LA Misbehaved - Complete (Married A Stripper Book 2) Page 4

  The next clutch of people had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with money. As soon as she introduced me, Sondra launched into a talk about the rehab facility I had planned, and it gave me a moment to take a look around at the group, not that I really needed it.

  They were all old money. I didn’t need her to tell me that. I knew old money.

  I definitely didn’t fit in that class, but Hollywood was a lot more accommodating about such things than most places. Philadelphia, however, wasn’t anything like back home.

  After Sondra finally introduced me, one of the women made a sighing sound. “Your father broke so many hearts when he married your mother, mine included.”

  I gave her a polite nod and managed a small smile. “I’ve heard that quite often, Mrs. Branch.”

  It was a familiar sentiment, and it led to more of the same. Familiar ground, I was able to respond to the curious questions, and evade the ones I didn’t care to answer with ease.

  After the typical small talk had been exchanged, Odelle Branch, the one who’d apparently had her heart broken by my father, turned curious eyes on me. “Why is the son of one of the greatest actors in modern cinema setting up a rehab facility?”

  “Lost friends, no doubt.” It was a churlish response from a woman whose name hadn’t been offered. She gave me a look out of rheumy eyes and sniffed. “You know how it is with young ones who choose the high life. No discipline. No morals.”

  “I know how it is to lose somebody I love,” I responded calmly. I’d dealt with enough petty or lonely people in my life to know how to handle them. They liked striking out. I didn’t bother giving them something to push back about, but that didn’t mean I wanted to continue this conversation.

  Shifting my attention back to Sondra, I said, “I’m going to go find something to eat.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  I repressed a sigh. I’d been hoping to find some peace and quiet, but it looked like that wouldn’t be the case.

  On our way to the room where food was spread out, Sondra kept waving and pointing out everybody she thought I just had to know. There was a damn lot of people I’d managed to go without knowing for almost three decades.

  The sarcastic thought managed to tug a smile out of me, but it faded when Sondra tugged me down and whispered, “See… I knew you could have fun. You’re loosening up. Let’s get you a cocktail and see if we can get another smile.”

  Separating myself from her two cocktails later – both of them hers. She ended up disappearing into the bathroom after snagging somebody female to help her, and I took advantage of it, moving to the nearest door and heading outside.

  I went for the fresh air, but the grounds were amazing. One thing a city like Philadelphia had that California would never possess was the stately old elegance of homes like these.

  Settling on a bench in a far corner of the garden, I sat down and settled back to admire the house. Ivy twined up the sides, and the windows beckoned with a warm golden glow. It was the sort of place that wasn’t just a house, but a home.

  Somewhere close by, I heard somebody laughing, then a moment later, the sound faded.

  Good.

  I wasn’t in the mood to make nice anymore. Or at least not for a while.

  I looked down and realized I was still holding the black silk mask I’d been given when I came inside. Rubbing it between my fingers, I wondered what Layla would have thought about a masquerade party at a place like this.

  She’d always enjoyed…fun.

  “Too much,” I reminded myself.

  Cramming the mask into my pocket, I got up and wandered into the garden.

  Sooner or later, I’d have to go back in there, and I wasn’t much looking forward to it. Sooner or later, I’d have to talk to people. People who would want to know my reasons for opening this particular type of clinic.

  What will you do when you have to talk about me…?

  I silenced that ghostly little voice and lifted my face to the sky.

  It was a beautiful night. Too bad I had to spend it surrounded by people I didn’t know, pushing for help to get through shitty bureaucracy so I could focus on the one thing I really enjoyed doing.

  “Might as well get it over with.”

  I turned back to the house.

  And again, I heard the ghost of a voice.

  You don’t enjoy this. You need this. There is a difference, baby.

  I ignored it. Denied it. Told myself that the noise and chaos, the desire to keep busy, was all a necessary evil. I didn’t want it or need it.

  But the truth of it was…I did.

  I had nothing to do and nobody to talk to. And when my mind had nothing to occupy it, I was outright miserable.

  6

  Astra

  “Aren’t you looking lovely this evening, Miss Traore. Ariel?”

  I grinned at Miles as he stepped aside to hold the door open for me.

  I didn’t get out to the estate where Piety had grown up with her parents, but I remembered the butler quite well. He used to sneak us butterscotch cookies and vanilla steamers when we hid out in Piety’s treehouse.

  “Good guess.”

  “Well.” His eyes moved to the utensil in my left hand. “You are carrying a fork. And it was always your favorite movie when you were younger. I believe I heard it in my sleep for nearly a year.”

  I hugged him and smacked a loud kiss on his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Then come visit more often,” he replied simply.

  Hearing somebody behind me, I caught my mermaid tail of a skirt and stepped forward. Or rather, I tried.

  I ended up pitching against Miles, and he steadied me, but not before both of us heard the loud ripppppp.

  “Oh, shit.” I closed my eyes.

  As Miles eased me back onto my feet, whoever was behind me just kept on going.

  Without thinking, I shouted, “Thanks, you asshat! You made me rip my skirt!”

  The man paused and looked back, already smirking. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, but I just gave him a withering look as I turned to focus on my skirt.

  “It’s easy enough to mend, Miss Traore,” Miles said. “I’ll get a sewing kit and have you fixed up in a jiffy.”

  He reached up and tapped his earpiece as the asshat who’d trampled on my skirt started back toward us. I didn’t even need to wait for him to open his mouth to know that he was about to hit on me.

  I gave the jerk a withering look. “Don’t waste your time trying to apologize. Do you have any idea how much work I put into this costume?”

  “You still look stunning,” the stranger said with a grin.

  I pointed the fork at him and didn’t smile back. “Go away.” Turning to Miles, I cocked my head. “I’ll wait in the office.”

  I used the loop on my hand to tug my skirt up. A sequined scallop remained on the ground, and I looked up to see my would-be admirer still hovering.

  Miles coughed to cover up his chuckle as he bent to pick up the mangled part of my costume’s tail. He tucked it into my hand and stepped in front of me, giving me a chance to move away with some dignity. Or at least as much dignity as a twenty-three-year-old dressed as a mermaid could have.

  “Sir, if I may… I don’t believe now is a good time to socialize with the lady. She’s somewhat hot-tempered and might well stab you with that fork.”

  I disappeared around the corner as the guy started to laugh.

  I paused to hear Miles’ response. “You think I’m joking. I assure you, I’m not. Trust me, you would not want to be forced to explain to a doctor why a lady felt the need to impale you with a kitchen utensil.”

  I made a mental note to send Miles a bottle of his favorite pinot noir for Christmas. Two, since he’d managed to say it all without laughing.

  I started walking again, still fuming despite my momentary amusement. I couldn’t believe the jerk had torn my tail. I’d spent forever working on this mermaid costume, and he’d gone and messed part
of it up before I even had a chance to show Piety.

  Sighing, I took another hall, nodding at the security personnel monitoring it. They’d been working at Van Allen events for years. We weren’t friends, but we smiled and joked whenever we happened to see each other.

  “I have to go mend my skirt,” I announced with a regal tone. “Some toad stepped on it.”

  “You need an escort, little mermaid,” the one on the left said, winking at me. “I’d offer, but I’m already tied up for the night.”

  “Your boyfriend would kill us both.” Laughing, I waved and continued on down to the office Congressman Silas Van Allen used when he wasn’t working in Washington.

  Shutting the door behind me, I made my way over to the desk and went to grab the tail.

  Immediately, several problems presented themselves.

  Part of my costume was a nude-tone underbust corset. While an underbust was nowhere near as constrictive on movement as a full-length corset, it definitely didn’t give to bending and twisting. Also, there was another scalloped edge of the tail that had been ripped off.

  “Hell.” Catching sight of my reflection in the darkened window, I said, “This is going to be fun.”

  I went over and caught the cord, drawing the drapes then moved back to the desk. I wasn’t giving a show to anyone who happened by. I didn’t think Miles would be too pleased if I flashed my tits at him either, but I still had on a bra – with sea-shells attached. Appliqued, of course. Real seashells couldn’t be comfortable.

  I was only halfway finished unlacing myself from the corset when Miles knocked.

  “Come on in,” I shouted.

  He caught sight of me as soon as he opened the door, eyebrows shooting up.

  Seeing the humor spark in his eyes, I said, “You try wearing a corset.”

  “I think I’ll pass, Miss Traore.” He approached and put the sewing kit on the edge of the desk. “Do you need help?”

  “No.” I shooed him off in the direction of the door. “I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do with the party going. The event planner has been praising your name. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to steal you away.”

  At that, his cheeks went pink, and he coughed into his hand. “Yes, well...I’ll be going now.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You…she offered you a job, didn’t she?”

  “Of course not. That would be most unprofessional.” But he didn’t look in my direction as he closed the door on the sound of my laughter.

  “Scheming event planner,” I muttered as I wrestled the underbust the rest of the way off. I dumped it on the desk and eyed the kit. Then I turned and went to the drink service on the other side of the room.

  I was supposed to be chowing down on canapes and sipping champagne, talking up donors and dancing, not fixing a tail I’d already spent probably eighty hours on. Some rich kids would simply buy a costume or have one made for them by a professional. Not me. I’d always loved making my own.

  But I’d definitely learned one thing.

  “I will never hand-sew crystals on like this again. Never.” Splashing some bourbon into a glass, I took a sip and tipped my head back, trying to ease the tense muscles in my neck as the liquor burned a hot, smooth path down my throat.

  After a few more sips, I topped myself off and returned to the desk with a sigh.

  The zipper and the waistband were one of the main reasons I’d decided to wear the corset. Things like waistbands and zippers needed more patience than I had. Well, they were boring, mostly. I’d be fine with the crystals because I’d played with the patterns doing them, but there’s nothing fun or interesting about the other construction. So I’d rushed both of them, and they looked a bit messier than I wanted.

  The underbust covered the area on the top where the zipper got messy, and it completely hid the awful waistband.

  Biting the tip of my tongue, I eased the zipper down. “Thank you,” I whispered as it held.

  Stepping out of my mermaid skirt, I stood in the middle of the room, wearing my shell-bra and nude panties, studying the damage to my skirt-tail.

  “Not too bad.” Still irritated, I went behind the desk and laid the skirt down, then put the scallop into place, smoothing the other torn one down as well.

  Once I was happy with how they looked, I flipped open Miles’ sewing kit.

  “Dude,” I muttered. It was like a MacGyver kit for seamstresses.

  I could have practically made a costume with everything in there. The creative little brat in me was tempted to sit down in the corner and see what all I could do with the ribbons and doo-dads, but I had work to do, so I selected thread that was nearly identical to my skirt and got a needle.

  I was in the process of threading it when my phone rang.

  Forced to dig it out of the small pocket I’d worked into the design of the skirt, I barely got it before the call went to voice mail. “Hey!”

  Piety’s voice was all but lost in the roar.

  “Where are you?” she demanded. “If you’re flaking out on me…”

  “I’m in your dad’s office. Chill out.” Putting the phone back down, I put the call on speaker and went back to threading the needle.

  “Why are you in my dad’s office?”

  With one scalloped tail fin in hand, I got to work. “I’m having a quickie with Miles. You know how crazy I am about him.”

  “You’re so damn crazy.” She laughed. “But even if I were to believe the two of you were going for a May/December thing, Miles is in here, dealing with a minor catastrophe.”

  “What catastrophe is that?” Knowing the kind of people who showed up at parties, it could be anything from the ludicrous to the borderline career-ruining.

  “One of the staffers who used to work for my dad has apparently been sleeping with the rep she now works for. The rep’s wife got suspicious. Wife ordered a mai-tai at the bar and threw it the staffer’s face – and the staffer is allergic to just about every tropical fruit known to man. She’s having a crazy reaction. My mom and dad had to escort the rep and his wife to another room.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Rolling my eyes, I paused a moment as I thought that through. “Did the wife know the woman was allergic?”

  “Yep. They worked together on campaigns before, it sounds like. So it was intentional. Miles just gave her a shot from an epi-pen in our first aid kit. Those are–”

  “My mom has one,” I interrupted. Mom had an allergy to shellfish. And here I was dressed up as a mermaid with a shell-bra.

  A psychologist would have a field day with that, I knew.

  “She going to be okay?” I asked.

  “I think so. I called the ambulance before I called you and one of the catering staff is outside to bring them in. But you’re missing all the fun drama. So I ask again, why are you in my dad’s office? And don’t tell me you’re having a quickie with my dad. I’m not in the mood for that kind of joke.”

  “Very funny. I’ll have you know that Miles is the only silver fox who’ll ever steal my heart.” Huffing out a breath, I feigned mock indignation as I finished fixing my fin.

  “I don’t know if you’d ever let anybody steal your heart, darling. You don’t trust anyone enough.”

  “Only you, PS.” I sighed. “Anyway, I was just coming inside and stopped to talk to Miles. Some jackass stepped on part of my costume, and it ripped. I’m in here fixing it.”

  “It ripped,” she said slowly.

  “Yep.”

  Seconds ticked by, quiet save for the cacophony raging around Piety and echoing through on my end of the phone. After a few more moments, she cleared her throat and asked, “Were you naked? I’m almost positive Miles loves you enough that he would have covered that up.”

  “No.” I laughed, delighted at the thought. Nothing scandalized Miles, but I knew he loved me and could totally see him covering my ass – literally and figuratively – if my costume had totally ripped off. “Enough of a tear that I needed to fix it, but not so mu
ch that it couldn’t be mended.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She sounded relieved.

  “Afraid that me parading around in panties and my bra might be bad press?” I teased. “You’re turning into a stick in the mud, PS.”

  “Bite me,” she said dryly. “And hurry up, okay?”

  She didn’t wait for a response, and as the call disconnected, I settled back in the seat and continued to sew. I wasn’t about to hurry this any more than I’d normally do.

  The silence of the room was lessened only slightly by the muted noise of the party. I could smell the food though, and I was starving. That might have hurried me up, but I didn’t let it. The tail fin that had been ripped off had actual rips in it, too, as well as a dirty scuff mark from a shoe.

  “Asshat,” I muttered.

  After pinning the tail in place, I held the skirt up as best as I could to see how it would lay once I was wearing it. And the stupid scuff mark was completely visible.

  “Dammit!”

  The bathroom attached to Silas’ office was small, but thanks to a hanger I found on the back door, I was able to hang the skirt up. I set about dabbing at the dirt mark with a damp rag, breathing out a sigh of relief as it slowly started to come up.

  Ten more minutes of that, and it was finally almost invisible.

  Another ten minutes and I managed to secure the tail fin back into place. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t pretty, but the small, irregular seams wouldn’t stand out unless somebody got down on their knees and started inspecting each fin one by one. I didn’t exactly plan on making people start kneeling at my feet, so I figured I was good.

  “Finally.”

  Putting the skirt down on the desk, I reached for my drink and tossed the rest of it back. Just as I lowered the glass, I heard a noise.

  The door.

  “Piety, for crying out loud, I’m almost done.”

  A few seconds passed.

  Then there was the sound of a throat being cleared.