“I’ll take six of those rattan love seats, a dozen armchairs, three coffee tables, four end tables, that Tiki statue and we’ll need three bars.” We walked at a crisp pace as I rambled off the list, pointing at each item along the way. Priya, the efficient assistant helping me, marked each piece on her clipboard. It was T-minus eight hours for Poppy’s last-minute party, and she’d left me in charge of the rental furniture, props, and décor. Fortunately, the exec throwing the party wasn’t very imaginative and had requested a Hawaiian-themed party. Throw around some Tiki torches and palm leaves, and we were good to go. Poor Poppy left an hour ago, after receiving a panicked call from her own assistant. The lead singer of the band the hostess booked was ill from some bad oysters, and he wasn’t likely to be straying far from the bathroom tonight.
My phone buzzed with a text from Poppy: Arranged the tents with lighting. They’re lackluster white. Can you do something about them? All the freakin’ bands are booked! Am flipping out! I think I still have my violin from high school. You play an instrument?
“Priya, do you have any overhead fans with big leafish paddles?”
Her shiny diamond piercing flashed as she scrunched her nose in thought. “No, I don’t think so. We’ve got some large brown fans over here.” I followed her to a different part of the warehouse that contained lighting fixtures.
“Okay. These could work. I’ll get some palm leaves to attach to the paddles. We’ll take four.”
I texted back: I played a mean recorder in fourth grade. Don’t worry about tents. I’ve got it covered. Have you looked into Caribbean steel bands, since we’re going island? Find a pianist or guitarist who can play in the house. Check with the college music programs.
I tucked the phone into my back pocket when Ian’s ringtone chimed. “Hello.”
“Morning, beautiful.”
My cheeks warmed. I turned away from Priya and tucked a stray lock behind my ear. “Hello, Ian. How are you?”
“Lonely. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
Ian left my house Wednesday morning following our breakfast. By the time I showered and got to his house, he’d left to spend the day with Kate. Around seven, he phoned to invite me to join the two of them for dinner and a movie. I declined. Since Kate was leaving the next morning, I figured the two of them should spend her last hours together without a third wheel. It might also have had to do with the fact I was still disturbed by Kate’s powder room pow wow and the fact I’d denied an intimate relationship with her brother, which was no longer the case. Ian had to work late both Thursday and Friday. We spoke on the phone, and he sent me funny, flirty texts. Friday evening I arrived home to a bouquet of summer, sky-blue orchids waiting on my front stoop and a reminder to set my alarm.
“Me, too.” I sighed.
“Britany says I’ve been invited to a party tonight. Would you like to join me?”
“I’m sorry. Poppy’s got a last-minute gig she needs me to work tonight.” Considering all the help Poppy had given me to make contacts when I first started my design company, pitching in when she was in a crunch was the least I could do.
“What about lunch?”
I grimaced. “I’m at the furniture rental warehouse right now, and I’ve got three more stops before heading to the party venue to set up.”
“Bollocks. What time will you be done? We can meet afterward.”
“I have no idea. I stay until Poppy doesn’t need me anymore. Sometimes that’s eleven, sometimes it’s two.”
“Text me when you’re done, then come to my house. No matter what time.”
“Really?”
“Tom says I should make an appearance at this party. I’ll leave when you do.”
I shrugged. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“It’ll be boring as hell without you. I wish you could come and step out in that sexy, black dress.”
“I have a red dress you might like … ” My lips split into a sly smile.
He groaned. “Saucy minx, get back to work.”
“See you later.”
“Not soon enough.”
I turned. Priya stood no more than six feet away, trying to look busy with her clipboard. Her shiny dark hair fell across her face, but she was so close there was no way she couldn’t have overheard the conversation.
“Sorry about that.”
“Your boyfriend?” Her ebony eyes shined.
“No! I mean, yes. I mean … I don’t know. I think it’s too early to put on the boyfriend title.”
She gave a knowing nod. “Is he cute?”
I laughed. “I don’t think Ian runs in the cute range. More like smokin’ hot.”
“Those can be the hardest to tie down.”
She had no idea. “Where were we?”
Half an hour later, I motored over to Fabric Planet, my favorite warehouse for finding eclectic materials in downtown Los Angeles. My phone rang an unknown number.
“Hello, Hartland Designs.”
“Sophie?”
“Holly?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Is everything all right? Whose phone are you using?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I have a new cell. Use this number when you need to call or text me from now on. Okay?”
“Sure. Is everything else okay? I’ve been meaning to call you. After Thanksgiving I’ll have a little time to breathe. Why don’t I fly out for a few days?”
Silence.
“Holly?”
“Um, maybe. Let me check with Omar.” Her voice wasn’t the rich, full-of-fun Holly I knew. It sounded reedy and thin.
I pulled into the parking lot. “Holly, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Insomnia. I didn’t get much sleep last night. That’s all.”
“Oh, hon, insomnia sucks.” I’d suffered from countless sleepless nights stewing about Michael’s extra-marital activities. The day after we split, the relief was undeniable. I slept like a baby. “Is there something preying on your mind?”
“I … was just … thinking about going back to work, but I don’t want to put Eva into daycare.”
“Well, that can definitely be a stressful decision for you. Maybe you can go back part-time. I’m sure it’d be good for both you and Eva to have some time apart.”
“I suppose,” my sister said faintly. “What’s happening with you? Are you going to Mom’s for Thanksgiving?”
“She’s coming here. Originally, she wanted me to come out and meet Harvey, her new beau, but apparently Harvey’s heading to Ohio to visit his grandkids.”
Holly giggled. The first sign of humor I’d heard out of her in months. “Mom has a beau. I can’t believe it. But if she’s busy with Harvey, she won’t be bugging us so much. Right?”
“I suppose. Don’t forget to give Mom this new number.”
“I gave it to her last night. I called while she was getting ready for her date. She was as giddy as a teenager going to her first Homecoming dance.”
My other line clicked, and Poppy’s number flashed at me. “I’ve got to run. I’m working a gig for Poppy today and everything is at sixes and sevens.”
“Sure. Call me on this phone. Only this phone. Okay?” she stressed.
Uneasiness prickled my scalp. “Holly … I’m here for you. If you need me to come to you, I can. Anytime.”
“I know. I love you.” She disconnected.
Poppy’s call went to voice mail, while I sat in the half-empty parking lot and stared at Holly’s new phone number. Why was my sister so adamant I only use this number? My woman’s intuition was on high alert, pinging like active sonar. I needed to do something, only I didn’t know what. Was Holly really doing drugs? Ian’s renovation should be finished by midweek. I needed to get out there to find out what was happening. My voice mail icon blinked, but I ignored it. Instead, I got online and thanks to modern technology, twenty minutes later I was booked on a Southwest flight the Monday after Thanksgiving. Come hell or high water, I was heading to Sin City to get to the bottom of this, whether Holly liked it or not.
• • •
T-minus one hour until party time, and Poppy’s capable assistant, Cody, buzzed around talking into her headset, putting out fires, and coordinating last minute details in her skinny jeans and silver ballet flats. Poppy was at an over-the-top children’s birthday party for some agent’s kid, and she planned to arrive at the Hawaiian extravaganza around nine. Until that time, Cody was in charge.
As I decorated the tents, ominous clouds rolled in from the coast and the evening became progressively humid. The tents would be filled with guests taking shelter from the storm before the night was out. Fifteen minutes later, Cody’s blue butterfly top flagged me down as I walked into the bustling hive of catering staff in the kitchen.
“Did you get your uniform yet?”
“No. I brought a flowered shirt, black shorts, and flip-flops. I thought that was the attire for the wait staff. Are we supposed to wear something different?” I glanced at the chefs preparing the food for tonight. They wore flowered shirts, black pants and black waiter shoes.
Cody’s russet eyes darted past mine. “Didn’t Poppy tell you?”
My arms crossed, and a bad feeling crept over me. “Tell me what?”
She chewed her lip.
“Tell me what, Cody?”
Two girls in their early twenties entered the kitchen. They wore small triangle bikini tops, carnation flower leis around their necks, a carnation tucked behind one ear and green grass skirts hanging at their hips. Each one picked up a tray of food and headed back out to the dining room to set the buffet.
I goggled at them. “You’re joking, right?”
Cody shook her head.
“Do you have to wear one?”
Cody shook her head again. “Just the wait staff. The bartenders are wearing board shorts and leis.”
“Poppy must be out of her mind if she thinks I’ll wear a bikini and grass skirt. There’s no way I’ll fit into those little triangles!” I pointed an accusing finger at the retreating girls.
“Um … ”
“Cody … ” I growled.
She blanched. “She bought a special bikini in your size.”
“I’ll kill her. What the hell is she thinking?”
“Sorry,” Cody squeaked.
I gnashed my teeth. It wasn’t her fault. “Where?”
“The van is around the side of the garage. Deirdre should be out there. Just tell her your name.”
I rearranged “the girls” one more time and looked in the mirror again, hoping for a different outcome. However, no amount of adjustment could change the result. Poppy had at least purchased a sturdy bikini top for a C cup. The twit also purchased a push-up style that generated an obscene amount of cleavage and created a boob shelf. My lei did nothing to hide the situation. Instead, it perched like a display on the boob shelf.
I sent another text to Poppy, the third since discovering her treachery” You are dead meat. Do you hear me? This thing makes my chest look like a pair of overripe cantaloupes.
Poppy replied. LOL.
This isn’t funny! You’re not a nice friend.
I’m sure you look fabulous. Quit whining and get out there. We need you.
I brushed my hair out until it hung in waves down my back, tucked a yellow carnation behind my ear, and flip-flopped out of the bathroom ready to do battle.
Half an hour into the party, and two lewd propositions later, I returned from my car, wearing my flowered shirt tied at the waist with the buttons open partway down. The boobs still stood at attention, but the baggy shirt did a reasonable job downplaying the state of affairs.
Cody bustled up to me, her mouth open. I shot her a “don’t mess with me look.” She turned on her heel and marched away. Smart girl.
“Excuse me. Those look interesting. What are they?” A voice above the din of conversation and soft piano music halted me.
I turned and held the tray of hors d'oeuvres out to a roguish, six-foot blond. “Bacon wrapped scallops.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” His golden brown eyes scrutinized the delicacies, then he flashed a schoolboy smile and scooped a skewer off the platter. He had a fresh-faced, wholesome appeal that would have interested me had Ian not been in my life.
I started to move off.
“Wait.” His hand curled around my arm. “I’m not done yet. These are delicious. Did you make them?” The stranger took another skewer and popped the delicacy in his mouth.
“No. There’s a catering staff.”
“This is a real nice party. I’m surprised old Rueben shelled out for it.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Fellow’s pretty tight with a buck, if you know what I mean.” He winked.
I whispered back, “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never met Rueben, only his wife.”
“That would explain things. Sheila can get him to pony up for a good show.” Another scallop went down the hatch.
“So, how do you know Sheila and Rueben?”
“I’m a casting director. Entertainment lawyers come with the job. Rueben and I go back a few years. Are you an actress?”
I looked cross-eyed at him. “No. Why would you ask that?”
“Lots of waitresses are.” He shrugged and brandished a skewer in my face. “You’ve got a real exotic look about you.” He zeroed in on the cleavage. “I might have something for you.”
I made a mental eye roll and jolted to attention as a warm hand snaked up underneath my shirt and lips brushed my temple. My elbow jerked back and met hard abs. An “oof” whispered across my ear.
“Hitting on my girl, Rich?” a heart-stopping voice rumbled.
My head whipped around. “Ian! What are you doing here?”
“I told you I had a party to attend. What are you doing here?”
“This is Poppy’s party.”
“So my party and your party are one and the same.”
“Yeah, and Poppy’s going to owe me big time after making me wear this getup.”
Ian leaned in to get a closer look at the goods. “I kind of like it. Maybe even better than the black dress.” He gave a naughty grin and snatched the last scallop off my tray.
“O’Connor, introduce me.”
Ian eyed the blond and drew me in closer, staking his claim. “Rich Kline, meet Sophia Hartland. My interior designer.”
“So this is the pretty decorator you’ve been keeping all to yourself. I can see why.” Rich’s eyes narrowed, appraising the hand at my back.
Tension radiated off Ian and his hackles rose like a wary dog.
“How do you two know each other?” I tried to play mediator.
“We roomed together in New York right after university,” Ian said.
“It took me three years to convince this nodcock to come out here. I got him cast in his first commercial.”
Ian grunted. His animosity surprised me. Normally he had such an easygoing personality. I never expected this type of territorial behavior. Obviously, there was more between these two than met the eye.
“There you are.” Poppy stepped to my other side, creating a quartet out of our trio. She flashed her teeth. She wore a simple black sheath dress and black pumps. I ground my teeth, still stung by her perfidy. I was the only woman older than twenty-two toddling around the party in a ridiculous grass skirt and bikini.
She leaned around me. “Hello, Ian. It’s nice to see you again. Doesn’t Soph look great tonight?”
He acknowledged her with a nod.
Her eyes bounced with impish delight between the two of us. Though I’d explained the innocent mix-up with Kate, I had yet to tell her about my night of passion with Ian. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t told anyone. I’d hoarded our coupling like a delicious secret.
“Well, hello, beautiful. Who are you?” Rich oozed.
“Poppy Reagan.” She shook hands with him and turned on flirt mode. “And you are?”
“Poppy, this is Rich Kline. He’s a casting director. Rich, Poppy owns the party planning company that made this happen.” I said.
“So, I have you to thank for the delightful outfits the waitresses are wearing.” He slyly eyed my cleavage then swung his attention back to Poppy. She gave a throaty laugh and Rich’s eyes lit up. Ian’s hand flexed against my waist.
Poppy reached into her bra and pulled out a business card. Rich’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Here, hon, be sure to call if you need an event organized.”
Not to be outdone, Rich dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a card of his own. “Let me know if you’re ever interested in getting into acting. I’m sure I can find you something.” Pulling out a second one, he turned to me. “Here, Sophie, you too.”
I made no move to accept the small blue cardstock. Instead, I held out the tray, and he dropped it. My lips curved into a sickly smile. “Thanks.”
Cody hurried up to Poppy and whispered frantically in her ear. She excused herself and, as cool as a cucumber, strode toward the back of the house.
Frankly, I’d had enough of Rich. I disengaged Ian’s hand and stepped away. “I’d better refill my tray and see if Poppy needs my help. Rich, it was nice meeting you. Ian, we’ll catch up later.”
As I retreated, I barely heard Ian’s grumbly undertones.
“Leave her alone. She’s not an empty-headed actress you can screw for a laugh.”
“Which one?”
“Both!” he barked.