Craving Perfect (16 page)

I drove over the speed limit the whole way till Elena and I reached the Desert Java. Elena insisted on coming with me. She didn’t talk much during the drive and that was probably wise. Normally I was calm and rarely rattled, but this was different.

Grace was missing and no one knew where she was, least of all Eddie, the last guy to see her.

She hadn’t been answering her cell, and when I found Kathryn, she was seated next to Eddie in the Desert Java kitchen, crying into her hands. Someone had turned on all the lights and the café looked stark and unfriendly, so different than it had a couple hours earlier. Fear choked the air.

My whole body was on fire. If only I had insisted on staying, if only I hadn’t ignored my instincts. If I hadn’t left, Grace would be with me. I should have known better than to leave her with Eddie.

“What happened after I left?” I asked Eddie, fighting to keep calm as I stood over him.

His words slurred less than before. He kept blinking though, like he was fighting to stay awake. “We talked.” He licked his lips. “We argued.” He paused, embarrassed. “And then she stormed out.” He nodded to the front door. “I’m sorry, Carlos. I didn’t mean to make her so angry.”

“Why did she leave? What did you say?”

Kathryn lifted her head. Her eyes met Eddie’s. “This is my fault, not Eddie’s. I shouldn’t have ignored her all week. Then Eddie wouldn’t have acted this way. I should have said something to her. And I shouldn’t have said some of the things I did.” Her face crumpled with guilt. Her lips began to quiver again.

I dragged my free hand through my hair. It angered me that a single word had been said to upset Grace. What little composure I had began to fade.

“We’re wasting time sitting here.” I paused to draw a breath. “We should be out looking for her.”

“Carlos is right,” Elena said quietly. “We need to start looking for her. It’s late. But she couldn’t have gone very far.” Her tone was hopeful, but that was like her.

“Where could she be?” Kathryn’s voice rose another octave. “She’s here.” Her hand waved about the kitchen. “She’s always here. It’s not like her to leave in the middle of the night. Ever.”

The bell over the front door jingled. Everybody turned.

“
Hola
, Carlos,” my uncle Mario said, entering the kitchen.

“
Hola
,
Tío
,” I said.

Behind Uncle Mario, six of my cousins filled the kitchen. There were probably another twelve men outside, waiting. I made one call to Uncle Mario about Grace before I left home. Without so much as a single question,
mi familia
had gathered to help find her.

“Carlos,” Kathryn stood, surprised. She shook her head at the army of men in her café, speechless.

“What’s the plan?” Uncle Mario said. “Where do we start?”

“First of all, she drives a yellow Volkswagen. Can’t be too many of them on the roads right now.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Kathryn said.

“They won’t do anything for at least twenty-four hours,” I said. “But it wouldn’t hurt to tell them.” My eyes locked onto Eddie’s.

“I’m on it.” Eddie rose as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and walked to the other side of the room.

“What about friends?” I asked Kathryn.

Kathryn’s voice got smaller again. “She knows a lot of people, working here. But they’re more like acquaintances.” Her voice cracked again. “I’ve always been her best friend.”

I drew back a breath. “What about old boyfriends?”

Kathryn shook her head. “You’re the first person she’s dated in a very long time.”

My throat tightened. Any other time, I would have been delighted by this news. Tonight, it only tugged at my chest. “What about family? Any other place or person she would visit?” My tone was doubtful, remembering the scattered family Grace described at dinner. But I felt compelled to ask. Maybe she’d forgotten to mention somebody.

Kathryn shook her head. She bit her lip and then said, “Our parents are dead. There’s no one…” Her voice shook. “She’s just got me.”

Elena left my side to sit beside Kathryn. She put her arm across Kathryn’s shoulders and I thought Kathryn was going to start crying again.

“When was the last time you tried her cell?” I asked.

“Just before you got here. It keeps going to voicemail.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t want to be found,” Eddie said from across the room.

I glared at him and his teeth clamped shut. Then I turned to Uncle Mario and my cousins. “What if we fan out across Tempe in all directions, begin by looking for her car.”

“We’ve got to start somewhere,” Uncle Mario agreed. He lifted his cell phone. “Anybody sees anything? You call me. Then I’ll call Carlos.” Then he turned to me and managed a smile. “Don’t worry. She couldn’t have gotten very far. And a yellow Volkswagen is easy to find. Probably just has a flat tire somewhere. We’ll find her.”

I wanted to believe him but the fact that she wasn’t answering her cell phone worried me the most. As much as I hated to admit it, Grace sounded like someone who didn’t want to be found.

But I refused to believe it.

My days of waiting to get inside a trendy nightclub were over. I was officially part of the in-crowd.

Max and I breezed right through the velvet ropes and burly bouncers outside
Chocolat
as if we owned the place. The bouncer even smiled at me as we passed.

Smiled!

Like I was royalty or something.

Chocolat
seemed like the kind of place Max and I would frequent often, the place for people with plenty of money and access to a perfect gene pool. That didn’t mean it wasn’t going to take some getting used to.

Hardwood floors, mahogany tables, brushed nickel hardware, soft lighting, private leather booths and gorgeous customers,
Chocolat
was by far the coolest bar I’d ever been to. If
Chocolat
had ever lost electricity, the blinding whites of everyone’s teeth could have illuminated the entire room for at least twelve hours.

Then there was the artwork.

Clever
.

Framed photographs of chocolate—dark, white, mocha, even chocolate with walnuts—adorned the dark walls, despite the fact that none of the customers, including the servers, looked like they consumed more than five hundred calories a day. The artwork, in my opinion, was just plain cruel. Look but don’t touch.

Once inside, Max and I followed behind a platinum blonde woman with gorgeous legs who Max called Shelley. She led us to a private corner booth.

I had a feeling we’d been inside this booth before too.

“The usual, Miss Collins?” Shelley asked as she removed the brass
Reserved
sign from our table.

“Um…sssure?” I stammered. I’d just hoped that my usual didn’t include anything with a maraschino cherry or gin.

“And for me, too,” Max added with a helpful wink as he draped his arm behind me along the top of the booth before he looked around the bar, almost as if waiting for people to notice us.

There might as well have been a spotlight. Our booth was the perfect lookout spot for the entire bar. We could have been a Christmas display window.

Shelley pursed her red lips before she turned to leave, presumably to fetch our drinks.

“Oh, did you want to order an appetizer?” Max whispered as Shelley sashayed away.

Before answering, I turned and scanned the bar. There wasn’t a basket of chips, a buffet line, or even a tiny bowl of green olives anywhere.

No one eats.

Instead, everyone sipped colorful, undoubtedly expensive martinis. Other than the artwork, there wasn’t a morsel of food anywhere. My stomach growled with frustration.

“Is it…is it allowed?” I turned back to Max who narrowed his eyes at the stupidity of my question.

“Is what allowed?” he asked anyway.

“Eating?”

But then he sighed. “Of course it is. I’m sure they can whip up something.” Although he didn’t sound optimistic.

Another stomach growl.

“Besides,” he continued. “I brought a little something special for later…” He reached into his pants pocket and then opened his palm so that only I could see. A square baggy about the size of a postage stamp sat in his hand. It looked like powdered sugar.

My eyes widened. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

Max arched one of his eyes. Under the low lighting, they look greener than normal, more like the eyes of an alley cat. “Of course it is.” He stuffed the baggy back in his pocket. “Hey,
you
asked me to buy it.” His tone got defensive.

“
I
did?” The words jumped out of my throat.

Just as I was about to tell him to go flush the junk down the toilet, Shelley returned with two monstrous, martini-shaped glasses.

“Here you go.” From a silver shaker, she poured a liquid the color of an Arizona sunset into each glass.

“Jason used the organic, sugar-free mixes, right?” Max asked her.

“Bien sûr.”

Pursing his lips, he turned to me. “And I think Callie wants to order an appetizer.” His fingers strummed the table, waiting for me to speak.

I turned to Shelley but her delicate mouth hung open in a perfect circle, as if she had never taken a food order before—which, in her defense, she probably hadn’t. I cleared my throat. “What would you recommend?”

Shelley finally closed her mouth only to open it again. “How about a small salad?”

“Salad?” I grimaced. “Anything a little more…substantial?”
I’d sell my soul for a raspberry scone right now
.

“Well, I can ask Jason to add a slice of sourdough bread to it?” Her tone was doubtful and I felt my chances of real sustenance slipping fast.

I finally sighed and said, “That’ll be fine.”
For now
. But the first thing I was going to do tomorrow was find a grocery store and make myself a nice, fresh omelet with tomatoes, cheddar cheese, green onions, a sprinkle of paprika and—

“Callie?” Max interrupted my food daydream. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Er…yeah. Sure I am. Heard every word,” I lied. I lifted the monstrous martini glass to my lips. The orange-reddish liquid tasted like cranberry and vodka. “Mmm…this isn’t bad.” I took another long sip. It wasn’t as good as Uncle Mario’s sangria but it was good.

“Do you want to dance or don’t you?” Max asked impatiently.

Silence.

“Maybe in a little while?” I scanned the dance floor.

A rainbow light display swept over several dancing couples who looked like possible contestants for
Dancing with the Stars
. Fortunately, the DJ continued to play New Agey, slow song renditions of 80’s songs, mixed in, oddly, with rap. Slow songs I could handle, even though I risked ankle injury. I was still getting used to Callie’s stilettos.

Sulking, Max removed his arm from the back of the booth. “What is wrong with you lately? Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…hungry.” My shoulders shrugged. “Can’t a girl get hungry?”

“Are you seeing someone else?” Max blurted. He cupped his drink with his hands and leaned forward. “It’s Craig, isn’t it?” His eyes demanded an answer.

Craig? Who’s Craig?
I just shook my head. “No, it’s none of those things. You wouldn’t…” I paused. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“I’d rather not.”

His eyes widened another notch. Whether he was hurt or confused, I couldn’t tell. Probably a little of both.

Max’s nostrils flared, and he returned to staring at the long stem of his martini glass while I struggled to say something that made sense. I had to wonder what Callie and Max used to talk about when they came to cool places like this. Quite honestly, I wanted to ask him why he felt it was necessary to buy cocaine, but that would only stoke his confusion.

Just as Max was about to speak, Shelley returned with a porcelain bowl of lettuce the size of a baseball. It was adorned, thankfully, with two cherry tomatoes and a piece of sourdough bread no bigger than a cell phone. There wasn’t a drop of salad dressing in sight, not even a lemon wedge.

“
Bon appétit
,” Shelley chirped, leaving behind a red cloth napkin and a fork.

I wanted to slap her.

Speechless, I stared down at my salad. If I had ever served anything remotely resembling this salad at the Desert Java, it would have triggered a riot. The
Chocolat
salad was something that was flushed down a garbage disposal, not served to customers.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Max said. “Dig in.”

Dig into what?

Slowly, I reached for the napkin and placed it on my lap. I lifted up the silver fork and sighed. I supposed it was far better than nothing.

As I was about to spear the cherry tomato, something sparkly caught the corner of my eye, almost blinding me. It was like someone flashing a pocket mirror in the desert. I slowly turned my head, my fork frozen over my salad bowl. I looked across the room toward the middle of the bar. Perched on a high-backed chair, alone, sat a blonde woman with sunken cheekbones wearing a dazzlingly bright, yellow cocktail dress. Wild-eyed, the skinny woman stared straight back at me.

It was Alexandra Summers and she looked as if she was getting ready to scream.

“I still can’t believe you were actually
eating
,” Alexandra moaned for the third time as she passed me a five-pound hand weight at Goldie’s Gym.

She hadn’t stopped bringing up the Salad Incident since she picked me up for our daily morning workout.

I was too busy thinking about Max. Last night, he claimed to have had an early morning appointment after I’d made another excuse about being tired and having a headache, which was only partly true. Oddly, when I told him, he seemed almost as relieved as I was. But how long could I expect him to wait, especially when he clearly was used to more frequent sex? Unfortunately, the old Callie obviously set the bar pretty high. I wasn’t sure if I could meet it. It would be easier to clear the high jump.

Baby steps
, I reminded myself. I would sleep with Max Kramer or kill myself trying.

“At least tell me Jason didn’t put croutons on it…” Alexandra continued. “Croutons are loaded with fat, you know. The bad kind.”

“On what?” I raised the weight over my head, feeling the burn in my triceps. It was kind of refreshing not to be embarrassed to watch my reflection in the weight room mirrors. I loved having long skinny arms.

Seated on the bench next to me, Alexandra rolled her eyes. “The
salad
, Callie,” she said, still immersed in the food drama.

I smiled at her. “No croutons, Alexandra. Don’t blow a gasket.” My eyes scanned the rest of the gym behind us. I was kind of hoping to catch a glimpse of Carlos. Normally he’d have been wiping down the mirrors by now or hauling stacks of clean towels around the gym. He was also the only reason I agreed to come to the gym with Alexandra.

I sighed inwardly. I just wanted—needed—a glimpse.

When I didn’t see him, I looked for the treadmill, the one that for some inexplicable reason brought me to this place, to this perfect body, and away from all my problems.

It’s there
, I noted, drawing in a grateful breath. It still looked new compared to the others, although someone was using it. A girl who looked the way I used to—a little on the curvier side, long T-shirt that covered most of her legs, ponytail, and an expression that said she’d rather be anywhere else than running on that damn treadmill.

“I’m going to have to add that salad to your caloric diary.” Alexandra shook her head at me, interrupting my daydream.

“Yeah, about that…” I bent over to drop the weight against the rubber mat.

Alexandra stopped in mid-press. “Yeah?”

I sniffed. Even now, even as Callie Collins, Alexandra still intimidated me. “Well, I was thinking…maybe you should let me handle my own weight diary from now on.”

“Caloric diary,” she corrected me.

I grimaced. “Yeah, whatever. But it’s kind of personal, you know. The whole weight thing, that is.” My shoulders shrugged. “I’ve never liked talking about it.” Kathryn never even knew my exact weight. It was bad enough that my doctor had to know.

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“But, I’m your assistant. Your
personal
assistant. You asked me to keep it for you.”

“Yes, I know, and I appreciate that, really I do. I’m just now wondering if…”

“If what?” She stood and took a step closer, her chest puffed out.

“If maybe you wouldn’t want to do something more…meaningful?” I paused. “For me, of course. As a personal assistant, I mean.”

Alexandra had to blink several times before she could respond. “Oookay,” she said, finally. Dramatically. She lifted her palm. “You’re the boss. But just remember that the camera puts on…”

“Ten extra pounds—I know.”

“It was your idea in the first place.”

“I realize that, Alexandra.”

We were talking in circles.

If Alexandra only knew who she was really talking to, I thought to myself as I stared back at my reflection, reaching up absently to touch the side of my head. My hair shone almost golden under the fluorescent light. Dressed in a skin-tight, white tank top and tiny, black spandex shorts that could double as bikini bottoms, I easily had one of the best toned bodies in the entire gym—next to Alexandra’s, of course.

I could definitely get used to the new body. But the whole personal assistant thing? With Alexandra Summers following me around like an anorexic shadow?

That was going to take bucket-loads of patience. And quite possibly a few raspberry scones.

I stretched out my workout for as long as I could on the off-chance I’d see Carlos. Not that he would know me. I mean, he’d know me as Callie Collins, not Grace Mills, if he knew Callie Collins at all.

I wanted to see his face, though. Just a quick look.

“Good workout, Callie,” Alexandra said behind me. “Good thing, too.” She added, arching an eyebrow toward my flat stomach where the
Chocolat
salad had digested twelve hours ago.

“Anyway. We gotta get going. Got a big day today.”

“Really?” I swallowed, too afraid to ask for details. Another day in front of hot cameras was going to require a boost of confidence but, like everything else, the sooner I dealt with it the better.

I dabbed my forehead with a fresh towel handed to me from the Front Desk Guy. At least now I knew he answered to the name of Chad. He’d been smiling maniacally at me all morning every time I so much as glanced in the direction of the front door.

“Really,” Alexandra said, pulling her car keys from her gym bag. “You ready?”

“Yep.” I tried to match her enthusiasm as I took one final look across the gym for Carlos as we made our way to the front door.

“Bye, Callie,” Chad chirped from the front desk. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Bye, Chad.” I smiled at him. “And thanks again for the towel,” I added as I pushed open the door.

“Anytime, Cal!”

As I stepped outside into the sunlight with my hand pushed against the glass door, I stopped. Holding the door on the other side was Carlos, dressed in his usual baggy khaki pants and a white T-shirt. He filled the door, and I was almost as tall as he was in my perfect, new body.