When You Were Mine (Adams Sisters) (6 page)

             
Well, I could lie and say I was dating someone...

              Nah, he’d already been down that road—and ended up with a new brother-in-law.

              Shoving his thoughts to the back of his mind, Flex stepped out of the shower, toweled off and slid on his pajamas.  When he finally returned to his bedroom, he was stunned to see Lincoln climbing in beneath the sheets.

              “Did I miss something?”

              Lincoln punched his pillow and dropped his head back.  “You have the couch.”

              “Excuse me?”  Flex tossed his towel to land on his suitcase.  “This is
my
room.”

              “Correction.  It
was
your room.  Tonight it’s
my
room--especially since you got me evicted out of Peyton’s bed.”

              “Don’t you two have a house somewhere?”

              “Renovations.”  Lincoln reached over and tossed a pillow to Lincoln.  “The couch.”

              “I don’t think so.”  Flex tossed the pillow back and smacked his brother-in-law in the face.  “I didn’t just endure airport hell and nearly kill myself climbing that damn tree in the backyard just so I can sleep on the couch.”  He stormed toward the bed and peeled back the sheets on the vacant side.

              “What are you doing?”

              “Going to bed.  You’re more than welcome to sleep on that side, but I’ll be damn if I’m sleeping downstairs.”  He clapped his hands and the lights went out.

              Lincoln clapped the lights back on.  “We can’t share a bed.”

              “I’m not moving.” Flex yawned, clapped and closed his eyes.  “And make sure you stay on that side of the bed…
Big Daddy
.”

              Joey wanted a drink, a gun and a priest--in that order; instead, she settled for a carton of cookie dough ice cream and a pair of scissors.  The moment the first scoop entered her mouth, euphoria coursed through every inch of her body.  By the time the cool dessert glided down her throat, the feeling vanished and she shoveled more and more into her mouth, trying to get it back.

              During short breaks, she proceeded cutting up every picture she could find of Laurence.  For a time, she took immense pleasure slicing his face in half, into quarters, and then smaller and smaller.  After awhile even that simple satisfaction waned.

              She returned to her ice cream as more tears arrived.  Before long she was a sobbing, gooey mess.  It didn’t help that her mind conspired against her.  Every time she shoved one image of Laurence out of her mind, a thousand more crammed inside.

             
How on earth did I mess this up?

              She sat still in the center of her bed, dressed in her SpongeBob SquarePants pajamas, and waited for an answer.  Instead all that came was an image of that creep director shoving his tongue down her throat.  She should have bitten it off.

              “It’s not fair,” she mumbled against her spoon. “Why can’t I find true love?”  She sniffed and mopped her face with the back of her hand.  “Even Peyton has been married twice.”

             
There has to be something wrong...with me.

              Joey nodded at her conclusion and forced herself to climb out of bed.  Shuffling across the cold wooden floor, she stopped in front of the full-length mirror and dragged her gaze over her reflection.

              Her depression sank lower.

              Sure she had curves, but certainly not like the Coca Cola bottle curves Laurence’s new fiancé sported.  Sitting her half carton of ice cream down on the floor, Joey stood tall and lifted her B-cup breasts and frowned.  If more than a hand full was a waste, why did men flock to the D’s and Double D’s of the world?

              Joey cocked her head from side to side.

              “I could always get implants,” she whispered and turned to the side to see if she could imagine herself stuffed to the max with silicone.

              Next her gaze traveled to her thin lips.  She had always hated they weren’t as full as Peyton’s or Frankie’s, but now her sugar high had her considering injecting collagen into them.

              Joey squinted at her face.  Were those bags under her eyes?  When had she developed those?

              She frowned and then noticed how the act caused her forehead to crease with lines.  Botox could fix those.  Her critical eyes then roamed over her thick mane.  Before this moment, it had been one of her favorite features.  Now she found fault with the heavy, straight mass.

              Laurence, once again, popped into her head.  Had he noticed all her flaws?

              Joey rolled her eyes.  Of course, he noticed.  He was a cosmetic surgeon for Pete’s sakes.  He made his living perfecting women...and
Carlina
looked as though she had just rolled off the showroom floor.

              Suddenly, it all made sense.

              Laurence couldn’t marry anyone who wasn’t perfect¾and she was far from it.  She sniffed while her self-esteem plummeted.  However, as time ticked by and the ice cream depleted, Joey’s depression morphed into anger.  From there, revenge seeped into her mind.

              She smiled wickedly.  When it came to revenge, there was only one sister to call.  Joey shuffled over to the nightstand and picked up the phone.  “Hello, Michael?”

Chapter 7

              Ryan had a sinking feeling he was going to Italy.

              “Lake Como and Milan, Italy,” Zach said.  “Paradise.”

              Ryan refused to be pacified and grunted into his drink.  Moviemaking was his life.  Movie politics were his worst nightmare.

              Zach laughed, gliding his hand through his premature graying locks as his Irish green eyes flashed.  “Aw, c’mon.  Don’t look like that.  Have you ever been there?  The sun, the land--the women.”  He jiggled his eyebrows.  “
Le molto belle donne
.”

              Ryan’s brows squeezed together.  “Is there a language you
don’t
know?”

              “Never cared for Portuguese.”

              Their waitress appeared, showing more skin than clothes.  “Can I get you fellows anything else to drink?  Boss says everything is on the house.”  Her gaze locked with Ryan’s as she smiled.  “We all heard how you decked his up-tight brother.”  She inched closer to him.  “Is there any way
I
can thank you as well?”

              Ryan didn’t mistake her offer and smiled.  However, his body responded as if he’d been splashed with freezing-cold water.  “No. I’m good.”

              “Then I’ll check with you later.”  She winked and sauntered off.

              “What the hell is wrong with you?” Zach questioned.  “Did you not check out the ass on that girl?  It brought a damn tear to my eye.”

              “Don’t let Maggie hear you talking like that,” Ryan warned.

“Come now.”  Zach placed a hand over his heart.  “I’m a happily married man.  There’s a difference in looking and
doing
, if you know what I mean.”

“If you say so.”  Ryan thought about all of Zach’s lusty leers, club hopping and lap dances and just didn’t understand the terms of his friend’s marriage.

“But what about you?  You’re forty-five years old.  When are you going to find a nice girl and settle down?” Zach asked.

“Me?” Ryan laughed.

“Yeah, you.”  A glint of seriousness reflected in his friend’s eyes.  “Don’t tell me that you still don’t believe in holy matrimony.”

Ryan reached for another cigar.  “Regardless of what most people think around here, Hollywood and marriage does not mix.”

“I know, I know,” Zach droned.  “It’s hard as hell trying to wade through ambitious actresses and gold diggers, but sometimes, man, you just have to take a leap of faith.  You know what I mean?”

He nodded absently and reminisced on a beautiful pair of long, toned legs gliding through a bathroom window.  A smile curled his lips.

“Maybe you
have
found the right girl.”  Zach grabbed his drink and leaned forward.  “Who is she?”

Ryan blinked out of his reverie to notice the Cheshire grin on his friend’s face.  “I didn’t say I met someone.”

“You didn’t have to.”  Zach snickered.  “The look on your face says it all.  Is she an actress?”

“There’s no Mrs. Right, but I had a good candidate for Mrs. Right Now that I let slip through my fingers,” Ryan said, unable to wipe the grin off her face.

“Ah, who is she?” Zach glanced around.

Ryan clammed up and puffed on his cigar.

“Hey, I thought we were friends?”

“So did I.”  Ryan’s annoyance returned.  “The studio promised to green light
A Nation’s Defense
if I directed
Candyland
.”

              Zach winced.  “Yeah.  That was a stinker.”

              “I told you that, when I read the script,” Ryan said.  “And every day while viewing dailies.”

              Zach shrugged as his lips sloped unevenly.  “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.” 

              That was Zach’s answer to everything and it pissed Ryan off how his good
friend
was trying to pull the old bait-and-switch maneuver on him.

              “C’mon.”  Zach sobered at Ryan’s permanent frown.  “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong.  I’m trying to get your finance package together, but you know how
slow
things work in this town.”

              “I’m only aware of how fast my career is tanking.  My first film was nominated for three Golden Globes and now, twenty years later, I’m begging for scraps.  What the hell happened?”

              “It’s just a slump.  Don’t worry about it.  Trust me.  I’m going to take care of you.”

              Ryan envisioned a nail slamming into his coffin.  “If I had a nickel every time I heard that, I would have my financing.”

              “Very funny.”

              Ryan held up his glass and signaled to the waitress for another drink and then caught sight of the smudge ink of his hand.

              “Oh, no.  No, no.”

              “What’s wrong?”

              He set his drink down and stared at his hand. Just great.  Now he had no way to contact Joey--not that she wanted to hear from him.

              “Ryan?”

              “Uh, nothing.”  He waved for the waitress again.

              “C’mon.  Relax.  Have another drink, pick out one of these delectable beauties and let me worry about the money.”

             
Famous last words.

              Zach leaned forward.  “Now back to your love life.  This girl you were smiling about, she’s not one of Rachelle’s escort girls, is she?”

              “What?”

              “Well, that was Kitten you took to the
Candyland
premier the other night, right?”

              “I didn’t retain the name.”  He frowned at his friend.  “How do you know her?”

              “How do you think?  She’s an--”

“Actress,” Ryan cut in.

“Now, I’m not saying there’s something wrong with Rachelle’s ladies, but word is...you’re not exactly using all the fringe benefits her girls offer.”

              “How in the hell do you know that?”  Ryan thundered. 

              Zach laughed.  “Rachelle is infamous in this town.  Nice girl from the Bible belt.  Never was a good actress, though her skills on the casting couch are legendary.  In the end, she’s starred in, like over a hundred films.”

              “Madame Rachelle is Rachelle Tanner?” Ryan asked, stunned.

              “Ah, you heard of her.”  Zach took a deep gulp of his drink.

              He most certainly had.  And though he never used “
the casting couch
,” the practice was alive and well.  When Ryan finished marveling over this latest tidbit, he noted Zach still waited for an answer.

“My love life is fine.  Thank you for your concern.”

“Just hit a dry spell, eh?”

Ryan shifted again.  “Something like that.  I should cut out of here.”

“So soon?”

He glanced at his watch and stood.  “It’s 3:00 a.m.”

“Exactly.  It’s still early.”

Ryan shook his head.  “I think it’s time you went home to tucked in your wife.”  He winked.  “I’ll see you in Italy.”

“You won’t regret it.”  Zach also stood.  “Who knows?  Once you peek at what Italy has to offer, you might come back home a married man.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Never say never.”

#

“Larry, I’m waiting,” Carlina called seductively from her posh pink bedroom.

Dr. Laurence Benson cupped another hand of cold water from the bathroom sink and splashed it against his face.  In the end, it failed to temper his anger or soothe the pain of his throbbing jaw.

That’s for Joey.

Who was the famed director to Joey?  As the question floated in his mind, he wondered why the hell he cared.  Pausing, he examined his jaw and could see it swelling.

“Laarrrry,” Carlina sing-songed.

“I’m coming.”  He turned from the mirror and cut off the bathroom light.  When he strolled into the nauseatingly pink bedroom, he stopped to see his fiancée posed over plush pillows and dressed in a lacy pink peignoir. 

“I hope you like cotton candy.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he found the sex kitten didn’t successfully erase Joey Adams from his mind.

What in the hell was wrong with him?  Was it possible that he made a mistake?

“What’s the matter?” Carlina sat up with a pout.

“Nothing...I just need to make a phone call.”

She blinked.  “Now?”

He nodded absently and dug his cell phone out of his pants pocket.  “Yeah, I’ll go in the living room to make the call.”

“But--”

“It will only take a minute,” he said, and strolled out of the room.

#

Michael showed up at Joey’s front door dressed in black...which included the silk cap and combat boots.  “Let’s rock and roll.”