Ocean Beach (27 page)

Chase walked Avery into a corner of the loggia back behind the baby grand piano. It was as out of sight as one could get in a house already teeming with people and about to teem with more. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, not sounding at all happy about it. “More than gorgeous. There’s not a man here that won’t be trying to imagine getting you out of that dress. Including me.” He ran a hand through his hair. A crease of worry formed between his brows. “Do you have anything else you could put on?”

Avery wanted to laugh. Or cry. She really couldn’t decide which. She actually liked how tortured Chase looked; it made her feel strangely powerful and wonderfully desired. But she hated that the dress would give the network an opportunity to deduct more IQ points, though why people seemed to think large breasts destroyed gray matter, she didn’t know. Especially when it was clear that men often thought with their penises and bypassed their brains altogether.

“It’s too late for that,” Avery said. Besides which she didn’t want to hurt Nicole’s or even Deirdre’s feelings after they’d gone to such trouble to dress her. She drew a breath and saw Chase’s eyes grow big.

“No,” he said, drawing a breath of his own. “No deep breathing. Promise me at least that.” His eyes had turned a darker, almost navy blue. “Shit,” he said, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “Now you look like you’re…cold.”

Avery was not about to complain about the air-conditioning now that they finally had it. But under his gaze, or maybe it was the nearby vent and its spill of cool air, she felt her nipples harden.
Good grief.

“Here.” He removed his suit jacket, and before she could protest, he’d helped her into it. It fell to her knees. Her hands disappeared into the sleeves. “At least wear this.”

“This is ridiculous,” Avery said for the second time that night. “I can’t walk around in your coat all night. It’ll just draw more attention.” She didn’t want to flaunt herself, but she was beginning to realize that she didn’t want to hide, either.

“No, really,” Chase said. “I’ll never make it through this party if you…”

She leaned forward slightly so that her hands could reach the pockets. Her fingertips brushed against a folded piece of paper. Eager to change the subject, she drew it out. “What’s this?”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” He managed to raise his gaze to meet hers. “It’s a reservation for two nights at the Clevelander Hotel, it’s one of the Deco hotels over on Ocean Drive.”

“Are you sure?” Avery asked, his last visit and their inability to find a bed to share still fresh in her mind. “Did you double-confirm it?”

The noise level began to escalate. The front doorbell continued to chime.

“I didn’t have to,” Chase said. “Deirdre got us the reservation through a contact there.”

Surprised, Avery shrugged out of his jacket and handed it back to him, ignoring the strangled groan that left his lips. “That’s funny, she didn’t mention it to me.”

“She was probably afraid you’d turn it down.” Chase
slipped the paper back into his coat pocket. “You haven’t exactly been receptive to any of her overtures.”

“That’s true,” Avery conceded. But she felt a strange little glow of satisfaction at the gift. “Are you all right now?” she asked Chase in a teasing tone as he put his jacket back on. “Ready to man up?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said with a glint of his normal humor returning. “But the only thing that’s going to get me through the party is this reservation.” He leaned down and kissed her. Together they stepped out of their corner and into the party.

Lisa Hogan came up to them in a black cocktail dress that bared one shoulder and skyscraper heels that she didn’t need, but that she had no trouble walking in. Her eyes glinted like shards of colored glass. She greeted Chase with what looked like a genuine smile, perhaps because he was a part of the show but not beholden to her. Or maybe just because he was a good-looking man.

“It looks like we’re going to have a big turnout,” she said, looking Avery up and down. “I’m glad to see you finally dressing in a way that highlights your attributes. This is, after all, a business that relies on ratings.”

Avery’s jaw set as the network head turned and walked toward the fireplace, where Maddie and her husband stood. Chase growled softly, a low, angry sound.

“Yeah,” Avery said. “I’m getting really tired of having to be so careful about how they perceive me. Is one night of cleavage really going to be the end of me?”

“It could definitely be the end of me,” Chase said. But he said it with a smile and was looking her straight in the eye. “Just give me the sign and the jacket’s yours. I’m going to go check on my dad and the boys.”

People poured through the front door and into the circular foyer, oohing and aahing as they came. Through a back living room window she could see others out around the pool, mingling happily. Waiters passed through the rooms with trays of hors d’oeuvres held aloft.

Deirdre practically floated up to her. She wore a sleek white strapless dress that complemented her pale skin and fine blond hair. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I do believe it’s showtime.” She smiled and Avery realized that Deirdre wasn’t just fulfilling an obligation, she was enjoying herself. “That’s Carl Owen from World of Windows over there.” She pointed to a round, darkly tanned man with a blinding smile. “And that’s Lori Bakkum and Nate Miller.” She motioned toward a friendly-looking blond woman and a young man with a shaved head and an impish grin. “They’re ‘pillar members’ of the Miami Design Preservation League and are also Realtors. Their firm, Retro Home Miami, specializes in important Deco properties.” Deirdre waved and sent them a smile of welcome. “I’d like you to give them a personal tour.”

“Aye, aye,” Avery said with a mock salute.

“And stand up straight,” Deirdre added firmly but quietly. “You shouldn’t have to be afraid of consulting with Chase or anyone else. And you should never be ashamed of having a figure that others have paid fortunes to imitate. Breasts are not a punishment. They’re a gift.”

“Yeah, thanks, Moth—” Avery began sarcastically, barely stopping herself before the whole word left her mouth. She looked quickly to see if Deirdre had noticed. Avery hadn’t used the word since Deirdre had deserted them; she’d barely let herself think it.

“And, um, thanks for the hotel room. And for not giving
me shit about the chandelier.” She looked away to where Maddie and Steve stood, not wanting to give away just how much she appreciated the gesture. She saw Maddie’s smile freeze briefly as Mario Dante spotted her and altered his course, heading toward her and Steve.

“You’re welcome,” Deirdre said. “I hope you enjoy yourselves.” She looked up when the room’s big-screen TVs flickered to life with images of Max and Millie onstage at the Fontainebleau Hotel.

“Oh, good.” Deirdre looked down at her watch. “We’re right on schedule. There’s a bar right over there.” She nodded toward the opposite corner of the living room. “And one out by the pool. I suggest you grab a drink and then introduce yourself to Lori and Nate.” She gave Avery another hug. It felt only slightly less awkward than the first. “I’m going to have a quick word with Nicole and Lisa Hogan about the network’s stance on screen time. I think I saw Nikki in the dining room with Giraldi a few minutes ago.” Her brow furrowed. “I do hope that other man who was looking for her is a potential sponsor.”

Nicole was no longer sure what Parker Amherst IV actually wanted or why he had bothered to come to the party. He certainly didn’t seem to be enjoying himself, and despite joining a tour she’d given to several potential sponsors, he’d shown little interest in The Millicent and barely glanced at anything but her.

Her attempts to draw him into conversation with Deirdre and the others had garnered a smile that looked more like a grimace. His eyes remained frosty. Even when talking to someone taller than himself, not that he was doing a whole lot of that, he managed to make it appear as if he were looking down his nose at them. She knew from his acquaintance with Bitsy Baynard that he must be used to moving in fairly exalted circles, yet a less socially adept individual would’ve been hard to find.

Not even Max, at his warmest, smiling best, elicited more than a stiff smile and a grudging nod.

“So what does he want from you?” Giraldi asked when he returned from the bar with drinks in hand and found her watching a nearby group that Deirdre had drawn Amherst into. Despite their less-than-simpatico introduction, Deirdre too seemed unwilling to give up on the financial potential of Amherst’s Roman numeral.

“I mean, the guy is downright squirrelly,” Giraldi said as he contemplated Amherst through the same eyes that had once weighed Nicole’s guilt and innocence.

“Well…” Nikki hedged, wishing she hadn’t noticed the frayed collar of Amherst’s tailor-made suit jacket and the lack of shine on his thousand-dollar Edward Greens. “It’s been my experience that people from privileged backgrounds often aren’t required to develop social skills in the same way the rest of us do. Kind of like how really beautiful women can make it through life without a personality or a sense of humor.”

Lord knew she’d had to teach herself everything from basic etiquette to how to dress and make conversation. When your mother worked two jobs to keep even a leaky roof over your head, you appreciated everything she did for you, but you didn’t expect her to teach you how to move in the first tiers of society. Both she and Malcolm had turned to magazines and movies as well as the important newspapers’ society columns to create their personas—and their fictional backgrounds.

She looked up at the nearby television screen and saw the black-and-white footage of Max and Millie, their backs to each other as each played to the audience. She couldn’t hear their audio over the hum of conversation, but you didn’t need it to see the completeness of the couple’s
connection. Nicole had never been that connected to anyone except Malcolm, and that bond had turned out to be excruciatingly one-sided.

Giraldi gave her one of his steely-eyed looks to which she wasn’t sure how to respond. Parker Amherst was not the sort of client she would normally have pursued, or even accepted. But there was nothing normal about her current circumstances and she did not want to discuss her desperation with Giraldi. Or admit that she wasn’t even sure she could sign a client she didn’t really want.

“I’m sorry,” she said, meeting Giraldi’s gaze. “I need to go thank John Hendricks for our air-conditioning and do my best to talk a few others into signing on.”

“Sure.” He nodded amiably as they parted. A few moments later she spotted him with Chase and Jeff Hardin over near the pool house. The next time she checked, Maddie’s husband Steve had joined them.

The crowd grew and the buzz of voices rose. A group of elderly men Max introduced as his pinochle buddies huddled near the pool bar. Nikki kept an eye out for Amherst and noticed that although he seemed to make no overtures, he ended up in various conversational groups. Every once in a while she’d feel someone’s gaze on her and turn, expecting to see Joe, only to find Amherst watching her.

She was standing with John Hendricks when the video of Max and Millie dissolved into a shot of Deirdre, blond hair piled high on her head and resplendent in a white strapless gown, standing in front of a microphone that had been placed near the baby grand piano. Her voice boomed over the televisions that had been mounted throughout The Millicent as she invited everyone to get some food and drink and find a spot near one of the screens. “In the meantime,”
she continued, “I’d like to introduce you to some of our sponsors.” A Hendricks Heat & Air logo appeared and The Millicent’s current residents applauded wildly. Next came Dante Fine Artisans, with a family picture of Mario and sons in front of The Millicent and one of Mario and assorted family members waving from The Millicent’s roof. Shots of the Randolph Plumbing van and a close-up of the East Coast Electric monogram on Ted Darnell’s work-shirt pocket came next.

“There’s still time to say yes,” Deirdre said on-screen. “You and your company can be a part of this exciting project and be seen on national television weekly.” Her smile turned saucy. “Don’t make me chase you down and wrestle you to the ground.”

There was laughter and then Lisa Hogan stepped forward to take Deirdre’s place at the microphone. Showing a warmth she had not yet demonstrated in more personal conversations, she introduced video clips of the cast and crew. As each of their faces loomed larger than Nikki would have liked, a voice-over described their backgrounds and how Malcolm Dyer’s Ponzi scheme had rocked their worlds and left them with nothing but co-ownership of the dilapidated Bella Flora.

Nicole kept her chin high and did her best to hide her dismay. If anyone in the house—or on the planet—had been unaware that Malcolm Dyer was her brother, they knew it now. And that included Parker Amherst IV.

The shot of Bella Flora dissolved into an exterior of The Millicent. The angle changed and Max Golden drove into frame in the turquoise Cadillac convertible and pulled into the drive. In the next shot he leaned against it, his arms folded across his chest, his face lit with a smile.