Beautiful Liars (16 page)

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Authors: Kylie Adams

BOOK: Beautiful Liars
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“So you really like him,”Tilly observed, a note of surprise in her voice as she stabbed at a piece of eggplant.
“I'm interested,” Simone clarified, still not ready to admit it. “
Cautiously
.”
Tilly shrugged. “Well, in dealing with a man like that ... you'd have to be exceedingly tolerant if not outright blind on occasion. He traffics in low culture. With that comes all sorts of obscene temptations that no man can resist, especially a black man from a poor background.”
Simone tensed up again. “Tilly, if I don't meet the qualificationsto offer up opinion on the subject of children, then I say you're equally unqualified to talk about matters of race.”
“Oh, please,” Tilly replied, rolling her eyes. “I'm simply stating the obvious. Does he drive around in an ostentatious limousine?”
Simone hesitated, then nodded.
Tilly returned a smug smile. “I'm sure he loves nothing more than to have some woman perform obscene acts while they drive around. It's all so decadently predictable. He's probably a fixture at all the luxury brand boutiques. Am I right?”
Simone just sat there.
Tilly sighed. “This is textbook, Simone. Just know what you're getting involved with. Here's a man who'd probably laugh in the face of any woman who suggested a monogamous relationship. I'm sure he feels entitled to some sort of Hugh Hefner-like lifestyle. I predict a short-lived and volatile affair. If you ask me, it's not worth it. Don't even bother.”
 
 
A short time later, Simone was ensconced in a cab, mutteringsilent curses about all things Tilly Lockhart. What a rude, self-absorbed, self-righteous, opinionated, culturally insensitivebitch! And yet Simone had said yes to plans with her later in the week.Was it possible to truly hate the people you called your friends?
The taxi jerked to a stop in front of the Christian Dior boutique. Simone paid the fare and swung out. Standing just outside the store, she hesitated, giving the shopping bag in her hand a shameful glance. It was killing her to return merchandise,especially this gorgeous hobo bag, but there was simply no other way to cover the American Express bill. Sacrifices had to be made.
Simone stepped inside and prayed that her friend Punch was working. It would make the transaction much easier and more pleasant. Maybe even fun. Punch would totally get the concept of blowing too much money on fashion. Together they might even get a riotous laugh out of the situation.
Shit
. Punch was nowhere in sight. But her bitchy counterpart,Alexandra, was already staring Simone down, casting disapprovingeyes on the Dior shopping bag in her left hand.
She approached with radioactive attitude. “May I help you with something?”
Simone cleared her throat. “Yes, I have a return.”
“Was there a problem with the bag?” Alexandra asked. The implicit message in her tone suggested that the real problemwas with Simone.
“No, the bag is wonderful. It's just ... not appropriate for me at this time.”
“How unfortunate,” Alexandra sniffed as she carefully inspectedthe merchandise and studied the sales voucher. “I can issue a store credit.”
“That sounds lovely, but I'd prefer that the credit go to my card. Thank you.” She presented her American Express Gold.
Alexandra made no move to accept it. “I'm sorry. No refundsafter seven days. Store credit only.”
“I don't understand,” Simone said.
“Our return policy is clearly stated on your receipt,” Alexandrasaid, pointing to the large bold print at the bottom.
A sense of doom overcame Simone. “Certainly you can make an exception in this case. I'm one of your best customers.”
But the impervious look on Alexandra's face seemed to indicate otherwise. She passed the package back to Simone. “Store credit only.”
“
Fine
,” Simone huffed. “I'll just sell it on eBay and make a tidy profit.”
Alexandra glowered. “Come to think of it, you do look like the online garage sale type. Good luck with that.”
Simone was livid. The nerve! “Do you know what the only difference is between you and a Wal-Mart checkout girl?”
Alexandra raised her eyebrows haughtily.
“A better wardrobe,” Simone hissed. And then she walked out of the boutique, hobo bag still in hand. After all, a store credit would make no dent in the rubble of debt that was threatening to bury her alive. She needed cash.
Her mobile chimed with the sound of an incoming text message. Simone checked it and stopped cold on the sidewalk.
HEY, BROKE ASS BITCH. NEED A LOAN? COME BY AND EARN IT THE OLD FASHION WAY.
Tommy Robb had sent it. Simone was certain. The ignorantmisspelling of OLD-FASHIONED gave the dumb ass away. With an enraged gaze, she swept the area in every direction. There was no sign of the crazy bastard. But Simone knew that he was watching her.
She just knew it.
THE IT PARADE
BY
J
INX
W
IATT
 
Fill in the Blanks
 
Ultimatums are tricky things, darlings.If you're going to make one, be prepared to deliver on it. Fifty is
not
the new thirty. But that's preciselywhat a certain half-century-agedtalk show host thought when she threw down the tired old gauntlet,“Either she goes or I go!” Maybe this
seasoned
pro's fountain of youth elixir (the erotic dedications of a twentysomething bartender) is deludingher into thinking she's anything but a lucky piece of set furniture. This homeless man's (even poor guys can do better, so I've downgraded the phrase) Barbara Walters just might get pushed aside.
21
Sutton
“You son of a bitch!” Sutton roared. “How could you go behindmy back and enlist that opportunistic whore to pillow talk with Garrison Friedberg about a project I knew nothing about?
I'm
the creative consultant for this show!”
Jay Lufkin's expression was more beleaguered than fearful. “Sutton, please calm down.”
The condescension in his tone did not escape her. She cut a glance to the collection of vintage
Star Wars
figurines lined up like toy soldiers on his credenza. “Oh, I'm very calm, Jay,” she said menacingly. “I haven't even started to smash your miniatures yet.”
“You're blowing this way out of proportion. There's no conspiracy. I just asked Emma to speak with Garrison and determineif there was enough interest for an initial meeting.” He splayed open his hands. “That's it.”
Sutton found Jay's new confidence and cool authority to be extremely irritating. Give the little prick some success, and suddenly he thinks he's goddamn Gelman from
Regis and Kelly
. “No, that's not it. That's not it at all. I was deliberately left out of the loop. Emma came to you with this, didn't she?”
“Actually, it was my idea.”
Sutton stared at Jay, and much to her annoyance, she believedhim. “One that you didn't run by me.”
Now it was Jay's turn to be annoyed. “Sutton, you can barely display a shred of civility toward Emma on the air. I assumedthat your feelings toward Garrison were even more caustic. Or would you have relished the idea of going to him and asking for his help in a business venture?”
Sutton seethed silently. “It doesn't matter. The magalog idea sucks.”
“If that were really the case, you wouldn't have stormed in here like this,” Jay countered. It
is
a good idea. That's why you're pissed off.” He sighed. “But none of this matters anymore.Emma and Garrison broke up before the meeting got scheduled. Now she's not interested in asking for one, and I don't see him eagerly entering into a situation with two ex-girlfriendsin the mix.”
Sutton downloaded the tidbit about the breakup. For Emma's benefit, she hoped Garrison was currently dating a twenty-year-old. “He's not the only magalog publisher in the world.”
“But he's the best,” Jay said.
“Cristal is arguably the best, too. But that doesn't mean I won't drink Pierre Jouet.Why should we dismiss a potentially good idea just because
Emma
got traded in for a newer model?”
“You're probably right.”
“I'm right about a lot of things,” Sutton said. Sensing an opening, she settled into the seat opposite his desk and crossed her legs. “As the creative consultant for
The Beehive
, I have some concerns about the direction of the show.”
Jay regarded her curiously. “Okay.”
“As you know, Jay, I'm a veteran in this business. I've been on-air with the best of them at ABC, CBS, NBC, CNN, and Fox News. If I know anything at all, it's chemistry, that special magic that comes from combining the right personalities with the right program vehicle.” She took in a deep breath. “I just don't feel like we have the right chemistry ... at least not with this current assortment of talent. It's so difficult to nail down. It's a very delicate balance.”
“Yes, it is,” Jay agreed, studying her closely. “Very delicate indeed.”
“I'd like to see us ...
experiment
with the arrangement. We could compile a short list of potential names and bring them in as guest hosts.”
“With an eye toward hiring the best one permanently?” Jay asked.
Sutton nodded. “Exactly.”
“So you see this as an addition to the group?”
Sutton hesitated. “Actually, I think four is an ideal number.”
“Just cut to it, Sutton. Who's your target?”
“I don't have a
target
, Jay. But if I'm being honest, and I feel like I can be with you ... Emma feels out of place in this format. I realize that she has natural appeal to a very attractive demographic, but there's a better puzzle piece out there for us.We just have to find it.”
He shook his head. “Our research says otherwise.”
“I'm the creative consultant, Jay.”
“You're absolutely right,” he replied tersely. “And you just consulted. Thank you for your input.”
Sutton rose up defiantly. “I feel very strongly about this issue. It's not going to end here in the office of a neophyte. Maybe the success of this show is getting bigger than you can competently handle.”
“Don't, Sutton.” His tone seemed to convey more sympathythan anger.
“I won't be
handled
, Jay. I'm a pro. I've got clout. I was reporting on presidential elections when you were still jerking off in the family bathroom.”
“Believe me, Sutton, the handling you get right here is preferable to the handling you'll get from the White Glove executives.” His voice was harsh.
Sutton sensed danger but decided to call his bluff. “I'll find that out for myself.” She started to leave.
“You're wasting your time, Sutton,” Jay said. This time his tone was ominous.
She stopped at the door, keeping her back to him.
“Emma isn't going anywhere. She's the star. And her researchnumbers back that up.”
Sutton swallowed hard.
“Your open hostility made for fun gossip in the beginning,but now it's making viewers uncomfortable,” Jay went on. “They want to see a maternal figure on the set, someone with some real warmth.” There was a pregnant pause. “An offer went out to Paula Deen yesterday.”
Sutton whipped around. “That country cook?” Her voice was but half its full compass. “They want to replace me with
her
?”
Jay waved it off. “She wants too much money. They'll never come to terms with her.”
Sutton could hardly breathe.
“I'm only telling you this because you sound like a woman who's ready to issue an ultimatum.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Then be prepared to live up to your end of it.”
Sutton had never felt like a bigger fool. Here she was plotting,scheming, and threatening to pull rank in an effort to oust Emma Ronson. Meanwhile, the Powers That Be thought so little of her own contribution that even a calorie-busting short-order cook with multiple chins was deemed a worthy replacement.
The humiliation was total. And as she stood here so close to losing this job, she realized how much she desperately wanted it.
The Beehive
was a big, splashy hit. Riding the wave could change her life professionally and financially. Deep down, she knew that it would succeed—with or without her.
Jay seemed to pick up on her moment of humility. “It's not too late, Sutton.You can turn this around.”
“It sounds like they want a grandmother, Jay,” Sutton said quietly. “I'm the woman with nothing in her refrigerator but a bottle of champagne and ajar of olives.”
He grinned at her. “All they want is a maternal figure. Mothers can come at you in a variety of ways. Just don't be the one who eats her young.”
Sutton cracked a smile. “I don't want to lose this.” Her voice broke on the last bit. “There's no place else for me to go right now.”
“You still have a place here,” Jay said gently. “All you have to do is reclaim it.”
“You mean keep the seat warm until you find the next Florence Henderson?”
“I wouldn't call what you've been doing keeping the seat warm.Your chair is a block of ice.”
Sutton was silent.
“You don't have to compete, Sutton,” Jay told her. “You don't have to wear shorter skirts and date younger men.You've got twenty years—if not more—on every other cohost.”
Sutton winced.
“And that's not a bad thing. It's nothing to try to hide or to be ashamed of.Your cohosts need your wisdom and your experience and your maturity. Give it to them, and you'll be giving it to the audience.” Jay made gestures to Sutton's hair and clothing. “You put on a good front, but you're not comfortablewith any of this. And the viewers aren't comfortable, either. This is morning television. It's intimate.You have to be natural.”
She practically worked up a sweat trying to remain impassive.It was a bitter pill to swallow. Emma was the goddamnstar. Finn was the TV virgin. Simone was the critics' dartboard. But Sutton was the one getting a lecture on what to wear and how to act if she wanted to keep her fucking job.
“I need some time.” She managed to say it without breakingdown.
Jay nodded.
Sutton left him there to wonder just how much. She tore into her dressing room, grabbed her purse, alerted the car servicethat she was ready, and stalked out of the studio without a word to anyone else.
The ride home nearly killed her. It was nothing more than a masochistic internal replay of the worst meeting of her career.
They want to see a maternal figure on the set
.
Someone with some real warmth
.
An offer went out to Paula Deen yesterday
.
Just don't be the one who eats her young
.
The remaining hours of the day loomed ahead like a torturesentence. Suddenly, it dawned on her that Scooter had the day off. He was at her apartment now, probably still sleepingon the forty-thousand-dollar mattress he claimed as a secondresidence. Sutton shook her head, completely torn. He was a hot stud but a stone-cold loser.
Oh, God, she did not want to see him or fend off his lame attempts at conversation. Sutton yearned to be alone. Suddenly, she reconsidered. Scooter might be good medicine for the pain after all. He could fuck her silly. And then she could take a handful of Ambien and zone out for the next forty-eight hours.Yes. That was a beautiful plan.
To avoid any engagement from the too-chatty doorman, she pretended to be talking on her cell phone as she swept through the lobby and into the elevator.
Sutton entered her apartment. From the bedroom, she could make out the low mumble of Scooter's voice. She walked back to greet him.
“Oh, it's a sweet setup, man.” He was naked and flat on his back, staring at the bedroom ceiling as he talked on her cordlesstelephone and scratched his balls. “I'll lose a bet like this anytime. Just bring it on.”
Sutton halted outside the door and continued to listen. She did not want to ... but she could not stop herself.
“She's not that bad of a fuck, dude,” Scooter went on. “I'm serious. The bitch never had a kid, so her cunt still has some grip. Shit, I've nailed women ten years younger than this who were in worse shape. One lady took off her panties, and her labia drooped down.” He laughed. “I thought it was going to hit the floor, dude ... I'm not joking ... You know it ... Hell, yeah, she's rich. She sleeps on a fucking mattress that cost forty grand ... Yeah, I've racked up some pretty decentshit—an Xbox, clothes, shoes. And not crap from The Gap, either. Real designer shit ... No doubt ... I think I want her to pay off my credit cards next. I need that shit out of my life ... No, I think she will ... All I have to do is shove my cock in her mouth. She can't get enough of it.” He laughed again. “I'll see you guys later tonight. Let's pick up some young hotties for a change. I've forgotten what a tight pussy feels like ... Okay ... Later.” And then he hung up and drifted back to sleep.
For the longest time, Sutton stood there, statue still, wonderingwhat to do. Finally, the answer came to her. Just steps away in the master bath medicine cabinet was the Ambien.
The whole bottle would get the job done.

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