Page 21 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
“Uh-huh.” Rafe looks at her, unconvinced. She’s not ribbing him or meeting his eye. This is not good. When she casts a panicked look toward the bathroom, it takes all my self-control not to burst out and rescue her.
“Why are you wearing that?” Rafe points at the catsuit and boots. His eyes pan over her and don’t even linger on her rack for a moment, which is a crime. Her rack looks magnificent in that suit. But Rafe and I aren’t like that. So interesting to observe it from this angle.
“Oh, you know, for old time’s sake,” Kenna says. She takes a step and wobbles, then over-corrects, practically careening into the sink.
“So you’re totally fine with us posting an extra guard here while I’m away?” Rafe asks again. His jaw is set.
“I mean, if you think it’s necessary.” Kenna, having regained her balance, bravely takes a step toward the table. She whisks the empty iced-tea cups and cutting board into the sink and commences tidying up. First, she attempts to put away the vodka, opening the cabinet where I keep my Fruity Pebbles stash.That is not the vodka cabinet, Kenna! The vodka goes in the cabinet over the toaster.
I smack my forehead.
“You forget where you keep that?” Rafe asks. I canhearthe raised eyebrow.
“Oh yeah, you know, moving around so much,” Kenna says. She opens and closes three more cabinets before finding where I keep the alcohol.
“How much have you had to drink?” Tabitha asks.She is definitely judging.
“Ummmmm …”
Kenna looks imploringly toward the bathroom door.
In a blur, Rafe lunges across the kitchen, pulling a plastic whisk from the canister of utensils by the stove. He grabs Kenna’s wrists in one hand and twists them behind her back. With the other hand, he holds up the whisk in front of her face.
Tabitha screams.
To Kenna’s credit, she doesn’t pee herself. At least, I don’t think she peed. Hard to tell with latex.
“Ohmygod. Ohmygod. What is happening?” Tabitha is backing away with her arms up.
“Who are you?” Rafe is asking. “Where are Lorelei and the dog photographer? What have you done with them?” Rafe glances around, peeking into the living room. He looks like he’d like to slap my PA. “Tabitha! Get it together, check the bathroom.” Rafe is speaking with a full-on, menacing-sounding, Middle Eastern accent now. I have to wonder if he’s using it to sound more intimidating, or if he’s genuinely emotional at the thought of me being tied up in the bathroom.
Kenna is staring cross-eyed at the whisk, cringing.
“Do I have to check?” Tabitha asks.
“Lorelei!” Kenna squeals. “Get your ass out here—now!”
“Is that a wig?” Rafe asks. I’m riveted to the scene as he uses the tines of the plastic whisk to twirl her hair and lifts the wig off Kenna’s head. With a dramatic, Expelliarmus-esque flick, he flings it across the kitchen. It lands in the sink. I’m praying that the kitchen security camera got all that. Not that I plan to share the footage. I plan to rewatch the hell out of it, though.
“Let go of me, you asshole!” Kenna growls, and stomps on his foot with the spiky heel of the platform boot. There it is.Nowshe sounds like me.
“You’re not Lorelei!” Tabitha gasps. I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed in her. I would have bet good money that my uber-attentive PA would notice the impostor faster than my colleague.
Slow clapping, I come out of the bathroom.
“Let the poor girl go already,” I say to Rafe. “Honestly, what was your plan with that whisk there? Were you going to whip her with it till she formed hard peaks?”
I’m not sure who blushes more, Kenna or Rafe. He releases Kenna with a little push and tosses the whisk into the sink, on top of the wig. He looks pretty pissed off.
“Kenna?” Tabitha stares warily at me.
“Try again,” I say to her. She looks from me to Kenna, to me to Kenna and finally back to me as the lights come on. The only thing that would improve on her muddled reaction would be a full-on comic faint. Sadly, she remains conscious as I reopen the cabinet to offer her a stiff drink.
“No thanks,” she refuses me, primly. “I’m just going to hit the road. I’ll stop by and check in with whichever one of you is wearing the wig before I leave tomorrow.”
kenna
I really wasn’t expectingthis day to culminate with me borrowing Lorelei Dupont’s shampoo. And using it in her shower. I feel worse than foolish. Mortified. Lorelei had to come into the tiled shower stall to help peel the catsuit off me. It’s a two-man job getting out of those things.
