A Secret Life (18 page)

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I don’t think I’ll do any more of it.”

“No way. Really?”

Joan nodded. “I just want to write books.” Though even that was up in the air at the moment.

“But you could be famous.”

Joan chuckled and took a deep drink of the icy margarita. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would. So, what was he like?”

“Anthony?”

Nadine snorted. “Charlie Long.”

“Oh. Really nice. Surprisingly nice.”

“Did you get an autograph?”

“Never thought of it.”

“Hi, y’all.” A soft-spoken young woman, about five feet two, with a toddler on her hip, joined the conversation.

“Joan, this is Leila, David’s wife.”

“I guessed that by the little one,” said Joan, reaching out to shake Leila’s hand. She hardly looked strong enough to carry the child.

“Margarita?” asked Nadine.

“You bet.” The toddler squirmed and whined, and Leila put him down. “Watch him near the edge,” she called to a man who had to be David.

She smiled hesitantly at Joan. “David told me not to ask you this.”

Joan tensed. Had they heard she’d fired Anthony? “What?” she asked slowly.

Nadine handed Leila a margarita, and Leila took a large swig.

“Anthony just sold my first book.”

“He did?”

“A suspense novel.”

“Congratulations!” Joan was delighted to share in such happy news. She remembered her first sale vividly. The first one was Brian’s, of course. But the second one, the one she’d done all on her own, had been a momentous occasion. Anthony had taken her out to lunch, since she couldn’t tell anyone else about it.

For the first time, she felt a tinge of sadness at the memory.

Leila was nodding, her eyes focused on her orange plastic glass as she ran a fingertip around the rim. “I’m not supposed to…” She glanced furtively back at her husband. “Would you read it? And maybe give me a quote? Only if you like it. Only if you…” She clamped her mouth closed.

“Of course I will,” said Joan. “But I don’t know how a quote would help you.”

“We’d put it on the cover.”

“But I’m…nobody special.”

“Are you kidding?”

Joan took another drink. “Really. You guys. You’re embarrassing me.”

She felt an arm across her back. Even with all the hugging in this family, she instinctively knew it was Anthony.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“We’re getting her drunk,” said Nadine.

He nodded toward Joan’s margarita. “You be careful of those.”

Joan took a defiant swig. “It’s a good day to get drunk.”

It was.

She was suddenly happy to be here. Anthony’s house was a great place to hide out emotionally for a while. Her parents were far away. Indigo was far away. Anthony was still her agent for a couple more days. And his family liked her books.

That
was a very nice thing to hear.

She held her glass out to Nadine. “Can I have another?”

Nadine took the glass with a grin.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Anthony.

“I’m a big girl,” said Joan, with a toss of her hair. A few strands caught on his face, and he brushed them away, smoothing a hand over her scalp.

“And you can take care of yourself,” he mumbled.

It was probably a dig, but she chose to ignore it. “Absolutely.”

A
NTHONY’S BROTHER
Brett eased himself down in the next lawn chair, parked his beer on the grass and settled his second, loaded burger on a paper plate in his lap.

“So, what’s the deal?” he asked Anthony now that they had a moment alone.

“The deal?” Anthony took a sip of his own beer. He’d gone with a Bud Light. He figured Joan was drinking enough for both of them.

“You’ve been Jules Burrell’s agent all these years, and you didn’t say anything?”

Anthony slanted his brother a look of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

“Hey, we’re family.”

“So I should risk getting disbarred to share gossip?”

It was Brett’s turn to shrug. “I’m just saying, you could have hinted.”

Anthony snorted.

“She’s a woman,” said Brett.

“She is,” Anthony agreed.

“A hot woman.”

Anthony didn’t answer.

“Don’t you think?”

Anthony’s gaze strayed to where Joan was laughing with Nadine. Not that he hadn’t been watching her most of the evening anyway. “I’m not blind.”

“And you brought her here.”

“Yeah.”

“That means something’s going on between you.”

“No. That means things are uncomfortable for her in Indigo right now.”

“You could have taken her anywhere.”

Anthony slanted his brother an enigmatic grin. “I knew you’d want to meet her.”

“What a load of crap.”

“You want the truth?”

“No. I just want to gossip about your sex life.”

“We’re not having a sex life.”

“Sucks to be you.”

Brett didn’t know the half of it.

“She seems to like Nadine,” said Brett, taking a bite of his burger.

“That’s because Nadine keeps feeding her margaritas. Do you think your wife could slow it down a little?”

Brett licked a smear of mayonnaise from his thumb. “It could work in your favor.”

“
You
sleep with drunken women, do you?”

“Only Nadine.”

“She’s your wife.”

“What? You think I sleep with other women?”

“My point is, it’s hardly the same thing.”

“And my point is, some guys need more of an advantage than others.”

“You looking for a fight?”

Brett chuckled and leaned back in his lawn chair. “Don’t take your frustrations out on me, bro.”

“I don’t have any frustrations,” said Anthony. And he didn’t, expect for a nagging, unrequited lust, a possible murderer on the loose and the impending loss of his favorite client.

He downed a healthy swig of his beer.

On the flight over, he’d started having ridiculous thoughts about winning Joan back. After going through an extensive list of agents in his mind, he realized none of them were good enough for her. Not that he was good enough. But he wanted her anyway.

He considered telling Brett the truth. Brett knew women better than Anthony did, and he might have some useful advice for winning Joan back. But the feeling lasted only a split second. Close families were wonderful, but gossip was a natural hazard.

“What?” asked Brett, peering intently at Anthony.

Anthony took another drink. “Nothing.”

Brett glanced at Joan, then back at Anthony. “Something’s going on here.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Then why are you two a whole yard apart?”

“Because she’s talking to your wife.”

Brett set his plate down on the grass. “Listen, Anthony—”

“Don’t do this.”

“You were there for me with Nadine.”

Anthony drank again. “Joan’s not Nadine. She’s a client.”

“She’s more than a client.”

Anthony glared at his brother. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah. You do. You just don’t want me to talk about it to anyone else.”

That was true enough. And Brett couldn’t be trusted to keep anything from Nadine. And given that Nadine was quickly becoming Joan’s best friend, Anthony was keeping his mouth firmly shut.

“You had a fight with her,” Brett stated.

“She didn’t want to do the
Charlie Long
show.” There. That wasn’t exactly giving away a state secret.

“And you thought she should.”

Anthony snorted. “Of course I thought she should. Only a fool would pass up an opportunity like that.”

“And Joan’s a fool.”

“Joan’s not a fool.” She might be misguided, but she was a brilliant woman.

“So why did you force her to do it your way?”

“I didn’t force her.”

“But she did, and she’s mad.”

“She had a choice.”

Brett shook his head. “Anthony, Anthony.”

“Don’t get condescending on me.”

Brett stretched his legs out again, gesturing with his beer can. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice based on my five years of marital experience.”

“
Do
tell.”

“It’s your fault. Whatever happened, whatever went sideways, whatever went wrong, it’s all your fault. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. And she’s my client, not my wife.”

“She’s a woman. Apologize, and get on with it.”

Apologize to Joan? Lie, and tell her she was right to squander publicity opportunities? Tell her she could make a successful career by hiding from her fans?

He didn’t think so.

“Quit it,” barked Brett.

“Quit what?”

“Quit trying to reason this out logically. Apologize now, apologize often.”

“I’d be lying.”

“You’d be putting your ego on hold.”

“I don’t have an ego.”

Brett tipped back his head and laughed. “Anthony, you are a slave to your ego.”

“Get stuffed.”

“It’s her career.”

“It’s my job to give her advice.”

“How are you going to give her any advice if she’s not speaking to you?”

Brett had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. If Anthony was no longer Joan’s agent, how could he give her any advice at all? Who knew what kind of illogical choices she’d make without him?

Maybe Brett was right. Maybe he needed to give a little to gain more influence in the end?

That would mean apologizing to Joan. That would mean backing off and letting her go underground again. But at least it might not mean losing her. And Anthony was nearly sick at the thought of losing her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
HE SUN
had set. The kids had been put to bed. And Oscar had turned on the lanterns around the deck, giving the backyard a festive glow.

Brett appeared and put his arm around Nadine, and Joan felt an arm go across her back. She turned to see Anthony’s smile.

“Hey,” she said and smiled back. She was still enjoying her emotion-denying margarita buzz, and she wasn’t about to let anything bother her right now.

“I’m sorry,” he said into her ear.

“For what?” she asked.

“For everything.”

She saw Brett grin in her peripheral vision.
“Everything?”
she asked, not quite believing what she was hearing.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. All of it.”

“Then you’re not fired,” she said magnanimously, seizing the moment.

Brett jumped in. “She
fired
you?”

Joan put her fingers over her lips and giggled. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Why’d you fire him?” asked Nadine.

Anthony glared at his brother and sister-in-law.

“Our lips are sealed,” Nadine vowed, and Brett nodded to signal his concurrence.

Anthony still looked skeptical.

“Sorry,” Joan stage-whispered, feeling rather giddy, more from having rehired Anthony than from the margaritas, she realized.

“Are you going to remember any of this in the morning?” he asked.

“Of course.” Did she seem that drunk?

Then it occurred to her Anthony didn’t know she’d switched to nonalcoholic margaritas a couple of hours back. She decided it might be fun to mess with his head. She faked a hiccup. “Maybe.”

Anthony heaved a sigh.

Nadine giggled in delight. She knew Joan was barely tipsy.

Getting in on the act, she elbowed Anthony. “Might be a few other things she won’t remember in the morning.”

Brett stared at his wife in shock.

Nadine ignored him. “This could be your big chance,” she said to Anthony.

Joan winked at Nadine. Then she walked her fingers up Anthony’s bare forearm, feeling dangerous and flirty. “Got any ideas, Anthony?”

He brushed her hand away. “Quit fooling around.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

Nadine guffawed.

While Joan gave Anthony an exaggerated pout, Nadine whispered something to Brett. He grinned.

“Last night?” asked Brett with evident interest.

Joan decided to keep the joke going. “Last night, he said—”

Anthony’s hand clapped over her mouth.

She tried to talk, but no words could get through his grip.

“Joan is going to bed now,” he informed them.

She tried to tell him she was just joking around, but he turned her smartly toward the house.

She struggled to get free. She couldn’t disappear without saying good-night to her hosts. It would be unbelievably rude.

“Hmmff,”
she said, gesturing toward them.

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Anthony. He waved to his parents. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll see you in the morning. ’Night, Dad.”

Joan renewed her effort to get free.
“Hmmffeeff!”

“Just a few more steps,” he said.

Then the kitchen door banged shut behind them, and he took his hand off her mouth.

“Anthony!”

“Careful.” He kept a firm hand on her upper arm, almost lifting her off the floor as they made their way down the hallway.

She redoubled her struggle. “I have to say good-night. I have to thank them.”

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

He glared down at her. “And tell them I think you’re the sexiest woman alive?”

“I was joking.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to tell Brett and Nadine you said that.”

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“I’m not drunk, Anthony.”

He scoffed.

“Seriously.”

He turned suddenly, and she stumbled.

“Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe just a little tipsy.”

“I’ve been watching you slam back margaritas for four hours.”

“You’ve been watching me?” That made her smile. She’d been watching him, too. All evening, she’d been questioning her motives for firing him.

But she’d rehired him. That was smart.

They started up the stairs.

“You said yes, right?” she asked.

“Yes to what?”

“To being my agent again.”

He stopped on the top landing and turned to face her. “Ask me again in the morning.”

“I told you, I’m not drunk.”