Page 64 of Just Friends Forever
Malibu. The place where people don’t bat an eye at a $10 million price tag. I can’t even comprehend the commission on that sort of property.
This is it. This is my door into the luxury real estate market, and Stevie just flung it wide open.
She pulls out her phone and taps the screen. The music for the Carlton dance comes on, and I start dancing like a programmedFresh Princezombie, except I’m grinning from ear to ear.
I make my way toward her, my arms swinging from side to side, and pull her up to a stand. She’s smiling as widely as I am, and even though I’ve never seen her do the dance, she joins in for once. We face each other, smiling and flailing like fools until I start losing my breath.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you, Stevie.” I pull her into a hug.
“You’re welcome,” she says into my shoulder. “You deserve it.” She pulls back and looks at me. “Word to the wise: if I know Rocco, he’ll make you work hard.”
I put up my hand like I’m swearing on the Bible. “I will mop his floors with my shirt.” There is nothing I wouldn’t do to have this client.
* * *
It’s 4 o’clock,and I just got off the phone with Rocco. He talked my ear off for a good half hour, while I took feverish notes on a legal pad. He was talking into his car’s phone system, which can provide less-than-stellar audio even on the best days. Add in him driving his convertible on the Pacific Coast Highway, and it was all I could do to piece together certain sentences.
I figure the call was my audition, and based on how we ended the conversation, I seem to have passed.
But now my brain hurts. I set down my pen and lean back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my face. I still can’t believe I’ll be helping Rocco Sterling buy his next mansion.
At least one of my dreams is being fulfilled.
My phone buzzes, and a text pops onto the screen.
Tori
Um…what?
Linked in the text below is a headline:The girlfriend that wasn’t—Carr and her “friend” might be more after all
My breath starts coming quickly, and I scroll down enough to see the first line of the story.
The connection between recently divorced Stephanie Carr and longtime “friend” Troy Sheppard is growing more suspect asGossip Gazettereceived reports from someone closely involved that Mr. Sheppard and his purported girlfriend broke up shortly after Mrs. Carr’s arrival. Perhapsbecauseof her arrival?
Before I can continue, my phone buzzes again, this time with a call. It’s Lyla.
I blow a breath through my lips and answer it. “Hey, Lyla.”
“Hey.” There’s a quick pause. “Um, did you not tell anyone we broke up?”
I clench my teeth. Clearly, she saw the story. “I… didn’t.”
There’s a pause. “Well, that explains a lot. I know you’re not into celebrity gossip, but have you by chance seenGossip Gazettetoday?”
“My sister just texted me the link. I’ve only read the first couple of lines.” I frown, remembering the wording.Received reports from someone closely involved.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Lyla asks.
I rub my forehead. “It’s kind of complicated. I intended to, really, it just… things with the paparazzi got out of hand, and I didn’t want to add fuel to the speculation about Stevie and me by letting them know I didn’t have a girlfriend.”
“I wasn’t ever your girlfriend, Troy.”
“Right. I know that. I—” I cut myself off. Taking the easy way out of describing the relationship between Lyla and me is really coming back to bite me in the butt. Unfortunately, I amnota wombat with a steel derriere, so it’s going to be painful. “Look, I’m really sorry, Lyla. I didn’t mean to get you involved in this.”
“It’s okay. It’s my fault anyway, right? I was the one who told Tina in the first place.” She sighs. “I called her when I saw the story this morning, and she said she was contacted by the press again yesterday. When they asked her about us, she told them we weren’t together anymore. She didn’t think it would be a big deal because it was true. Anyway, I just called to warn you, but sounds like you knew anyway.”
“Thanks,” I say pathetically. “I appreciate it. And again, I’m really sorry.” I feel like the biggest idiot.
