NOW THAT HIS FATHER WAS safely married for the fourth time, Jake Sica decided he’d done his duty by attending the wedding, and now it was time to start getting his life together. Since arriving in L. A. from his home base in Arizona barely a week ago, so much had happened, and he’d been so preoccupied that he’d done nothing about finding an apartment, let alone checking in with the magazine he was about to start taking pictures for. Which was kind of stupid, because until he let them know he was in L.A. and ready to work, there would be no weekly paycheck coming his way. And although he was an award-winning photographer, he was not exactly rolling in bucks. Which is one of the reasons he’d decided to take the highly paid magazine job in L.A.
He sat in a coffee shop on Sunset toying with a late breakfast of bacon and eggs, ruminating his fate, and wondering why it was his luck to have met a gorgeous, delectable woman—with whom he’d fallen instantly in love, not to mention lust—who then turned out to be an extremely highly paid call girl. Goddamn it! The whole scenario was like a bad movie.
Last night he’d had dinner with his new best friend, Madison, and she’d advised him to call Kristin and hear her side of things. He’d done so, but Kristin was out, so he’d left a long message on her answering machine. So far she hadn’t responded.
He had a feeling she might have been sitting beside her machine listening to him and hating him because he’d walked out on her when he’d found out the shattering truth.
Fuck! He’d blown it. He should at least have stayed around long enough to listen to what she had to say. Instead he’d marched out like an insulted virgin, yelling something like, “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve worn a condom.”
Jesus! Talk about bad behavior.
After brooding over his coffee, he finally went to a pay phone and tried again to reach Kristin.
This time a female voice answered, only it wasn’t Kristin—it sounded more like a foreign maid. “Kristin?” he asked hopefully, even though he knew it wasn’t her.
“No, this Chiew. I take message?”
“Uh . . . I need to talk to the lady you work for. Will she be back soon?”
“Don’t know. Madam not come home last night.”
Oh, that was great. She was probably out with a big-bucks client having wild, paid-for sex.
“What time will she be home?”
“No, sorry.”
He gave her his number at the hotel, impressing upon her that it was urgent Kristin call him the moment she came in. He didn’t know what else to do, but he did know it was imperative that he talk to her as soon as possible so that he could try to straighten things out.
He went back to his table, finished his coffee, paid the check and strode out into the hot noon sun.
• • •
In her office at the TV station, Natalie De Barge was busy working on what could turn out to be the biggest story of her career, and it wasn’t about Salli T. Turner. The lead had been handed to her by her news director, Garth, who had a loyal spy in the police department. She’d taken the small amount of information he’d given her and run with it.
Natalie was well aware that this was her big opportunity to get out of boring show-business gossip and into hard news. This was her chance to shine with a real story. She, Natalie De Barge, was about to become famous.
She’d been working on her story all night, and now she had it together in time for the noon news.
As she sat at her computer finishing up, Jimmy Sica, the good-looking news anchor with the dazzling smile, wandered over and stood behind her. “I hear you got a hot deal goin’, babe,” he said, rubbing her shoulders.
“That’s right, Jimmy,” she replied, shrugging his hands off her back.
“Y’know,” he said casually, “Garth and I were talking, and although your story’s kind of showbiz-related, he thought I should be the one to break it.”
She turned around and stared up at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding. This is my story, Jimmy. Mine. I worked on this all damn night and all morning, and I am not giving it up to anyone.’
“But it’ll be stronger coming from me,” Jimmy pointed out.
“What’s wrong with Garth?” Natalie snapped, her eyes flashing major danger signals. “He didn’t have the balls to tell me himself?”
“Guess he knew you’d be mad,” Jimmy said weakly.
“Fuck him and fuck you, Jimmy,” she said furiously. “I’m on air with this. Don’t mess with me.”
“No need to get nasty,” he said, backing off, a hurt expression on his handsome face.
“If you had a great exclusive, wouldn’t you be angry?”
“I’m only trying to be helpful.”
She narrowed her eyes. “In what way?”
“You’re not used to presenting hard news. You do the trivia—who’s sleeping with whom—the Leonardo DiCaprio and Gwyneth Paltrow shit.”
“Yes. And that’s exactly what I’m trying to get away from. This is my opportunity.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties caught up your butt,” Jimmy said, rapidly backing off. “I’ll tell Garth.”
“Yeah, and while you’re doing that, tell him the next time he has something to say to me, he can do it himself.”
Jimmy mock-saluted. “Got it.”
Natalie was fuming. She should’ve known that Garth wanted her to do the work, while Jimmy took all the glory. It was always that way.
But they weren’t getting away with it this time. This story was definitely hers.