency while I was singing “Kumbaya” at a retreat in Santa Barbara? No bueno. So very no bueno.

“Jeff’s assistant let me know.”

“So Jeff knows too?”

“She promised me she wouldn’t say anything. You know she’s the one I’m seeing.”

“Promises are bullshit. You really think your cock is that good? That’s primo dirt right there. Primo. No way she doesn’t tell El Jeffe. Fuck. I’m dead man drinking if it gets out Legend is leaving.”

“He’s not leaving. He took one meeting.”

“Dude, Roger, come on. I’ve been in this game a while and a client doesn’t have a sit-down with another agent unless he’s considering his options. Get me Steve-o on the line.” I paced the room. This was bad. My partnership was sailing out to sea on the high tide. Steve Legend ditching me would leave me wounded in the water even if I still retained Dillon, and Rhett, and Ryan. If Steve left, how long before all my other heavy hitters followed? I mean, no one wanted to hang out with a loser who couldn’t keep his clients.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I mumbled, bouncing on my toes and then walking and then bouncing on my toes. How long did it take for one assistant to track down one client?

Roger clicked back on the line. “No luck. Left word at all his numbers.”

Deep breath. Deep, deep, deep breath. “Okay. No one. NO ONE knows about this. Got it? Call me the minute Steve returns my call. Webber out.” I clicked off my phone and took a long drink of the bourbon straight out of the bottle. Heat slid down my throat. I closed my eyes and turned to the mirror and opened them.

“No way does Steve Legend leave me. No fucking way!” I pointed at the wild-eyed guy staring back from the mirror. Shit. Shit. Shit. Now I really needed a swim. I could wear out the carpet in my room and hit the bottles hard, but then who the fuck knew what I’d say when Steve finally returned my call? The trust-forming, circle jerk, we-are-a-team meetings were done for the day. I was on my own for dinner and the rest of the night. I needed out of my room. I needed to be the Webz. But first I needed a swim.

Ellen

“You slept with Webber Connor!” Sophia’s voice screeched over the phone, and I slid down farther into my lounge chair. I pulled my sun hat over my face and glanced around me. Even though Sophia’s voice could cut glass, no one had heard her.

“I did not
sleep
with him.” I flipped a page in my
Journal of the American Medical Association
. “Well, technically. I mean, we fell asleep in the same bed. More like passed out. But
nothing
happened.” Just a little lie. There was no way I was copping to kissing Webber or, even worse, begging him to do me and him saying no. There was only so much humiliation one woman could take. A tough couple of weeks. Work dream dead and rejected by the Webzie. I heard a laugh over the phone. “Wait? Are you alone?”

I could just imagine the haughty look on Sophia’s face, her lips puckered and both eyebrows raised, the look she got when she knew she’d done something she shouldn’t and was preparing to blame her bad behavior on me. “Trick is here.”

“Oh my God, Sophia! Trick is there and you just said that about”—I lowered my voice and slipped even farther down in my lounger—“Webber and me?”

“What? He already knew. How do you think I found out?”

“What do you mean he
already
knew? How did he already know? Who the hell told him?”

“Now you’re yelling,” Sophia said in her supercool, self-righteous voice. “Ryan told him.”

“My brother-in-law?”

“Not really. I mean, come on, she’s only your half sister.”

“Wait…Amanda told Ryan and Ryan told—”

“Trick. Or at least I think that’s what happened. Don’t worry, it’s not like you and the lovers you take are big news. You’d have to be Rhett or me to get any play in the press. Webber is only an agent and you’re a nobody.”

A nobody? That was me. Summa cum laude and number one in my med school class, but according to my superfamous family, I was a nobody. Yep, my family was all entertainment, all the time.

“Well, this nobody is getting off the phone.” I reined in my hurt feelings. I didn’t gossip about Sophia or Amanda. I didn’t rehash their mistakes or love lives, and I definitely didn’t like the idea of them talking about me.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday. Is
she
coming?”

“If by
she
you mean Amanda, yes, she’s invited.” I pressed my arm around my waist and across my one-piece swimsuit. I guess my assessment that my sisters were starting to get along was an error. Seems I made mistakes about a lot of things. “But I’m not sure I want to see either one of you now.”

“Why? You’re embarrassed? Don’t be, okay? It could have been worse. Believe me, there is worse. Way worse. Where are you?”

“At the pool.”

“Please tell me you at least have on a bikini?”

I glanced down at my black one-piece and pressed my lips together. We might have the same body type, but I definitely wasn’t as comfortable showing off as much skin as my twin.

“I like my swimsuit.” I refused to be cowed. Sophia spent too much of her time making me feel bad about how I dressed, my hairstyle, and my lifestyle choices. I didn’t make comments about her half-naked shots on the cover of
Esquire
or
Men’s Weekly,
so why did she get to make comments about the clothing choices I made? “I’m not you, Sophia. I’m comfortable in this swimsuit, and this vacation is supposed to be all about comfort.”

Silence. Long pause.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Wait? What? I scrunched my eyebrows together. She’d just told me I was right
and
apologized? This wasn’t my sister. What had happened to the snark, the condescending tone, the judgment, the castigation, and the suggestions about proper poolside attire that were supposed to come out of her supermodel mouth?

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Sophia continued. Her tone softer and sweeter. She sounded so weird, not even like Sophia. “Are you?”

“Yeah, but aren’t you going to give me crap about everything I always do wrong according to the rules as provided by Sophia?”

“Absolutely not,” Sophia said. “You are beautiful and smart and amazing just the way you are.”