Sweet Little Lies (8 page)

“Have you seen these costs from Lisa?” Jeri’s voice was screechy and she rarely did screechy. I quickly scanned my e-mail to see if Lisa had copied me on the e-mail. Nope.

“Jeri, she forgot to copy me on the e-mail.” I wasn’t one to throw a colleague (no matter how trifling) under the bus.

“You mean she went around you, thinking she’d get more if she sent it to all of us and left you out of the loop.”

Diplomatically, I said nothing. Jeri continued her rant. A movement in the doorway caught my attention and I looked up to see Carey standing just outside the door. She was in a travel-ready outfit of black pants, white shirt, and suede jacket. Seeing her dialed up the happy in my life exponentially. I waved her in and pressed MUTE. “You’re just in time. Lisa drama. Jeri on the warpath.”

“So nothing’s changed but the time zone.” Carey gave me a quick hug before settling in a chair in front of the desk.

“I’m sending this to you and Carey now, and I want you to make it clear to Lisa that there is a reason we have a chain of command here and we are not made of money!”

Carey and I exchanged looks. When Jeri’s feathers were ruffled, that could only mean bad things. I took the phone off mute.“Uh—are you all right?”

“Things are just a little tense.We’re losing some advertisers because of our coverage of Congressman Walker—do you have any leads yet?”

“I do. I’m checking out a source tomorrow morning at Bayside U. I’m hoping to get some background on the original project and an idea of the congressman’s involvement.”

She gave an audible sigh of relief.“Okay. Christina?”

“Yep?”

“We need this one. Go get it.”

“Done.” No pressure or anything.

“Did Carey make it in yet?”

Carey leaned forward.“Hey, Jeri.”

“Hey. Listen—I hate to throw you in the deep end, but I need you to take everything off Christina’s plate except her morning on-air news recap, this story, and budget approvals.”

“Done.” Carey raised a brow. This was way beyond what was discussed when Carey decided to come West. I shrugged; I had no idea what was going on.

“Of course we’ll compensate accordingly. Christina, I’ll e-mail you her transfer letter with the salary bump. I gotta run. You girls make it happen.” Just that abruptly, she hung up.

Carey and I listened to the dial tone for a second before she hopped up and came around behind my desk. “Well, let’s look at the raise. Looks like I’m going to earn every penny.”

Laughing, I scrolled through to find the e-mail and opened the attachment. We both looked at the number and then at each other.

“Well, that’s a whole lot of work they’re expecting from me, huh? To whom much is given, much is expected. I guess dinner’s on me tonight?!” She whirled and did a little happy dance.

“Oh—about dinner.”

She stopped midtwirl and looked at me.“What?”

“My mother is siccing Clarke on us.”

Carey sighed.“Of course she is. Two single women couldn’t possibly take themselves out to dinner. Joanna never changes.”

“She never will.”And at this point, I didn’t really want her to. Mom was Mom.

Carey surprised me with her answer. “No problem. It could be fun, Clarke is good people.”

I raised a brow; she considered Clarke to be even more of a stuffed designer shirt than Collin. I distinctly recalled during our college years when Clarke disparagingly referred to Carey as a “displaced flower child” to her face on more than one occasion. I also recalled her responding that he needed a colonic to get the stick out of his ass. But hey, who was I to bring up the past? Lord knows I never wanted to discuss mine.“If you’re good with it, I’m good.”

“It’s all good. Let’s drop my stuff off at my brand-new empty condo, pick up some lunch, and you can brief me on all the crap you’re about to start shoveling my way.”

Truthfully, I could use a break. “Let’s get outta here for a little while.”

C
arey had truly come into her own since leaving Bryan. She had always had personality and style, but all of her promise seemed to blossom once she was freed of her toxic relationship.

She was more expressive, more confident, more aware of her own thoughts and opinions. I was thrilled to have her back on the West Coast. I was sitting in her brand-new empty condo, waiting on her so we could meet Clarke for dinner.

“Girl, can you come on?” I called out.

“Two seconds. I have to be cute,” Carey called back.

I rolled my eyes. Carey was more of a funky, wild-child, whatever-I-feel-like dresser than one who was worried about being cute.

Which is why my mouth fell open when she walked out with smoky eyes and mauve-glossed lips. Her hair, still long and loose in a texturized natural style, hung in shiny tight curls past her shoulders. She still favored chunky, eclectic jewelry and accessories, but her clothing style had become less organic cotton and more refined silks and knits. The lines of her clothing
tended to drape and flatter rather than bag and conceal. Tonight she wore a slate blue dress with a deep V-neck in front and back, falling in ruched layers to just above her knees. Chunky shades of topaz at her neck and ears and sky-high bronze pumps completed the look.“I guess the flower child is gone for good?”

“She lives inside, heffa. You don’t think I lived in New York all those years and picked up nothing, did you? Close your mouth and let’s go.”

I glanced at my black jersey wrap dress and glossy patent boots and shrugged. It was cute but safe.“Spotlight is all yours tonight, sister.”

“You’re always stunning and you know it. Can you come on and feed a friend already?”

If my reaction to Carey’s transformation was amusing, Clarke’s was comical. He was just inside the door of the restaurant when we entered, and his faced showed his every emotion. He looked at me with a pleased smile, glanced at Carey in confusion, looked back at me, and then studied Carey more closely. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed.“Carey, what did you do to yourself?”

She stepped forward to give him a hug and whispered in his ear,“I grew up. Have you?”

Oh, really now?
I watched as their hug lasted a beat longer than I expected and Clarke’s hand slid slowly down her back and around her waist before releasing her. Clarke was in a severely cut black suit with a white shirt and silver tie that only the very handsome and very confident could pull off. Clarke reminded everyone of Isaiah Washington’s character from
Grey’s Anatomy,
Preston Burke, in both looks and demeanor. He and Collin looked quite a bit alike, though Clarke had grown an attractive thin mustache lately.

He was arrogant enough to catch your attention, good-looking and charming enough to hold it but classy enough to pull it off. Soft-spoken but strong, I never thought of Clarke as
much of a player with the ladies. Where Collin was the protective brother, Clarke was more playful with me.

Clarke was an attorney who recently opened his own practice after years with a prestigious firm handling international mergers and acquisitions. He was currently looking at Carey as if he wanted to merge and acquire her… soon. The night just turned interestingly awkward.

I sent the both of them a side-eye that they missed. Finally I cleared my throat. “Don’t mind the sister; I’ll just stand here hungry and neglected.”

They both turned to look at me and it clicked. All the snippy, snappy back-and-forth over the years made sense. Sexual tension. Just what I needed. I didn’t know how I felt about my friend and my brother hooking up. But I knew one thing—I was officially out of it. One thing I had to thank the Tragic Trio (my nickname for the ex-fiancés) for was that I learned that I had no clue who made a good match or what it took to start and maintain a relationship. I no longer offered love advice to anyone, including myself. I leaned in for my hug.“Food and wine, please.”

“That’s the least I could do for the pleasure of the company of two such beautiful ladies this evening,” Clarke said, smiling at Carey. She beamed.

Oh good. I was going to be treated to player-Clarke this evening. Sitting down, I reached for the wine list.

By the time we had placed our orders and received cocktails, I was already beyond ready to call it a night. As much as I enjoyed the company of both Carey and Clarke, I seriously would have preferred a large bottle of wine, my DVR, and an early bedtime. I thought longingly of my queen-size pillow-top Sealy as I sat in Waterfront Restaurant at Pier 7, just down from the Valiant offices. Squelching a sigh, I reached for the glass of Pinot Grigio our server had set by my left hand. Watching them banter and flirt made me nostalgic, happy, and uncomfortable all at the same time. I was officially a third
wheel. I was contemplating a doggy bag and exit strategy when someone called my name.

“Good evening, Christina. You are looking particularly tasty this evening.”

Dante, one of my former FwBs, was standing alongside the table. Dante was a former major-league baseball player. He wasn’t terribly tall, but he had pretty-boy looks reminiscent of a sun-kissed Antonio Banderas, the smile of a charmer, and was blessed with a … natural athleticism. In fact, it was his penchant for insatiable, marathon bouts of naked aerobic activity that caused me to excuse him from my FwB rotation. A girl had her limits, and there was something to be said for quality over quantity. Dante was all about the quantity. He was widely known as an untamable playboy with an excessive taste for the good things in life.

He was a man who loved women and they generally loved him right back. Since I was cured of that “love” disease, he was a perfect FwB for me…for a while. Staying in the orbit of the sun was exhausting, and I liked to keep my distance before I was singed. Dante was not the type of man most women walked away from. He preferred to do the walking away. To say he hadn’t taken my dismissal of his services well was an understatement of the highest order.

I wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the intersecting tangled webs my life was weaving into this evening. I generally kept my friends away from family and my family away from my FwBs. Everyone all at the same place at the same time was putting my head in a bad space. But in typical Christina fashion, I plastered on a smile and rose from my seat to accept his outstretched hand.

“Dante, I thought you were in the Dominican Republic.” I tilted my head so he could kiss my cheek.

“I was. Now I am here.” He smiled with a glint in his eyes that I knew too well. He was working the whole I’ve-seen-you-naked-and-want-to-again vibe.

Turning back to the table, I gestured. “This is my good friend Carey Jaymes, and my brother Clarke Brinsley. This is Dante Esteban. Dante is a…friend of mine.”

Clarke rose and was in the process of shaking his hand when Dante said something really ignorant. “Oh,
querida,
I think we were more than friends, no?”

Clarke gave him the Brinsley stony-eyed glare.“That’s my sister. Please watch what you say in front of the ladies.”

Dante sized up Clarke and then glanced at me. Did I mention how very much I wished this day was over? All I could do was shoot accusatory beams of pisstivity in Dante’s direction. What I really wanted to do was stomp my booted size 7 foot and scream “Go. Sit. Down!”

“My apologies. Do you mind if I join you for a round of drinks? As an apology for my lapse in behavior?”

Carey and Clarke looked at me. Carey’s face had “how you gonna handle this one?” written all over it. I shot a glance toward the door, wondering if I could break for freedom. Damn these four-inch heels—not a chance in hell was I doing a mad dash in these babies. Add to that the fact that the whole front side of the restaurant was now eyeballing our table. I had forgotten that Dante was a crowd favorite when he played for the Oakland A’s. He was something of a sports celebrity.

As the kids in the newsroom say—FML (Eff My Life). I motioned to the empty chair next to mine and reapplied the fake smile.

“Have a seat, Dante.” I motioned to our waiter.“We’ll take another round, thank you.”

“Will Mr. Esteban be joining you for dinner?”

“Uh, no—we don’t want to monopolize Mr. Esteban’s time.”The smile was starting to hurt my cheeks a little at this time. And speaking of cheeks, Mr. Buns of Steel was sitting a little too close for my comfort. When he handed the waiter some bills to cover the drinks, I discreetly slid my chair over an inch.

“So…” Carey tested the conversational waters. “How did you and Christina meet?”

I gratefully accepted my wine refill from the waiter and sipped deeply.

“Chrissa and I met on the set of VNN. I was there to do an interview with that sports guy …” He paused.

“Vic.” I hated the name Chrissa, I really did.

“Yes, Vic, and I saw the lovely Chrissa across the room. It was, how you say? Magic, no?”

“No, not really, and it’s Christina. I’ve told you that a million times.”

He leaned over to whisper in my ear. “There were times you didn’t mind.”

Through clenched teeth I responded, “Times change.” I sent Clarke a say-something, pleading look.

“So, Dante, how is life after baseball? What are you doing with yourself?”

Thankfully, Dante launched into a lengthy speech about himself, thus freeing the rest of us from having to make any conversation beyond a “really, how interesting” every time he paused to take a breath.

I zoned out. Crossed one leg over the other, stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the inky bay water.Taking another fortifying sip of wine, I wondered just what all was in that water.Then I squinted and looked about thirty-three degrees southeast. I imagined that I could see lights on my next-door neighbor’s back patio, which he seemed to have an aversion to turning off no matter the time of day.

“Isn’t that right, Christina?” Dante’s voice broke into the first truly peaceful moment I’d had all day.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I blinked twice and saw both Carey and Clarke waiting expectantly for my answer.

“I was telling your brother and your friend here that the real reason I left the Bay Area was because you kicked me out of your bed and told me I wasn’t welcome back again. Even
when I pleaded, you still said no. Threw me out naked in the rain before tossing the car keys at my head.
Es verdad?
”

Now, bad enough that he decided to share this with Carey and Clarke, but his voice had risen dramatically and the other half of the restaurant that hadn’t been eavesdropping before were now actively engaged in the conversation.

I opened my mouth to snap out a scathing reply when his hand slid under the table and landed on my thigh. That hand had the nerve to start sliding upward.
No, he didn’t!
I abruptly closed my mouth. I was about to shut this nonsense down.

I turned toward him with a slow, sweet smile. I waited until a slow smile spread across his handsome face. “A lady never kicks, tosses, and tells. A gentleman would know that.” With that, I allowed my right hand to accidentally knock over my water glass with the majority of icy liquid splashing directly into his lap. He leaped up as the waitstaff rushed toward him with napkins outstretched.

“Oh,
lo siento, papi
,” I apologized in Spanish. “You may want to take care of that.”

He shot me a look that warned of retribution.

I nodded once and raised my wineglass in salute.“Thanks for the drink, Dante. Welcome back to the Bay.”

“I’ll be seeing you around, Chrissa,” he announced as he marched toward the exit.

“Not if I see you first,” I muttered into the wineglass that had become my best friend for the evening.

Appetizers we had not ordered appeared on a tray next to the table.“Dinner is compliments of Mr. Esteban this evening.”

“In that case, you can just bring the bottle.” I flashed a smile at the waiter. Turning back to Carey and Clarke, I mo-tioned.“Well, dig in.”

“Well…” Carey hid a giggle behind her napkin.“That was awkward.”

“Shut it and eat a shrimp.”

“I mean, I knew you were slaying ’em in the streets, but you are
literally
slaying dudes in the streets!” She dissolved into laughter. Clarke joined her.

“Sis, you nothing to play with. You wet down a gazillion-aire celebrity in public and still got dinner paid for.” He lifted his cocktail.“Respect.”

I toasted.“Recognize. Now pass me a damn crab cake.”