Finding Mr. Right Now (35 page)

“I’ll see if I can find him.”

Brendan’s forehead was furrowed again. Evidently, he wasn’t buying Paul’s plan of action. “But don’t you need to talk to Mr. Donovan?”

“Not if I can help it,” Paul muttered, dumping the last of his shirts into the duffle. “Look, I left the tux and the other clothes the show provided in the closet. Would you let the wardrobe people know so they can pick them up?”

“I guess.” Brendan’s forehead was still furrowed, which gave him a sort of bloodhound puppy vibe. “You should say goodbye to Ronnie too.”

Paul checked the closet one last time. “If I see her before I go, I’ll apologize and say goodbye.”

“You should find her.” Brendan’s chin raised again mutinously. “You should go out and look for her now.”

Paul sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, the kid had a point. “Okay. I’ll go by the main building on my way out. Maybe I’ll find Sid there.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Paul wasn’t sure whether Brendan was accompanying him to make sure he looked for Ronnie or because he was curious about what was going to happen next. Paul was a little curious himself. He didn’t see anyone around the terrace, and he deliberately avoided the hall that led to Donovan’s conference room.

Ronnie was standing in the lobby with two of the makeup girls, both of whom began edging toward the outer door when they saw him.

“Hi Ronnie,” he said.

She turned his way, then broke into one of her dazzling smiles. “Hey, Paul. I didn’t know you’d come back yet. Where’s Monica? Are you going back on the show now?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea after that magazine article.”

Ronnie’s lower lip extended in a pout. “Well, I don’t see why not. If I don’t mind, why should anybody else?”

He managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “I think the producers probably feel like it would ruin the suspense. Since people wouldn’t think you and I could end up together.”

Ronnie’s eyes widened. “But we never could have ended up together anyway. I mean, you had Monica.”

He gave her a careful smile. “Right, well, nobody else was supposed to know that. Outside the production company, that is. I don’t suppose you know where she went when she left?”

Ronnie shrugged. “No. I wish I’d gone with her. She left before I thought of it.”

Lucky Monica.
“I guess I’ll try to find her on my own, then. Good luck with the finale, Ronnie.”

Ronnie’s lip extended farther. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Paul. Finally!” Sid headed into the main room at a brisk trot.

Paul picked up the duffle again. “I’m ready to leave. I’m all packed. You can tell Donovan I’ll go quietly.”

“We need to talk to you.” Sid took hold of his arm. “Come with me and we’ll find him.”

“I don’t need to talk to Glenn, I need to find Monica. Do you know where she went?”

“No. I only talked to her a couple of times after she took off, and she didn’t tell me where she was. Come on, we need to find Glenn.” Sid started to push him toward the door.

Paul dug in his heels. “I’ve got nothing to say to Donovan. Did Monica go back to LA?”

“Who knows? That was Glenn’s suggestion, but I don’t know if she took it.” Sid’s glance darted right and left. “Look, you need to meet with Glenn somewhere else. A lot of reporters and photographers have been hanging around the resort. You don’t want them to see you here right now.”

“I don’t want Paul to go.” Ronnie stepped in front of him. “I think it’s stupid. I don’t even like Billy Joe.”

Sid narrowed his eyes. “We’ve got no choice now that those pictures have come out—Paul’s out and Billy Joe’s back in. But we can do a special episode with just you and Paul. Except Paul needs to talk to Glenn about it and keep out of sight until it’s done.”

“I do?” Paul folded his arms across his chest. “Why?”

“Because the reporters will want interviews. They’ll ask you about Monica. And Ronnie.” Sid ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in tufts. “We won’t be able to control the story if you talk to the reporters. We have to shoot the special episode first.”

“A special episode including what?”

Sid shrugged. “You apologize to Ronnie for breaking her heart. She cries, maybe throws a punch at you. It’ll be gold, pure gold.”

Paul stared down at him, then turned to Ronnie. “Is your heart broken?”

Ronnie shrugged. “Not really.”

“Do you want to punch me?”

Ronnie grimaced. “Of course not.”

“Okay. Sorry if I caused you any embarrassment.”

Ronnie shrugged again. “No problem.”

Paul turned back to Sid. “Apology offered and accepted. Threats of violence averted. No need for any special episode. I’m leaving.”

Sid’s face paled to the color of dirty milk. “You can’t leave. You’ve got a contract—maybe it’s not with this show, but it’s with Fairstein. If you don’t do what Glenn says, they’ll bounce you from
Finding Miss Right
. I can guarantee you’ll never write another show for the company.”

Paul took a deep breath. “Could I have that in writing?”

Sid stared at him. “What?”

“I want it in writing that I will never have to write another show for Fairstein. Ever.”

Sid seemed beyond speech for a moment. A vein jumped in his forehead. “They’ll pay you extra,” he muttered finally. “You can probably get double your salary.”

Paul narrowed his eyes. “Nope, not even for that. You can tell the press I’ve been bounced from the show. Which should get you some nice coverage and restore what little integrity this whole thing ever had. Lots of luck, everybody.”

He shouldered his duffel and headed for the parking lot, ignoring the sound of footsteps behind him as he walked out the door.

“Dewitt?” Sid called.

He half-turned, sighing. “Yeah?”

Sid walked closer, lowering his voice. He ran his hand through his hair again. “Look, tell Monica it was just business. It wasn’t personal.” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “And it wasn’t my idea. I’m sorry for the way it all turned out.”

Paul narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“The pictures. The whole thing with
Celebrity News
.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Just business.”

Paul blew out a breath. “You’re saying it was you? You sold Faisal’s shots? And the pictures at the hot springs?”

Sid nodded slowly. “Like I said, it wasn’t my idea.”

Paul stood frozen for a moment, then he grinned unwillingly. It actually made sense in a demented kind of way. “Glenn’s idea, right?”

Sid nodded again. “It was supposed to be great publicity, leading up to this blockbuster episode with you and Ronnie. He downloaded the shots Faisal did in town, and then he had me follow you at the hot springs.”

Paul was briefly cheered by the idea of Sid sitting out in the rain while he and Monica made love in the gypsy wagon. “But how did you know about me and Monica?”

Sid gave him a dry smile. “Trust me—everybody in the production company knew about you and Monica. Except maybe Brendan.”

After a moment, Paul shook his head. “Oh well. Give my best to Cathe Marx. I doubt I’ll be talking to her again. Ever.”

“I’ll do that. I only wish I could figure out some way to make her stop talking to me.” Sid shrugged. “See you around.”

“It’s possible.” Paul headed toward his car. All of a sudden, he had a very good idea where Monica might have ended up. And finding Monica now took precedence over everything else.

Monica thought the Blarney Stone seemed amazingly jaunty that night. Several copies of
Celebrity News
had been passed around. Someone had even torn the pictures out of the magazine and stapled them to the wall at the far side of the bar. Ted claimed it gave the room a touch of class.

She’d even signed a couple of copies of the magazine. After all, the pictures were clearly her, and at least the ones from Salt Box actually were attractive. They looked a little like something from a tourist brochure. No one could deny that Faisal did good work.

Monica herself was in a surprisingly good mood, considering that she’d lost the job she’d had when she’d arrived in Colorado, along with her good name and her apparent boyfriend.

Paul still hadn’t called. But she decided she didn’t care. She was starting a new life in Salt Box, working for Richard Sonnenfeld, who was paying her a fat salary along with a decent medical plan, although he was being a bastard about dental. What was one boyfriend, more or less?

Of course that one boyfriend was Paul, who’d turned out to matter a lot more than she’d ever thought he would. She knew his leaving would hurt eventually, once the adrenaline and beer wore off. But maybe she could put it off for the rest of the evening.

Or maybe not.

She saw him the minute he walked in, although she wasn’t sure anybody else did. He looked like a man who hadn’t gotten much sleep over the past few days. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair mussed, his clothes wrinkled. Either he’d passed into that zone beyond tired, or he was half shit-faced.

He paused just inside the door for a jaw-cracking yawn, which pretty much settled the matter. Then he saw her.

Monica had always assumed the whole room-stood-still business was just a movie cliché—it had certainly never happened to her before. But it happened now. The noise in the room disappeared and there were only the two of them, staring at one another.

It took her a moment to realize the noise in the room really
had
disappeared because everybody was watching them to see what would happen next.

What actually happened was that he strolled across the room, leaned on the bar beside her, and said, “Hey, Monica.”

Well, damn.
As romantic greetings went, that wasn’t much. But at least the silent room thing had been really cool. She turned back to her beer. “Hi. When did you get back?”

He glanced around at the magazine shots stapled to the wall. “This afternoon. I take it you saw
Celebrity News
.”

“Oh yeah. We’ve had a regular little party here. Faisal’s shots made Salt Box look like tourist heaven.” She tried a smile, but she wasn’t sure it worked all that well.

Ted dropped a bowl of spiced nuts in front of her. Apparently, food was his all-purpose soother of wounds. “Hi, Paul.”

Paul nodded at him. “Nice décor.”

“We like it.” Ted gave him a meaningful smile and headed back toward the other end of the bar.

“You gonna sit down at the bar or you gonna take her outside? I’d vote for outside, but that’s just my opinion.” Dick’s voice cut through the crowd noise like a knife. He gave Paul the ice blue look that usually foreshadowed a coming attack.

“I’ll take her outside.” Paul turned to look at her again, his eyes suddenly dark. “If she’ll come, that is.”

Monica shrugged with a nonchalance she wasn’t even close to feeling and slid off her barstool. “Why not?”

“Why not indeed?” he muttered, pushing a path through the crowd of hikers and bikers who’d suddenly filled the room. A rock climber with biceps like small foothills called for a bucket of beers and everyone seemed to promptly forget about them.

Paul pulled her along to the edge of the front porch, then stopped. “Would you like to sit or walk?”

“Walk,” she said flatly. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if she had to sit and stare at him.

He took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers, and led her slowly down the sidewalk in the general direction of the Praeger House. “Okay, first of all, I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

“For what exactly? I mean which of your sins is this particular apology supposed to cover?” She thought about smiling but decided not to risk it.

He ran his other hand through his hair, tangling the curls in front. “Oh, take your pick. Flying off without helping you. Setting you up to be a tabloid sensation. Getting you fired. Leaving you to take all of this on yourself.”

“Did you get the contract?” she interrupted.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I did.”

“Good. It would have been really annoying to go through all this and not have you get anything out of it.”

He frowned. “I’m looking for forgiveness here.”

“I’m thinking about it.” She let her mouth curve up in a slight smile. “You could’ve called, you know.”

He nodded. “I know. But my phone went dead because I didn’t charge it before I left, and then I was in meetings for five hours straight, and then I decided I’d rather just talk to you in person. I mean, I’ve got some things to say if you’re ready to hear them.”

She shook her head. “Not yet. How did you set me up to be a tabloid sensation?”

He sighed. “I used to date the editor of
Celebrity News
. She’s the one who got me the job at Fairstein. And she’s been after me for inside information about the show ever since we started shooting. I think this whole thing was partly revenge because I wouldn’t pass anything along to her.”