Lovestruck in Los Angeles (5 page)

He took a deep breath. “You’re right. We should go.”

He turned to leave, but Jackson bent down to kiss my cheek first. “Sorry about her, Lizzie,” he whispered in my ear. “That was out of bounds.”

“Don’t worry,” I whispered back. It was nice of him to say, and the close contact was probably totally pissing Lola off. Win, win.

“You handled yourself perfectly.” He pulled back, looking down at me. “Make sure you catch me later, and I’ll get you that info about surf lessons.”

“I will.” I felt oddly touched by his gesture; Jackson usually seemed deaf to Lola’s rudeness.

I turned to join Thomas, neither of us saying goodbye to Lola. If that made us bad hosts, so be it.

“I cannot believe her,” Thomas muttered as we walked away. His voice was shaking. “She’s bad enough most of the time, but that was downright racist and she knew it.”

“It’s fine,” I said, though I was still pretty pissed myself. “She just likes to get under my skin.”

“She’s a horrible bitch. I don’t care if I have to work with her, I am done socializing with her outside of the studio.”

“Don’t let her ruin the night, Thomas. I’m fine.”

He stopped in the middle of the room to look down into my face. “You are, aren’t you? Sometimes I forget how strong you are.”

I looked at the floor. I had never considered myself particularly strong, though it was something that I was working on. But I was certainly stronger than petty little bitches like Lola Fischer. “I’ve heard much worse about my skin color,” I said, standing up on my toes to kiss his cheek. “It makes me sad for her. Such a pathetic effort.”

He laughed. “Good point. Come on, let’s go talk to some decent people.”

We did end up finding Thomas’s sister, Bryony, though I had lied about her just arriving—she’d been there since the afternoon and had even helped us decorate the room. His parents were there as well, and his older brother, Paul, and Paul’s wife Mary.

I loved Thomas’s family. They had been kind to me since the moment I met them, warmly welcoming me to their home. At that point, Thomas and I weren’t quite sure we were going to continue with our relationship—I had worried we were too different, with his career and the distance between our homes. I’d had a feeling that first night that his parents were rooting for us, and they had done nothing since to change my mind.

“Lizzie!” Bryony grabbed my arm as I approached. “This is such a lovely party! Did you know that Darrin Duke is here?”

I grinned and nodded. Bryony and I had had several giggly conversations about her favorite pop star, whom Thomas knew vaguely through a connection at the studio. “I told your brother to invite him specially,” I whispered in her ear. “Just for you.”

She giggled, squeezing my arm. “Thank you. He is so fit, it’s almost unreal!”

“You should talk to him.Thomas said he’s pretty nice.”

She blushed all the way to her wild, curly hair. “Oh, I couldn’t. He is far too big of a celebrity to give me a second glance.”

“Now where would I be if I had said that?” I asked, elbowing Thomas in the side.

“Him?” She laughed. “Oh, God, Thomas is so not a superstar.”

“Thanks, sis,” Thomas said drily.

Bryony was still cracking up. “It’s ridiculous! To think of it—stinky-arsed Thomas, on the same level as Darrin Duke.”

I laughed at the look on his face. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “You’re the cutest superstar in my book.”

Bryony walked away, still laughing. “I have to tell Mum. She’ll die. Thomas, as big a deal as Darrin Duke.”

Thomas watched her, shaking his head. “I think I can safely say that so long as I’m in touch with my family I will be in no danger of developing an inflamed ego.”

“They love you for the real stuff,” I assured him. “Which is much better, in my opinion.”

“What’s better?” Charlie asked, joining us.

“That his family is impervious to his celebrity.”

Charlie laughed too. “Thomas, a celebrity? Hardly!”

“Oh, God,” Thomas muttered. “You’re all going to destroy my confidence days before I have to be in Hollywood.”

“Come on,” Charlie said, ignoring him. He pointed to the far side of the room. “We’re all over there. I was just sent out in search of champagne.”

We snagged a passing waiter. “I’ll save you the trip,” Thomas said, pointing at his tray. “There are some thirsty people over there.”

The waiter handed over his tray, and we followed Charlie back the way he had come. I locked eyes with Mr. Idoni on the other side of the room as he replenished the buffet table. I waved, and he called out to me, “Try the bruschetta, Lizzie!”

“I come bearing bubbly,” Thomas announced, setting the tray on the table where our friends had gathered. “Drink up.”

“Cheers,” Carter said, grabbing glasses for himself and Meghan.

“You look lovely tonight, Lizzie, dear,” Meghan said, as I took the seat beside her.

“Thank you.” I smoothed my hands over the skirt I’d bought while shopping with Callie the day before. I liked it very much, though Callie moaned that it was nowhere flash enough for my new life on the West Coast. Deep blue and covered in matching lace, it had a modest scoop neck and a full, pleated skirt. I thought it was kind of retro and cool, and it made me feel feminine and pretty. According to Callie, however, I needed to lose about three inches from the hem and two from the neckline to make it L.A. appropriate.

“We were just chatting about that film we saw the other day,” Carter said. “Charlie and Callie saw it a few weeks ago in New York.”

“Yes, and neither of them agree with your assessment of the plot, Thomas,” Sarra said.

The conversation swirled around me, but I didn’t add much to it. It was comforting, my friends chatting the way normal people do. Not trying to one-up each other. Not trying to make anyone feel stupid or unimportant. So why was it so hard to get Lola’s stupid words out of my mind?

I’m sure Thomas would have assumed the bit that got to me most was her crack about my skin tone, but I’d been serious when I said I’d heard much worse. Growing up as one of the only Mexican kids in a mostly white suburb had assured me of that. Instead, I found myself replaying again and again her little dig about how lucky I’d been to meet Thomas. How he was going to sweep me off to California where I would get to shop all day (spending his money, no doubt) and lay in the sun.

I knew that Lola was a bitch and I shouldn't take her seriously. But how many other people would think the same way she did? It was true that I was basically about to enjoy a four-month vacation in sunny California on someone else’s dime. I would still be working for Heidi, of course, but it wasn’t like my meager salary was in any way going to contribute to the rent of that beach house. And Lola had mocked my work, too.
Didn’t Thomas get you a job with his agent? How sweet.

Is that how people saw me? A girl who got ahead because of who her boyfriend was? Heidi kept me busy enough at work for me to know that she did in fact need my help and hadn’t created the position just to please her biggest client. But she definitely had that tendency to treat me differently than she treated Imogen.

I sighed, and Charlie looked at me sharply. “You okay?” he asked softly. I looked around at the rest of our group; they were now engaged in a heated debate about the validity of reality television. No one seemed to notice us.

“I’m okay. Just had a run-in with Lola Fischer.”

He made a face. “Every time you talk to her you should just replay the look on her face when you bitched her out at that party last year.”

I smiled at him, feeling slightly better. It was nice that Charlie saw past her gorgeous figure and face and was on my side.

“Hey, I haven’t asked you about your book!” he said. “Where are you with it?”

The last remnants of my worry faded—that was the nice thing about Charlie, he was always so genuinely interested in his friends, and he could always cheer me up when I was feeling down.

“I’ve been sending out query letters.” I had spent part of my first year in London writing a book, which I had finally finished when I returned in August. It was a story of self-discovery, a story of love, and heavily inspired by my time in London, my time with Thomas. Since finishing it, I’d been working to try and find an agent or an editor that might be interested. But all the rejection was kind of grueling. “No bites so far.”

“It’s a tough gig.” He shook his head. “I’ve met a few writers in New York, you know, and they all say that first book is the toughest slog.”

“Yeah, I’m not expecting any miracles. It’d be nice to get some feedback, though.”

His face lit up. “You know what? Maybe I can help with that.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “An old girlfriend of mine is a junior editor in New York. She’s kind of green, but she works for a great publishing house and she’s got a great eye. Want me to see if she’ll look over your manuscript? Maybe give you a critique?”

I grabbed his arm. “That would be amazing! Do you think she’d be willing?”

He shrugged. “I can’t promise anything. She’s pretty busy from what I gather. But she does owe me a favor. Should I try?”

“Please,” I said, squeezing his arm. “Thank you, Charlie. That would be so awesome to see what someone in the industry actually thinks.”

He grinned at me. “No problem, love.” I know how hard it is to get started in a creative field. I’m happy to help where I can.”

Just like that, I felt revitalized. I didn’t have to spend all of my time in Los Angeles working on Thomas’s career—I could spend some time trying to get mine off the ground as well. What better place to get creative juices going then on that deck, with the romantic views of the ocean all around me?

The party was a smashing success. Everyone seemed to have a good time, with the exception of Lola, who could be heard loudly complaining about having to trek all the way out to Kentish Town. But she’d left fairly early and, to my surprise, without Jackson. He had eventually joined our group of friends, some of whom he knew a little through Thomas, and I think he may have actually had a good time with the little people.

Anne, Thomas’s mother, had pulled me in for a tight hug before leaving with her husband. “I cannot wait until you get home to hear all about it. Take good care of our boy, won’t you dear?”

“I will,” I promised, squeezing her back.

She kept her arms around me but pulled back far enough to look into my face. “I’m so glad he has you to go with him. I couldn’t have picked anyone better to have this adventure with him.”

Touched, I kissed her cheek before moving to hug Gilbert, her husband, and Bryony.

“Make sure you take him to Disney, Lizzie,” Bryony said. “Hey, did he ever tell you about the time he cried all day on Christmas because Father Christmas didn’t bring him tickets?”

“Shut up, Bryony,” Thomas said, but he hugged her anyhow. “Of course I cried. It was the biggest disappointment of my life. Disneyland is
cool
.”

“Of course it is, dear,” his mother said, hugging him one last time.

We walked with them to the edge of the patio, waving as they crossed the street and headed for the nearest underground station. I felt sad, watching them go. I couldn’t put a price on the way his family accepted me. It meant so much to me. But it also displayed, in sharp relief, the way my own family had responded to our relationship.

Not all of them
, I reminded myself, trying to think of Sofia, my brother Sam, my sister Laura, and my mother. Determined not to let anything else ruin my night, I firmly pushed Maria and my dad out of my mind.

And I was glad I did; between the good food, drinks, and company, I thoroughly enjoyed our last night in London. I was excited for Los Angeles, but even happier to know that after the movie was over, we’d be coming back here together. Back home.

Chapter Four

“God, I wish we had the day off,” Imogen said, staring morosely out at the water. “It’s a special kind of torture, being stuck inside with that view.”

I laughed. “Seriously, Imogen?” I leaned back in my chair a little bit to catch a glimpse of the ocean blue below. Imogen and I were alone in the office at the Malibu house, Heidi’s temporary headquarters while in L.A. Personally, I loved the set up. The office was gorgeous, all white and glass and light-filled, like the rest of the house. And it certainly didn’t hurt that it was located about five steps from my bedroom. It was the best commute I’d ever had.

“How about you look at it this way,” I said. “If you
have
to be at work, wouldn’t you rather have that view through the glass?”

She smiled. “Good point. It’s much nicer than the view of that dusty hallway we had on Reiden Street. But I still wish I could go to the beach.”

I thought for a minute. She had a point—we’d been here for more than a week so far, but our arrival had been marked by a run of bad weather. This was the first truly gorgeous day we’d had in California. A quick glance at my phone told me it was eighty degrees outside, and the view through the window proved there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. “Let’s get out of here,” I said impulsively.

“What? You mean skive off?”

I shrugged. “Heidi isn’t here, is she? And we’ve got loads of work done so far.”

“She’ll kill us,” Imogen said, looking out at the water with naked desire.

“She said she won’t be back today.” Heidi had left the office at the Malibu house an hour ago, and I knew she had several meetings on her schedule for the rest of the afternoon—I’d scheduled them myself.

I could tell Imogen was tempted, but her not entirely misguided fear of Heidi was holding her back. “Look,” I said, opening a file on my computer. “These are errands I said I would get done by the end of the week. Why don’t you come with me? That way we’re still working, but we can get outside.” The folder contained a long list of things that needed to be done. Office supplies for the house, some exercise equipment Thomas’s trainer wanted him to use at home, a few shirts that needed to be dry-cleaned before his upcoming interview with a local entertainment journalist. “If she calls I’ll tell her I was nervous about driving in L.A. traffic alone, so I begged you to come with. We’ll bring the company cell so we won’t miss anything. It will be fine.”