Sweet Little Lies (13 page)

“Wow, I think you’ve seen the last of that towel. What will it take for him to let it go?” Carey wondered aloud.

“I have no idea. But I wish he would. On to the important stuff: It’s action movie nostalgia night, ladies. Which one is it gonna be?”

“
Die Hard
—and we’re gonna get the rest of the Steven story before this night is through!”

I smiled at Jackie, but there was a greater chance of Jesus ice-skating in hell than me sharing all the scoop.

M
y bad. My bad. My bad. I completely underestimated the potential for dramatic foolery that could pop off at the Chi-Wind banquet. I stood sipping a scotch in the presence of two of Christina’s former flames. It was an uncomfortable place to be. In hindsight, neither Christina nor I gave people enough credit for their ability to show their natural asses in public. Not literal asses, attitudinal asses.

The night began wrapped in deceptive perfection. I was holding down my cocoa-sexy vibe in a midnight blue tuxedo jacket, crisp white shirt, and black tuxedo pants. Not everybody could pull it off…I managed.

My business partner insisted on ordering a limousine for me. Knowing that I still didn’t have a good handle on how the finances were operating, I declined. He insisted it had already been paid for and the money would be wasted if I didn’t take it.

Well, I wouldn’t want to be wasteful—I was a huge believer in conservation. Grabbing my coat and a wishful-thinking duffel bag, I climbed into the back of the sleek black Lincoln. After chatting briefly, I gave the driver Christina’s address. The
ride from my loft in the SoMa district of San Francisco to Christina’s house was blessedly drama-free. The traffic on the Bay Bridge was relatively light for a weekend evening. I could get used to someone else navigating the crazy traffic.

The moment Christina swung open her front door, I should have known what sort of evening we were in for.You just don’t have a woman who looks like that on your arm without inviting some drama. Christina was in a strapless, skintight long tube dress in a fabric I’d guess was silk. If I was forced to name the color, I’d call it copper.That chocolate skin and ebony curling hair against that copper dress was stunning. There was a slit up the side of the dress that showed more than a hint of thigh. Her feet were in sky-high green shoes with criss-crossing straps. She looked classy and beautiful. I was conflicted. A part of me wanted to show her off and another part of me wanted to scoop her up and stay in for the night and the next day and the next night after that …until I’d had my fill. I was suddenly hungry, and not for the seafood bar awaiting us at the banquet.

“Look at you, Ms. Brinsley. You brought out the secret weapons in the arsenal tonight.”

Inclining her head, she gestured me inside.“Good evening, Dr. Williams. You are looking rather tasty yourself this evening.”

I stepped inside the door and watched while she put on a matching ruffly jacket that wrapped around her, showing off the gym body.“You don’t have to cover up on my account.”

She reached for a long wool coat in a pumpkin color and a little green purse that looked like an envelope.“I’m not about to freeze so you can get an eyeful, S. Dub.” She added her house key and cell phone to the purse.“Ready?”

I was more than ready. Sliding over to her, I moved a long, curly lock of hair to rest on the front of her shoulder. “You know, we could skip this thing. Order in some Italian food, eat in bed …”

The look she gave me was classic disgusted Christina.“Oh,
now you offer up a little bump-n-grind? It took me hours to get ready and you know I have work to do tonight.”

“First of all, I was going to make sure you put in the work. Secondly, it wasn’t going to be a ‘little bump-n-grind.’ I was bringing my A-game smash to the table.”

“Your A-game smash? Is that a GenY euphemism for sex?”

I took her coat off her arm and held it open so she could step in.“You know what I meant. You always do.And reminding yourself of our age difference isn’t going to keep you from thinking about me, even when you don’t want to.”

She looked up at me over her shoulder and I could see the minute she considered my offer to ditch the party and stay home. I could also see the moment she discarded the idea. “You’re still a cocky thing.”

“You doubt I can back it up?” If nothing else, we had the verbal sparring down to an art.

“I don’t doubt you can do anything you put your mind to. Are you ready to go?”

I nodded.“If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

“Then let’s go.” She turned back toward the door.

“Oh, and Ti-Ti?”

“Yes?”

“If I don’t get a chance to say it later, you look incredible this evening.” Her face softened into a smile. I loved the moments when she let her guard down and just allowed herself to feel.

“Thanks, Steven.”

Little did we know that the smooth forty-five minute ride down to The Grande Palo Alto Resort and Spa was the last peaceful moment either of us would have for hours.

We had just stepped into the lobby and stowed our coats when a tall, gorgeous woman in a slim-cut halter dress launched herself at me. Catching her, I gave her a hug and winked at Christina over her shoulder. Setting her down, I made intro-ductions.“Christina, meet Stefani.”

My twin sister’s face, which only moments ago was wreathed in smiles, shifted into almost haughty lines. Her voice was nothing less than icy when she spoke. “So you’re Christina.” Oh great, she was in protective-sister mode. I forgot she had never really forgiven Christina for the New York walkaway. I may have over-shared some of my anger about that.

And of course Christina picked up on that ice and matched it with considerable frost of her own.“So you’re Ste-fani.”

“The one and only.”

“A pleasure.”

Any second now and I was going to toss some Meow Mix and break for the door. My two favorite ladies did not get along. That could be a problem. And just as I thought it, another problem entered my peripheral vision. Stefani saw it too, and her fake smile turned even more brittle.

“Christina, looks like your boyfriend’s here.”

Christina looked up at me in confusion. I shook my head and pointed in the other direction.“Sorry, sweetheart, she’s not referring to me.” I pointed.

Christina turned to see Dante Esteban stepping out of an elevator at the far end of the lobby, complete with fawning entourage and much fanfare.

With a deep sigh, she linked her arm through mine.“Is it too late to take you up on that Italian-food-in-bed offer?”

Two congressmen, a senator, and a governor’s aide stepped out of the banquet room. Lance spotted me and called my name.“Steven, a few people I want you to meet.”

I squeezed Christina’s hand. “Did you ever see the movie
All About Eve,
where Bette Davis has that great line?”

She flung her head back in delighted laughter.“Yes.'Fasten your seat belts, it’s gonna be a bumpy night.’”

“Definitely too late for the bedside Italian.” With a final squeeze of our joined hands, we turned toward the drama.

“S
enator, may I have a word?” For the record, it was no easy task to pull off professional journalism when you are shrink-wrapped in metallic silk and balancing a flute of champagne in one hand. But for all the hell I was in that evening, I was determined to get something productive out of it.

Not only did one half of the Williams twins hate my guts, I had an ex FwB, two brothers, a girlfriend on the verge of a breakdown, my professional rival, and the senior vice president of Valiant all in one spot. The words “hot seat” took on a whole new meeting.

After Stefani went all bitch-back-off-my-brother mode, Steven and I worked the room. It was exhausting keeping half a room-length between me and Dante and me and Stefani at all times. But that was our clear, unspoken but agreed-upon goal.

Steven impressed me at every turn. During dinner, he gave a brief but powerful speech about the future of transportation and the opportunity to be a part of history that could positively
impact lives for generations. It was brilliant. He had the entire room in his thrall.

Our table of twelve held me and Steven; Carey and Clarke; Steven’s partner, Lance, with his date; an engineer from China with his plus one; a shipping magnate with a woman who was so obviously not his wife; a former child star who now spent his time backing worthy causes; and a California state representative.

One table over sat my senior vice president, Julie, with her husband; Stefani and her husband, Marcus, (who was far more pleasant than his wife); Collin and Celia; the mayor of San Jose and his wife; two football players and their wives. This was the event to see and be seen in the Bay Area this evening.

Steven handled politicians, millionaires, and my brothers with equal parts grace, charm, and intelligence. We were in the midst of chatting with Julie and the secretary of transportation when I noticed Lynne walk in alone. Nor did she appear to be entirely sober. I gestured to Carey to go check that out.

After the secretary was called away, Julie clasped my hand and squeezed it.“Our presence at this function is a huge win, Christina. Being the only station allowed to film inside the event puts us head and shoulders above the competition.”

“Yeah, who’d you have to sleep with to pull that off?” The snarky, slightly nasal voice came from Lisa. Though I had no idea she would be there (I knew I didn’t authorize her travel), I wasn’t totally surprised to see her. With the number of entertainers and sports celebrities in attendance, it made sense for her to cover the event. Though I had the distinct feeling she was just there to stir up some drama while trying to steal my shine.

Before I could fashion a retort, Steven stepped closer and slung an arm around my shoulder. “I believe I’ll be the lucky recipient of those favors whenever Christina is ready to share. Good to see you again, Lisa.”

I had completely forgotten that Lisa met Steven way back during our New York Fling Week. From her face, I could tell she had, too.“This is
that
Steven?”

Turning to face him, I looked up and smiled. His eyes were green tonight, and the dark blue of his suit made his skin look absolutely lickable. He grinned down at me with an I-know-what-you’re-thinking-and-you-better-stop glint in his eye. A cameraman chose that moment to click and capture. “This is that Steven. All grown-up.”

“So I see.” Lisa looked from him to me and back again. It was clear she had a million questions. “Are you interviewing him for your story?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t this a little pay-for-play, even for you?” Lisa’s tone went from silky to downright snarky.

You know, you would think I’d been walking the stroll turning tricks for Pretty Tony in my spare time, the way people kept alluding to my so-called trampishess. Steven made to answer and I shot him a just-let-it-go look.

Julie jumped into the breach. “Lisa, have you interviewed Terry Rex yet? He just walked in with his supermodel girlfriend.” Julie referred to the latest action movie superstar.

Lisa spun away and headed off, knowing better than to take it any further.

“Christina, it’s gotten worse between you and Lisa.”

“Admittedly.” I couldn’t deny it.

“That’s unacceptable,” Julie snapped.

“Completely.”

“Either fix it or make it go away.” Julie swirled away and headed back to her table.

Deep cleansing breath, deep sigh. I turned back to Steven. “I’m going to go corner the senator, grab an interview, and make it look like I deserve my job title. Is Congressman Walker here yet?”

Steven nodded.“At three o’clock, clutching a martini and smiling a little too brightly. How about I approach him while you handle the senator?”

“Deal,” I agreed.

“Christina”—Steven paused and gave me his best Professor Williams lecturing look—“please try to stay out of conflict for five minutes, can you?”

“It’s not my fault,” I hissed under my breath.

“That’s the troublemaker’s anthem.” He handed me a fresh glass of champagne.“Sip slowly.”

That’s how I found myself huddled up with the senator, chatting “strictly off the record” about how government dollars are allocated, spent, and tracked, while sipping champagne. It was one of those conversations that would be quoted later, citing “high-ranking Washington officials.”

It was from this vantage point that I watched with morbid fascination as my ex-fiancé Perry strolled into the room. Perry was the fiancé who had been confused about his sexuality. He certainly was not anymore. He was flamboyant with it now, in a way that made me wonder how I’d missed the signs before. He walked over to Lynne and they headed toward the dance floor. I quickly envisioned a few hundred ways this could go badly.

I wrapped up my conversation. “Senator, can I get you to promise an on-camera interview with me soon?”

“Next time you’re in DC, sweetheart. Call my office and set it up. It’s not all graft and skimming—some of us are trying to do the right thing by the American people.” He sent a flinty side-eye over to Congressman Walker, who was still huddled up with Steven.

I filed that away for future reference. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time.”

He patted me on the shoulder.“Ms. Brinsley, you tell that man of yours to keep up the good work.”

That man of mine? How I hated the labels. But I smiled
extra pretty; he was a United States senator, after all.“I will do it, sir.You enjoy the rest of your evening.”

I was headed back toward the table when Collin pulled me to the side.“You can stand down your investigation for me.”

It took me a second to remember that he was talking about Celia and her supposed infidelity. I had been so busy, I hadn’t done much more than pull up some basic information on Dax.“Oh really?”

“Yes, we are back on schedule. In fact, we are making up for lost time. It’s as if someone relit the pilot light.”

Trying to block the mental images his words conjured, I thought about his words instead. Hmm, that could be good or bad. As long as Collin was putting out the flame, did it matter who ignited the spark? I didn’t think Celia was cheating. I thought she was flirting with the young cutie and funneling that energy into her time with Collin. Was that emotional cheating? I had no idea.

Collin sensed my hesitation.“You have doubts.”

“I have a theory, but I don’t want to make waves over a theory.”

Collin frowned. “A bad, get-a-lawyer theory or a good, don’t-even-think about-it theory?”

“Closer to the good than the bad.”

“Can you check it out for me?”

“Of course, not a problem.”

“By the way, we like Steven.”

“Who exactly is we?” I raised a brow.

“Me, Celia, Clarke, Carey.”

I rolled my eyes and said drily, “So glad to have your approval.”

“Don’t be snide; it doesn’t suit the Brinsley name. What do you think of that, by the way?”

“The Brinsley name?”

“No, Ti-Ti—Clarke and Carey.”

“Between you and me, I think it’s a fit. But I’m wondering
if you two only pair up with women whose names start with
C
so you don’t have to alter your monograms or stationery.”

“Come on, now. Even we’re not that shallow and bougie.”

“I hear ya talking, but evidence points to the contrary,” I teased.

Something over my shoulder caught his attention. “Oh, you know what—you might want to break that up.”

I turned to see what he was referring to. Next to the martini bar stood Perry, Dante, and Steven deep in conversation. Not far from them stood Lynne, Lisa, and Stefani blatantly eavesdropping. Nothing good could come of this. I downed the champagne in my hand.“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Heaven help me, I had spent all evening averting disaster. I crossed the room as fast as my heels and tight dress would get me there. Halfway across the floor, Carey fell into step with me.“Riddle me this, girlfriend. Is there
anyone
here you don’t have some drama going on with?”

“Don’t bring it here, Carey. I’m so not in the mood. I mean, I’m good people, aren’t I?” I paused and lowered my voice to speak my peace.

“The best.”

“And I’ve been gracious in the face of ridiculous odds to the contrary, have I not?”

“For the most part, you have, indeed.”

“Carey, I’ve been kicked in the ass by love three times and I’m still out here trying. Don’t I get some credit for that?”

“Sort of,” she hedged.

“Sort of?”

“Well, before Young Steven showed back up, you weren’t so much trying again at love as rotating temporary bed buddies.”

“Temporary bed buddies is a harsh turn of phrase but okay, I’ll own that.”

“Some of those bed buddies wanted more. You know that, right?”

“Like who?”

“Dante, for one. Brandon, two. Steven, for three.”

“You knew about me and Brandon? It was just a week-end.”That was not one of my prouder moments. Brandon had come out to the West Coast office to help out about eighteen months ago and I gave in to a the-hell-with-it, it’s-only-the-weekend moment.

“Everybody knew about you and Brandon. Why do you think Rita refused to move out here?”We had offered Rita a promotion with relocation and she had turned us down.

“I just thought she was a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker who didn’t want to come out West.”

“She is a woman who has loved Brandon forever, and you used him, turned him inside out, and didn’t look back. She kinda hates your guts.”

“Stefani hates my guts, too.”

“You used her brother, turned him inside out, and didn’t look back. Do you see a pattern?”

“I just didn’t want to get hurt again. And I was completely up front with people all the way around.”

“I know, sweetie, but you hurt a few people along the way. You got cold and superambitious and didn’t raise your head up enough to see the damage you were causing as you sped by. You kinda went all succubus for a while. And this cluster right here”—she gestured toward the group by the bar—“this is a case of your man-eating chickens coming home to roost.”

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “How do I fix it?”

She snatched the glass out of my hand.“Not by getting so blitzed you can blame your behavior on the tipsiness.You’re damn near forty, girl. Woman up and be accountable.” She put a hand on my shoulder and shoved me forward. “I love you though.”

“If this is the love, I’d hate to get on your bad side.” But I kept moving forward.