Split Ends (12 page)

“I don't believe we were done speaking.”

She must be mistaking me for someone else—perhaps the
only other average girl in town with her own real, if slight,
chest.

“You'll want to remember the face since you're shacking up with my fiancé.”

My eyes wither shut.
Scott!
It's not enough he abandons me on the street; he has to send a stalker! I stumble to find words. “I'm not shacking up with anyone. I'm a Christian.”

“Hey, no kidding, so am I,” Nick says. “I knew you had that spark. It's not normal for me to follow someone down the street. Really out of my character—”

“Excuse me, nearly-naked man,” Amazon says. “I hate to interrupt, but we have business to discuss. I'm Alexa Paul. Have you heard of me?”

“Are you in a show I should know? Because I don't watch very much TV, and in Wyoming we don't get all that many channels, and I didn't even know who Lily Minder was and—”

“I'm Scott's fiancée,” she says flatly. “Maybe he's mentioned me?” She holds out her ring finger so I can see the sparkling dazzler, and my breath catches.

“Tiffany's. Very nice. Scott has good taste.” Sometimes it's just better not to talk. Her icy blue eyes look like they want to shred me. If I tell her I'm not living with her boyfriend, she'll know I'm lying. As I said, I'm a terrible liar. I
am
living with her boyfriend. And say what you will about my cousin, he's currently the only option I have for a roof over my head. I've got to soldier on with this. Besides, if I can keep the alcohol lined up and in alphabetical order, I can mislead a beauty queen.

Of course, now I'm looking at my lovely Gym Boy, whose abs could speak if they wanted to, and he's going to think I'm not much of a Christian but rather the confused hoochie mama, if I admit to living with Amazon's boyfriend. So . . . as I said . . . sometimes better not to talk. I opt for the Fifth. That counts here in LA, right?

“It's a beautiful ring,” Nick says brightly.
Don't hurt me
remains unspoken.

“Isn't it?” she asks him. “The only problem with my engagement is that my fiancé isn't answering my telephone calls, and next thing I hear, he's moving in with someone else. Shouldn't a guy break off an engagement before he moves in with someone else? I mean, am I crazy, or is that supposed to be normal?”

Nick shrugs and she turns back to me. So much for my hero.

“Do you want to explain that?” Alexa asks me. “Since Scott won't?”

Um, could it be the
Psycho
music that starts when you come around? Just a random guess.

I'm not an expert at love by any means, but something tells me when your boyfriend quits taking your calls, things don't look good. If I ever had a boyfriend, and he didn't return my calls, I'd hope I'd get the message. (But may I never have that kind of jerk in my life.) Didn't I witness enough of that in my childhood to make me smarter than your average girl? Now I know from experience that Scott always has a trail of angry women, so this is nothing new. But the engagement ring—that's an entirely different twist.I didn't think my cousin was capable of commitment, but there it is in Tiffany's platinum. Minus the commitment part, I guess.

“Scott Baker?” I ask, just to ensure I've got the right stalker. “Scott Baker asked you to marry him?”

“Yes, Scott Baker, the man whose car I saw you getting out of not ten minutes ago. Before you had a love affair with someone's star on Vine?” She shakes her head slightly. “Scott has interesting taste, I have to say. Look, I know you're staying with him.”

“You're following me?” And here I was afraid of the homeless people, when I had my very own shadow tailing me.

“Not you,
him!
Until he turned around like a bat out of— Are you going to tell me you're not staying with Scott? That you didn't come into town yesterday?”

As I said, no expert at love here, but this girl's got issues. She's making my baggage look like carry-on. “It's not what you think.” I look at Nick at this point. “Scott is—”

“My fiancé told a mutual friend the wedding was off
because the woman he
truly
loved was coming to town and
he wanted to try again. I assume that's you. Or is there a stack of women he truly loves?”

With Scott, no one truly knows.

“I'm just going to go back to work.” Nick points up the street and quickly scrambles to leave. I guess my power shake is history.

“I thought you were done for the day.”

“I just remembered something I had to do.”

He runs. Cary Grant would never have run. I don't think even his alter ego of Archie Leach would be that weak.

“Alexa, do you know where Scott lives?” My voice is calm.

“Of course I do. Didn't you hear me say we were engaged?”

Yes, but we're talking my cousin here. Who knows? “I'm going out on a limb and appealing to your better nature. I could use a ride.”

“You want me to drive you to my fiancé's house so you can stay there? Are you really asking me that?”

“It sounds stupid, doesn't it?” I try to laugh lightheartedly, but my heart is pounding. Scott is going to kill me, but it's his own fault for being a worm. “Maybe Scott will be home and we can talk to him.”
If he doesn't kill me
first. Either death by the warrior princess or my tactless cousin.

One way or another, my Beverly Hills career is looking remarkably short—like my badly cut hair. It's really true that you can't escape your past. Leave it to me to come to California and get accused of my mother's sins. It's like she wrapped them up with a bow and sent them airmail to catch up with me.

But I touched Cary Grant's star so . . . whatever.

chapter 7

I was asked to act when I couldn't act.
I was asked to sing ‘Funny Face' when I couldn't sing,
and dance with Fred Astaire when I couldn't dance—
and do all kinds of thingbeen buzzed up to s I wasn't prepared for.
Then I tried like mad to cope with it.
~Audrey Hepburn

H
old the elevator!“ I squeal, as I have just outrun a ” closing garage gate, but the man within just stares at me and reaches for the buttons. The doors close swiftly. “Jerk!” I shout just as the doors come together. “May you get a haircut just like mine! If you had hair, that is!”

That was below the belt, but it's been that kind of day. I punch the button, but I'm too late, and I have to wait for yet another selfish time-consumer to ride to his floor. So far, this state sucks! Bad stylists, beautiful stalkers, and six-pack-ab men that run at the sight of a catfight! And now waiting at the bottom of a condo garage because someone is too selfish to hold the door. The worst thing about having money is that you have to live by rich people. You'd be better off taking your money and investing than having to live in the “right” neighborhood with jerks like this. The worst part about me is I don't have money and I still have to live around rich jerks.
Hmmph. Give me white trash any
day. White trash would hold the elevator.

I've been buzzed up to Scott's expansive condominium via an intercom system, and I'm pacing the elevator, wondering how I'm going to tell Scott I met Alexa. That she's still wearing his ring. That he's an idiot. Not necessarily in that order.

The self-importance in this town really is unbelievable. I mean, first there's Yoshi, who treats his office like a sanctuary surrounded by his various awards and admirers. It's like I'm one of the Levite priests being allowed to enter the Holy of Holies. Then you've got people storing their cars behind automatic iron doors like they're priceless works of art. And finally, you have to get “let” up by a buzzer or punch in a secret code just to get home. It's all so
Mission Impossible
. I think Hollywood has been subjected to one too many Tohow bad my cut m Cruise movies. Success here apparently means
How many hoops does someone have
to jump through to get to you
? Even Scott's supposed fiancée doesn't have access to him. Now that's textbook trouble with intimacy.

I pace the entire ten square feet of the elevator like a lion huntress, livid at my cousin for making me endure Alexa's pain and at myself for not relieving some of it for her.

The doors open. My cousin is in the kitchen. Clearly he thought nothing of dumping me on the street. I'm about to get downright shrewish when I spot Dane and soften immediately at the sight of him. Even if he is out of my league, I don't need to go proving it outright. I touch his hat on the hook as I enter the room and flinch as I see Scott notice.

“Your fiancée drove me home.” I drop my boots near the entry.

“What the heck happened to your hair?”

Dane looks up from his
BusinessWeek
at this and quickly goes back to it. I'm assuming it's because he has the manners to not notice how bad my cut is.

“Yoshi had someone he considered ‘edgy' cut it.”

“With what? A lawn mower?”

“Look, I'm going to fix it. Let's move on to you. Did you hear what I said?” My cousin just stares at me with a gaping hole in his face.

“About your fiancée, I mean?”

Why does the human heart long for things that aren't good for it? After driving with Alexa, I had an epiphany. We women always want to meet the competition; we always think it's about someone being prettier than us. But it's never about that. If it was, supermodels would have long-term marriages and fat housewives from Sable would be lonely. But it's just the opposite, from what little I've seen here.

Betrayal changes who we are inside. Once the essence of trust dissipates, all else is up for grabs, and when someone you thought you knew shuts down and eliminates you from their life, there's nothing you can do about it. The powerlessness kills me. I know it well. I watched my mother waste her life on it.

“My fiancée?” my cousin finally chokes out.

“She drove me home after we had a nice chat over dinner. She even paid for it.”

Scott's mouth is still agape. And for once, he's not nearly as cool as he pretends to be. “Alexa?” he coughs again, as though he's never heard the name.

“I saw the ring, Scott. It was over-the-top tacky in size, straight from Tiffany's, and had your name written all over it.” As I watch him shrug, I give him more proof. “She showed me your initials inside the band.”

His jaw tightens. “Sarah Claire, just stay out of it.”

“Like I had a choice to stay out of it. I do believe it was you who dumped me on the street, making me easy prey for people following you. If you're going to ditch me on the street, at least have the courtesy to slow down long enough for your stalker to catch up with you, huh?”

“She was following us?”

He's opening Styrofoam containers in the kitchen. The room is decorated in a very commercial and sterile style, the kind where you have to do a Google search for the refrigerator. My cousin's scooping take-out, and it spoils the pristine imatrouble, you'd go running ge to see food take its place among the barren nothingness. He punches buttons on the microwave as though he's not interested in what I have to say about his fiancée. “I see you found your way home. I told you you could do it. You're going to be dashing about the city on your own in no time. What better way to get your feet wet?”

“Than to be dumped on a city street while you slow the car, you mean? Yeah, I can't imagine a better way. It's just so reminiscent of my Sable dates when I wouldn't put out. Thanks for bringing up the warm cozy for me. I'm feeling the love.”

At this, Dane drops his magazine. “You let her out on the street? Dude, what's wrong with you?”

“Listen, it was her idea to come out here. I came on my own. At least she's got the apartment and the job prospect. It's more than I had.”

Dane shakes his head and picks up his magazine again. “You're cold, man.”

“So you're not going to mention Alexa?” I ask.

“I assume you told her you were my cousin.” He slams the spoon down on the stainless-steel countertop.

“Careful, you'll scratch that.”

“I never could count on you, Sarah Claire. You always were a tattletale. The minute you thought you'd get in trouble, you'd go running to tattle.”

Um, because I'd have the marks of a wooden spoon if I
didn't.

“I wanted to, and right now you make me wish I'd spilled the whole sordid truth. Enough of this passive-aggressive garbage. Deal with her like a man, Scott!”

Scott raises his eyebrows and Dane drops his magazine again. “So.” Dane smiles. “You do have claws. I wondered how a cousin of Scott's could be so sweet. It's nice to see a little bite in you.”

“She's as tough as nails, Dane. Don't let the country girl in bad jeans fool you. She stole your hat this morning.”

“Shhh!”

“She probably planned that whole fiasco to get into my wardrobe closet and make me feel guilty.”

“I'm not manipulative, Scott, and I never have been.” I look back toward Dane. “I stole—” I clear my throat. “—borrowed your hat because for some reason I thought it would bring me good luck.”

“Did it?” he asks.

“I have the job, so I guess so.”
But maybe tomorrow I
could steal you and we'd be set!

“Don't feel for Alexa. She's all venom—a snake coiled up in a magnificent skin.”

“She brought me home tonight, and she bought me something to eat. I have to believe there's some kind of decency in her. Something you've missed. I'm going to write an e-mail and watch a movie on the computer.”

Dane stands up. “You can watch a movie out here. I'll leave.”