Let's Misbehave (23 page)

“Are you sure you know what you want?”

She frowned. Three weeks ago, the answer would have been a definite yes, but now it was more complicated.

Her mother took her hand and held it in hers. “Where is your heart, Imogen?”

With Merrick
.

The immediate answer startled her. Before him, she wouldn’t have hesitated to say her heart was in her work. She still loved her job—she wouldn’t stop for anyone—but she wanted more.

She wanted Merrick.

“Who knew?” she murmured. She looked up at her mother, who watched her with loving concern. “He’s better off without me. I hurt his career.”

“He could say the same thing regarding you, can’t he?” Jacqueline squeezed her hand. “Don’t you think you should give him a choice instead of making it for him? He might surprise you.”

“What if he doesn’t?” she asked, swallowing the fear that rose up her throat. “I don’t think I could bear it if he didn’t.”

Her mother nodded. “But if you don’t give him the chance, the answer is already no, isn’t it?”

“True.” But he hadn’t tried to contact her since she’d told him she thought it was better that they didn’t see each other. It might be a moot point. He might have decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. “I have a lot to think about.”

Her mother smiled. “I have every confidence in you, Imogen. I just want you to be happy.”

She leaned against her mum, putting her head on her shoulder. “I do, too.”

***

Gigi went to the Red Witch on a mission.

Her sisters were already there, sitting around one corner of the bar for a change. Portia, Rosalind, and Summer were in an intense discussion with Niamh, the bartender; Beatrice and Viola had their heads together, quietly discussing something that appeared serious.

Gigi stood aside and studied them for a moment. Then she strode up to the bar and thumped the counter with her fist.

The entire section, which included two other parties, went quiet.

“I have a monologue to make.”

Portia nudged Summer. “Check the liquor at home. It looks like Gigi’s gotten into it.”

“I’m going to ignore certain people”—Gigi cast a pointed look at Portia—”and continue by saying that I love you all, and that I’m grateful for you, and whatever happens, I’ll love you.”

Rosalind frowned. “You aren’t planning on hurting yourself, are you? Because suicide isn’t the answer.”

“Better to kill the guy,” Viola added. Her eyes narrowed. “In fact, if you need help, I’d be willing.”

Smiling, Bea put her arm around Vi. “Gigi, maybe you should just explain what you’re talking about.”

The pub’s door flew open, slamming into the wall, and everyone’s attention flitted to the front.

Gigi turned with a frown to see who was upstaging her. But then she gasped when she saw who it was. “Tawny.”

Titania looked around, obviously uncomfortable. She made eye contact with Gigi and then her glance flitted to their other sisters, staying on Summer just a touch longer than the others. Then she returned to Gigi and scowled.

Gigi grinned and went to her before she could run. She hugged her sister, holding her close. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Titania said simply. “You needed me.”

Gigi closed her eyes, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder. “I really did.”

Titania held her at arm’s length. “Who do we kill?”

Laughing, Gigi took her hand and led her to the group. “You and Viola have
so
much in common.”

Bea was already on her feet, walking toward them. As if knowing that Titania was uncomfortable with too much contact, Bea stopped right in front of her and smiled. Then she reached out and gently tugged on Tawny’s ponytail. “You still have a funny face, squirt.”

Titania looked away, frowning, but Gigi caught the sheen of moisture that sprung in her eyes.

As if understanding, Bea took her other hand and they led her to everyone else. “You know everyone, except I think you haven’t met our new sister, Summer.”

Summer, still a little shy of her status, stood up and held her hand out to Titania. “I’m happy to meet you.”

Titania stared at Summer’s face.

Everyone seemed to hold her breath.

Not Gigi. Tawny knew what it was like to feel like an outsider. She’d never act out against Summer.

Titania finally took Summer’s hand. “You look just like the rest of us. I’m so sorry.”

Viola laughed. “You should see my daughter Chloe. She’s like a Goth version of us. The Summerhill genes run true.”

“Titania, sit here.” Rosalind pulled a stool over to be next to her. “What do you want to drink?”

“Tequila,” Tawny said instantly.

“I always loved Titania best,” Vi said to Portia.

Portia elbowed Viola and then turned to Gigi. “Didn’t you have some major declaration to make?”

“I did. I was just saying—” She gasped and opened her purse. She pulled out the gnome and set it on the counter. “I almost forgot Malcolm.”

They all stared at the statue.

Titania was the one who said, “You named the garden gnome?”

“It’s not that she named it,” Bea said, reclining in her seat. “It’s that she named it
Malcolm
.”

Gigi shook her finger at them all. “Say what you will, but Malcolm is important here.”

“Because in the face of your shattering career you’ve decided to become a gardener?” Portia asked.

Both Summer and Rosalind poked her.

“No, but I’ve realigned my priorities.” She faced Titania. “I’m ready for that photo shoot, if you still have time.”

“Halleluah,” her younger sister said.

“I don’t want anything sanitized,” she warned. “If we’re doing this, Tawny, it’s going to be about the real me.”

“I’m going to chalk you having to say that to stress and let it go.” Titania narrowed her eyes. “You realize that if it’d been anyone else, my camera would be shoved up his arse, right?”

“Noted.” Gigi’s lips twitched, but she composed herself and faced her eldest sister. “Bea—”

“Hello, ladies,” Gigi heard from behind her.

She turned, unable to believe Dirk was standing there even after she heard his voice. She should have asked what he was doing there—or better yet, insisted that he leave.

Instead she threw the rest of her martini in his face.

“Gi—Imogen,” he exclaimed, wiping his face with his sleeves. “What—”

In unison, her sisters tossed their drinks at him, too.

Grinning, Gigi turned to Viola. “If you want to kill him, be my guest.”

Vi lit up. “Really?”

“Can I help?” Titania asked, glaring daggers at him.

“I think we’d all be willing to lend a hand,” Bea said, giving him her death stare.

Rosalind shook her head. “Dirk, you should leave while you still have your balls intact.”

Paling, Dirk cupped a hand in front of his fly as he tried to keep alcohol from dripping in his eyes. “I just came to ask Imogen to go back to Los Angeles with me.”

“The answer is no,” Bea said.

His forehead furrowed. “What if she wants to go?”

“I really don’t,” Gigi said, smiling at Bea who slid her arm around Gigi’s waist. She put her hand on her sister’s and leaned her head on her shoulder. “You better leave, Dirk, because in another couple seconds my sisters will unleash their wrath on you, and if I’ve learned anything the past few months, it’s that they’re a bloodthirsty bunch.”

“Wait.” Portia opened the bag and began rummaging through it. “The other day I found great-grandfather Standish’s hunting knife. Remember the one? It was curved and had the wicked serration with an extra deep blood groove.”

Dirk paled and stepped back. “You’re all crazy,” he said as he began to back away.

“Here it is!” Portia exclaimed happily.

Dirk ran out of the bar.

Rosalind turned to Portia. “Do you really have a hunting knife on you?”

“Of course not.” She pulled out a delicate looking piece of metal. “I accidentally took the letter opener from my office the other day and forgot to put it back. I figured he wouldn’t stick around to find out what it was.”

“I think this calls for a toast.” Bea motioned at Niamh, who was laughing as she brought over shot glasses and both a bottle of tequila and whiskey.

“That was brilliant,” the redheaded bartender said as she poured the shots. “And I’m joining you in celebrating whatever that was.”

“He was a wanker,” Portia said, accepting a generous pour of whiskey.

“I’ve no doubt.” Niamh passed around the rest of the shots and held up her own. “To you ladies. Bold, strong, and hopefully with me and not against.”

“Hear, hear,” Bea said, holding her glass up.

Gigi clinked her glass against Niamh’s. “
Slainte
.”

Chapter Twenty-six

Holly stood outside the Red Witch, looking inside through the window. She saw Gigi immediately—the actress was impossible to miss. She was surrounded by similar looking women, probably her sisters, plus a redhead who raised a shot glass in an obvious toast.

Bloody hell, she could use a shot.

Maybe she should let this go and leave. Holly took a step back. She was interrupting a celebration.

But she couldn’t let it go. She needed to make reparations. She didn’t need Gigi’s forgiveness—she wasn’t deluded enough to think she deserved that—but she had to tell the woman she was sorry.

Her heart pounding harder than even when she told her parents she was pregnant; she pushed open the door and entered the bar.

The woman with the curly red hair turned around when she heard the door. Her smile was friendly and welcoming.

Until Beatrice said something.

The redhead’s smile faded, and the other women glared at her.

But she only had eyes for Gigi, who watched her with a blank gaze that was neither discouraging nor promising.

Taking a deep breath, she strode to the table where they all sat, keeping her head high even though she wanted to turn and run. She faced Gigi, who stood as she approached.

She held her hand up as Beatrice stood, too. “I know you want to protect Gigi, but I need to apologize to her. So you can wait to kick me out until after, okay?”

Beatrice pursed her lips. “Fair enough,” she said, retaking her seat.

“Great.” She heaved a breath before facing Gigi. “The studio sent me to be your handler but also to dig up information on you and your private life. They wanted the revenue your infamy brought to the box office.”

Gigi nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t want to give them anything, but they threatened my job and I have a child to support.” She thought about Jamie, who was at home with Mrs. Bailey, their landlady. She shook her head before any of them could say anything. “That’s not an excuse. I’m explaining, so give me a break.”

Gigi’s lips quirked. “All right.”

“I didn’t give them very much, and what I gave them I thought would benefit you with the public.” She exhaled deeply. “But even when I tried to make it positive, so it’d benefit you, they twisted what I said. Still that’s no excuse. I should have known better.”

Gigi gave a noncommittal half-nod.

“I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t tell them anything recently. I put my boss off. It was an inadvertent comment that made her send a photographer to catch you, and I’m sorry for my part in that.” She swallowed. “Nothing I can say will change anything or make it better. You don’t have to believe me. But I wanted you to know that I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known it’d hurt you. I thought people getting to know that you’re like everyone else would make them more likely to accept you as a regular person.”

The skinny blonde who sat next to her, casual in jeans and Converse, elbowed Gigi in the ribs. “See? You should have listened to me sooner.”

Beatrice cleared her throat delicately.

The skinny blonde rolled her eyes. “You need credit, too? I knew you’d still be bossy.”

Gigi’s gaze didn’t waver from hers. “I’ll take what you’re saying with a grain of salt.”

“I can’t ask for more,” Holly said, feeling sad. She turned away.

But then she remembered one last thing. Reaching into her purse, she drew out the check they’d given her. “This is for you.”

“What is it for?” Gigi asked, frowning at it.

“It’s the blood money they gave me as a bonus.” She hugged herself. “I signed it. I figured you could give it to your favorite charity. Maybe the news of the donation might counteract some of the harm I’ve done.”

They stared at her speechlessly.

Nodding, she turned to leave. She’d done what she came to do. Her conscience, while not spotless, was at least mostly clear. There wasn’t much more she could do to clean this up. Next time she’d know better.

“Holly.”

She looked over her shoulder at Gigi. “Yes?”

“Will you still be at the studio?”

She shook her head. “I quit today.”

“You quit?” Gigi gaped at her. “What about supporting your son?”

“Nothing’s worth hurting people, especially people you care about.” She lifted her head. “I’ll figure something out.”

Gigi faced her oldest sister, her brow arched.

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Gigi said with conviction.

Holly looked back and forth, not certain what was happening.

Then Beatrice sighed and pulled a card out of her purse. “Call me, Holly. We’ll find you something in bookkeeping.”

She shook her head, putting her hands behind her so she couldn’t be tempted into taking the card. “I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right. I shouldn’t be rewarded for what I did. I feel awful about it.”

“Working for Bea does not equate to being rewarded,” one of the other sisters said.

The skinny one nodded. “She’s bossy.”

Beatrice leaned forward, extending the card, her gaze even and intent. “I’m demanding but I’m fair. And don’t think of it as being rewarded. It’s Fate. You’re where you need to be, at the right time.”

She took the card, studying it. Then she slipped it into her purse. “Okay, I’ll call you.”

One of the sisters, prim and proper in pearls, said, “Bea’s loaded. Make sure you charge her a lot.”