Party Girl (28 page)

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

“OK, so the day started off truly sucky. That’s a given.” Miko and I are changing out the pillows in the lounge for the last Sundance event. “But we’re an hour and a half removed from the start of the very last party, and we get to go home tomorrow. These are bright sides, and I think we should focus on them.”

I’d told her the whole sordid story while crying and shivering under the blankets from both my bed and hers. I’d finally let her coax me into the shower and downed two cups of coffee and three of the dozen donuts Revere ran out to grab; apparently, he’s on Miko’s emergency diet of sugar. I’d spent almost an hour doing my hair and my makeup, because everyone knows about the restorative effects of good hair. But I am still floating in that weird sensitive place where a slight breeze might make me start crying.
But I’m going to hold it together long enough to get through this party!

“I’m good.” I smile at her weakly. “I’m just going to get through tonight, and then I’ll deal with everything else when I get back.”

She studies me for a second, and then drops the pillow she’d just stuffed into a new cover.

“You need more sugar,” she says decisively. “Wait here. I think I have some SweeTarts in my bag!”

It stands to reason that the party that night would be our biggest and would present the most issues. Within the first forty-five minutes of opening the door, we’ve reached our two-hundred-person capacity; we still have a line of at least seventy-five people out front who are screaming about being on the guest list and demanding to be let in.

I have to ask at least three people to stop smoking inside; celebrity or not, if they set off the fire sprinklers, I’ll have to beat them to death.

A former boy-band member swipes an entire bottle of Riverton and is halfway through it when I have to ask Joey to escort him out for belligerence.

It’s been a hellish night, and I haven’t stopped running from one fire to another, but the party is packed with A-list celebrities, and there are at least fifty paparazzi out front. Everyone involved is going to get amazing press out of this. As tough as it is, it is nice to end the week on a success.

“Did you see this e-mail from Selah?” Revere asks as I stare dubiously at a group of unruly guys who keep causing trouble at the bar.

“About Brian Paul coming in?” I smile at him. “Yeah, I had a lounge area cleared for them. She said they were fifteen minutes out . . . and coming in through the back.”

“And aren’t you excited? I thought you loved pop music, and it doesn’t get any bigger than him.” He winks at me.

“I liked his music better in the beginning . . . now he’s turned sort of . . .”

“Douche-y?”

I laugh at the pristine Revere using such a common word.

“Exactly. I guess it doesn’t matter, though, since I can’t imagine anyone who would garner more press. I’m sure Selah is salivating at securing his presence. Ooh, do you think he’ll have Katie with him?”

Katie is a former child star turned wild child, and she and Brian are forever having blowouts in public. The tabloids go crazy for them.

“I don’t know. Are they on or off right now?”

“Who knows?” I throw my hands up. “Can you have the chef wait to fire the apps for their table until we know how many are in the party? I can only imagine how big the entourage is for someone like him.”

“Already on it, girl. I’m just going to check in with the kitchen. Will you text me when they come in?”

“Will do.” I’m distracted. The rowdy guys are trying to create some sort of tequila bomb with a Riverton shot and Red Bull . . .
This won’t end well
. I call for security on my mouthpiece. They are going to have to come deal with this group before it gets out of hand.

I’ve just finished the unpleasant job of getting the group out of the party when I get word that Brian and Katie are coming in through the back entrance. Odd that Selah would bring them in through there since I’d assume she’d want all the press shots she could get.

I hustle to meet them and find Selah leading the group through the long hallway with Joey’s help. Brian and Katie are both so much shorter than I thought they would be. He is wearing an oversize sweatshirt and a huge beanie with dark Ray-Bans, even though it has to be hard for him to see in the dim party. Katie can’t weigh more than one hundred pounds. She has on snow boots with fuchsia tights and a matching fur jacket. Honestly, I have sports bras that cover more skin than her leather miniskirt does, and I have the strongest urge to find her a blanket or something.

They all come sauntering down the hall with Selah cooing praise about Brian’s last album and Katie’s stunning fashion sense. I’m actually sort of embarrassed for her . . . Pandering to teenagers is just gross. Brian, Katie, and their entourage don’t seem to mind at all, though. They soak in the attention like it’s UV rays, and they fairly glow in the aftereffects.

As we snake our way through the crowd the other guests pretend to be oblivious while surreptitiously checking out Brian’s and Katie’s every movement. When they arrive at their lounge they plant themselves in the middle of a sofa while their crew covers every other available surface and starts working on the bottle service.

“Can I get you anything else?” Selah asks flirtatiously.

Brian gives her a grin that I’m sure is his very best version of sexy, and crooks a finger. Selah bends down to let him whisper in her ear and then stands up with a nod.

“Of course,” she purrs.

She turns around and signals me to step away with her; I follow quickly.

“Brian wants a rum and coke and Katie would like champagne. Go grab them from the bar and have the servers put them in coffee cups,” she calls over the music.

I look back at the already-rowdy circle around the young couple, then back at Selah, confused. “They’re—I don’t think either of them is even twenty yet. We can’t serve them.”

“Don’t be a moron,” she hisses. “This is a private event. We can do whatever we want!”

My parents have owned a restaurant for longer than I’ve been alive. I know that private parties don’t change the stipulations of a liquor license or the legal drinking age. I shake my head slowly.

“Selah, this is really dangerous. If anyone finds out it could be so damaging for the clients—”

“There you go again, trying to think for yourself when that’s not what I pay you for.” She glares at me. “Those two get served all the time, and they show up to parties like mine because they know they’ll be accommodated. Now go get them a drink.”

She has that look in her eye . . . the one that makes me think she might eat her young if she ever finds a man willing to give her any. I know she wants to bully me into doing something I know is wrong, but I just can’t.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I really don’t feel comfortable—”

“You know what? You’re a child!” she spits. “I’ll do it myself.”

Then she huffs off to the bar while I stay glued in place. Five minutes later she comes back over with two to-go coffee cups and hands a drink to each of them. They laugh and Katie gives her a big over-the-top hug, then Selah sits down on the arm of the sofa to chat them up.

I’m still watching half an hour later when she gets them a second round. When they finally get up to go around midnight, I relax a little. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen, but the whole scene made me nervous . . . Maybe I really am immature? I shrug it off and go to grab vendor checks to distribute.

Very few things have ever felt as joyful as waking up the next morning and realizing that Sundance is over. I have to stop by the venue this morning to grab a couple of things, but other than that I am free! I plan to spend the whole weekend in my pajamas, and I cannot wait!

I take my shower, do my hair and makeup, and put on some skinny blue jeans, my red snow boots, and a kelly-green sweater . . . I’m technically not working today, and I can’t handle another second wearing anything black. I grab my phone only to realize it’s dead; I’d been too tired last night to remember to plug it in. Miko is still passed out so I tiptoe down the stairs, grab my jacket, and start the short snow-covered walk to the space for the last time.

Once I get on site I end up helping wrap up some of the more delicate decor. Taylor and his team would spend at least two days breaking everything down. My flight isn’t until four, so I figure the least I can do is help them until I have to leave for the airport.

I am just taping some bubble wrap around a lamp base when Selah comes hurrying into the room. She looks impeccable as always in her dark wool Fendi coat and dark Jackie O–style sunglasses, but she’s radiating nervous energy.

“There you are!” She practically runs over to me.

I jump up off the floor; I’m more than a little surprised to see her here today . . . Selah doesn’t stick around for cleanup, not ever.

“I’ve called your cell phone at least twenty times.” She whips off her sunglasses, annoyed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I left it charging back at the house.” I wipe my dirty hands on my jeans. “Can I help you with something? Was there an issue with your flight?”

“You haven’t heard then?” She looks around nervously.

I look the room over with her, confused. The production crew is busy breaking down furniture; no one is paying attention to us.

“Heard what? I’m sorry, I should have had my phone on me. I can find a laptop and make whatever changes you need.”

“No, come with me.” She grabs my elbow and pulls me upstairs to the tiny conference room that has served as our office all week. I am so stunned—she is actually touching me—and I just hurry along with her.

Once we get inside she closes the door behind her and looks me up and down.

“There was an issue—last night at the party.”

I had been here cleaning up with the crew until almost 3:00 a.m. and no one had told me about any significant drama. I have no idea what’s going on, only that she’s on edge, and it’s in my best interest to back her off of there.

“There was? No one told me. But if you let me know what happened, I can see what I can do to make everything right.”

“It’s all over the news! I can’t believe you don’t know this already; who doesn’t follow the news?” She is as exasperated as ever but keeps biting her bottom lip, a nervous gesture I’ve never seen on her before. What could have happened at our event that was newsworthy? I have no earthly idea.

“Was there an issue . . . with capacity permits?” It’s the only thing I can think of. The Park City PD has hounded us about it all week long.

“No, you idiot!” she snaps. “It was Brian fucking Paul! He and Katie ran out of here and jumped into a neon-yellow Hummer and then drove that fucking cliché right through the ‘Welcome to Park City’ sign!”

I gasp in shock but she ignores me.

“They’re fine, not a scratch on them, but the Mormons are going crazy. His blood alcohol was way over the limit, and he’s only nineteen! Christ! There were paparazzi everywhere! It’s a fucking shit-storm!”

“Oh God.” I stare at her in horror. What would this mean for SSE, or Riverton, or Barker-Ash? “What can I—”

She looks at me, calculating, and then her face turns sweet. “See, that’s just like you, Brinkley. You’re always looking for ways you can help. That’s what makes you such a great addition to our team.” Her tone is cloyingly sweet and concerned. She sounds just like she did on the day she talked to me about Brody. The memory makes me anxious.

“I think you’ve more than proven yourself to me this week. When we get back we need to talk about moving you up to event coordinator.”

Wait, what? A promotion?

I’m so taken aback by her abrupt change in topic, and the offer she’s making, that I momentarily forget about what we are discussing.

“Really?” I am in shock. I’ve heard it usually takes a couple of years for her to consider promoting anyone.

“Of course. You’ve earned it!” she says enthusiastically. “Let’s get your stuff, and then you can ride to the airport with me and we’ll discuss it.” She shoos me towards the door.

“OK. So you’re not worried about the Brian Paul thing?” I ask nervously, sure she’s going to fly off the handle again. But she loops her arm through mine like we’re the very best of girlfriends and walks with me down the stairs.