Page 5 of Two Hearts' Ploy

For some reason, Grant grinned. “I’d be happy to, Ms. Matthews. Good luck tonight with your final performance. We’re all going to miss working for you. It’s been a blast.”

“Thanks, Grant. You guys have been great to work with too. I really appreciate your patience with me.”

He winked. “You’re not like some of the others we’ve worked for. You’renice.”

She snorted. “Well, don’t spread the word.”

Grant chuckled, yanking a reluctant Vin through the doorway.

At that moment her stylist Samantha arrived, along with Robin, who was Wren’s makeup artist.

With a wide sweep of her arm, Wren motioned them inside. “Come on in, ladies.”

Once Wren was settled in her seat in front of the dressing table mirror, Robin started applying a light spray of foundation over Wren’s face while Samantha got busy numbering items for her wardrobe changes throughout the night.

“Robin, you’re one of the best makeup artists I’ve ever used. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Wren admitted. “Even with the vanity lighting, my face still looks so natural. Yet somehow, my features stand out when I view the tapes of my performances.”

Robin looked pleased. It was kind of hard to figure her out, because sometimes, she appeared sullen. But there had always been a look of yearning in her eyes. Maybe she’d come to California to do something totally different than what she was doing now but hadn’t had success. She’d always looked strangely familiar to Wren. She was usually pretty closed mouthed about herself. It could be she was related to someone famous, which was somewhat common for even the people who worked for performers behind the scenes.

“My choices for you have a lot to do with your wardrobe,” Robin admitted. “I try to coordinate colors but go bold with your eyes, lips and highlights, while giving you a little lighter skin tone.”

“Did you have to go to school to learn?” Wren asked, definitely curious as Robin continued with the next step, lining the outline of her mouth before she would carefully fill in. Robin had been with her off and on for the past four years, while Samantha had worked with Wren even longer.

“Here in LA. But then I was lucky enough to work as an assistant to someone who was pretty big in the field.”

“Well, what you do for me is amazing. And Samantha, I greatly appreciate everything you do too. It’s been a great run,” Wren admitted.

“It has, hasn’t it?” Samantha agreed, smiling.

Hopefully, the hefty bonuses that they’d receive after Wren’s performance would mean they’d return to work during the next tour in November.

* * *

Despite the emotional rollercoaster she’d been cruising along on earlier in the dressing room, Wren basked in applause from the crowd another three and a half hours later. She’d lost track of how many minutes she’d been standing there, after performing two additional songs.

There were vases of flowers placed throughout the dressing room once she returned, so she started reading through the cards, smiling.

But then she frowned, spotting one of the little black envelopes she’d been receiving sporadically throughout the years.

Yanking it from where it was attached to the arrangement of nearly black roses, she’d just placed the envelope on her dressing table when her cell phone began to ring.

Noticing it was Marc, she switched it on. Transferring to speaker, Wren rested the phone back down as she began to change into street clothes. She’d return to the theatre tomorrow to pack up her personal stuff before her wardrobe people arrived for her clothing.

“What’s happening, Marc?” she asked, quickly tugging on jeans beneath her gown.

“There’s been a break in at your beach house, Wren.”

She paused, closing her eyes before heaving a sigh. “You don’t mean…?”

“Yeah, it had to be Vin, alright. You set a pretty effective trap, having all the security installed as soon as the guys saw him leave this morning.” Marc cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to say, not without company.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Marc. Although I’ll probably never be able to see that place for what it’s always meant to be—my retreat,” she admitted.

“How did he get access to all your codes in the first place? He’s never been there, has he?”

“Nope. Not with my permission. I do need to discover how much of my personal information he’s accessed though. I’ll have to talk to my investment manager, although I think that’s all secure. I don’t even withdraw money from my checking or use credit cards without sending coded authorizations. That’s one thing Vin wouldn’t know.”

“Well, I can look into the security end if you want to get someone in on the personal side of an investigation.”

---