CHAPTER TEN

 

 

I stared at my reflection, admiring the view. I’m not really that vain. I actually tried to clean up for this. After three blessedly murder-free weeks, production wrapped on John Doe. And, as is customary in the entertainment world, they were holding a wrap party. As in ‘that’s a wrap’ and we’re celebrating the successful completion of shooting. I was invited by one of the actresses from the Agency who had appeared in the film and by Mia. I hadn’t been to a wrap party since New York City. I got dolled up.

Taking advantage of my height, I chose a floor-length body-skimming red satin dress with a plunging neckline and backline. Normally, I don’t show so much skin, but what the heck, it was a Vegas party! I decided to leave my blond hair long and loose; I hoped I presented a great combination of fancy and casual. If I didn’t, that was okay too. I liked it.

My cellphone alerted me that my Lyft driver was one minute away from the building. I rode the elevator to the ground floor and walked out of the building at the exact moment the Honda coupe indicated on the phone arrived. Perfect timing.

The car pulled up to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. One that would normally be a crazy financial extravagance. After waiting for a month to get a reservation, of course. I reminded myself that being even loosely connected to Hollywood had its privileges and walked into the lavishly decorated place.

Gorgeous arrangements of flowers adorned every table. Roses, lilies, and orchids, surrounded by delicate baby’s breath. Rhythmic music, Latin-flavored, played lightly in the background. Intimate lighting cradled the people in the room. Oh, the beautiful people. They were out in spades. Everything from floor length gowns like mine to barely there mini-dresses, kitten heels to six-inch stilettos, and tousled messy hair to savagely upswept do’s. There was an open bar and it seemed everyone had a drink in their hand. Not to be left out, I headed that way.

“I’ll take a whiskey sour,” I requested of the bartender, the stereotype of a good-looking young male service worker. He smiled broadly and made the drink.

As he handed me the glass, I noticed his eyes shift to over my shoulder, so I was unsurprised when I sensed someone’s presence behind me.

“Hello, Catherine. I didn’t know you were coming to this shindig.”

I turned at the velvety sound. “Hi, Alex. Jessica invited me.” I somehow managed to keep my jaw from dropping. Alex had also apparently chosen to go all out for the party, dressed in an actual tuxedo. There were no words to describe how amazing he looked. I had resisted the urge to contact him while he finished filming, desperate to keep our relationship professional. Now I wanted to throw that right out the window.

I must not have hidden my response, because Alex gave me a Cheshire cat grin. I took pleasure in watching his eyes darken with desire, his gaze traveling down my dress and back up to my face.

“You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Alex. You look pretty good yourself.”

We smiled at each other for a moment of a silence. At the second it seemed about to turn awkward, he found his voice.

“I’d do the chivalrous thing and offer to get you a drink, but you look like you’re doing okay.”

Noticing his empty hands, I flipped the script. “Would you like me to get you a drink?”

Alex laughed. “Sure, I’ll take a gin and tonic.”

I turned my head to address the bartender, who nodded that he heard. Once Alex had his drink in hand, we walked together to an oversized television showing a slideshow of still photographs taken during filming. Alex identified people I didn’t know and regaled me with a few stories from the set. As he wrapped one up, a hand touched my shoulder.

“Ms. Rodham?”

“Yes?” I turned toward the voice. A petite brunette with luminous dark skin and eyes smiled hesitantly.

“Jessica, how many times have I told you that you can call me Catherine?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I smiled inwardly. You could take the woman out of the South but you couldn’t take the South out of the woman. “Thank you again for making me your plus one.”

“I had such a good time on set. It seemed only right to thank you for helping me get my first real role.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone wave at Alex. He gave a slight wave back.

“Excuse me, ladies.” And then he was gone.

I only half-listened while Jessica talked about being on set, my attention on Alex. He began having an animated conversation with an absolutely gorgeous woman in one of the micro-dresses and stilettos I had noted earlier. They seemed very friendly. I wondered at the jealous tinge to my thoughts and gave myself a mental shake.

More and more people arrived and much mingling took place. Occasionally, I saw Alex but we didn’t speak again that night. A few times I noticed he had an odd expression on his face, like he smelled something he was trying to identify. What that could be, I had no idea.

As the evening wore on, and more alcohol was imbibed, the party became louder and raucous. I’ll admit I had three or four whiskey sours. I can really hold my alcohol; I was only a bit tipsy. I groaned when Robin Landon headed my way. She looked blandly nice.

“Hello, Catherine. Are you enjoying the party?”

“Of course. Are you?”

Such scintillating conversation. I glanced around, looking for an out, before focusing on the woman in front of me. No reason to be rude.

“I am, thank you.”

Interesting. She lied about having fun. “Thank you for introducing me to the councilwoman the other week.”

“You’re welcome. We missed you at last night’s meeting.”

Another interesting answer. Lie mingled with truth. “You and the councilwoman?”

“Yes.”

“The two of you seem close,” I said, curious about her reaction.

Robin blushed. “Not really.”

Absolute bald-faced lie. “Really? That’s not how it seemed at all. She seemed to rely on you.” That wasn’t true, but I had a hunch.

Robin beamed. “You think?”

“Definitely.”

“I try to be there for whatever she needs.”

Truth. Not a romance, though, and from what I’d sensed of the councilwoman, a one-sided relationship, whether business or friendship.

“I’m sure she appreciates that.” I doubted my words but wanted to be kind.

A male hand tapped me on the shoulder.

“May I have this dance?”

“Excuse me,” I said to Robin, who merely shrugged and turned away.

I danced with several men and although it was fun, more than a couple of times I saw Alex dancing with the hottie in the short dress.

And then, I looked around and didn’t see either of them. I walked the perimeter of the room and, I can’t believe it, even checked the restroom, looking for the woman. Neither were to be found. The party was winding down anyway (it was 3 in the morning, after all).

Not only was I jealous that Alex might have gone home with the woman, I was angry that he didn’t ask me to dance. Ugh. Maybe the alcohol was having more of an impact than I thought. It was definitely time to leave.