Too Little, Too Late (19 page)

“I can’t helf m’self,” he replied, slurring his words. “How’s about you and me gettin’ horizontal?”

“Maybe later,” she replied distractedly, “after I find Laurie and Spic. Have you seen them?”

“Forget about’em.” His eyelids drooped, a combination of too much booze and too much grass. “Les go.”

“Later, okay?” She plucked the lit joint from his fingers and took a deep drag. Karen had nothing against doing recreational drugs but she absolutely hated it when Josh got so stoned he could barely stand up.

“You’re no fun,” he whined before stumbling out towards the pool.

You’re not exactly a barrel of laughs either
, thought Karen as she stomped outside to where the cooks were grilling steaks. “Have you seen a really skinny girl wearing a blue tank top and jeans?”

“You mean the chick with the pock marks on her face?” one of them asked.

“Yeah,” said Karen quickly. “She’s the one.”

“That chick is loco.” The Hispanic cook stuck his finger in the general direction of the kitchen. “I told her I didn’t have any blow but she didn’t believe me.”

“Shit!”

At a party like this, scoring some blow would be about as hard as finding ass wipe. Making a beeline into the kitchen, Karen was relieved to find a glassy-eyed Laurie propped up against the counter, stoned out of her mind. She was in the middle of a heavy petting session with one of Josh’s crew but her faithful sidekick was nowhere to be found.

“Hey.”

Laurie looked at Karen, trying to focus. “Hey yousef,” she muttered. “This is a fucktastic party!”

“Yeah,” Karen replied automatically. “Where’s Spic?”

Laurie shrugged before replying vaguely, “Gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Upstairs, downstairs—”

“—to the moon,” offered her companion, before howling like a wolf at the top of his lungs.

Inwardly, Karen fumed as she left the kitchen and went upstairs. Why the hell she felt responsible for her friends was beyond her. Unfortunately, her fucked up sense of duty was making her miss out on a great party.

On the second floor, she opened the first door to her right and peeked inside. It was a deserted little storage room. Walking a little further down the hallway, she put her ear to the next door and heard muffled sounds coming from inside. Yanking the door open, she saw Badass Bowser, one of the artists on Albatross’ label, being serviced by a girl Karen didn’t recognize.

The other girl in the room invited Karen in. “Want in on our private party?” she asked, holding out a tube of lipstick. “We still have
Scarlet Angel
left, if you want it.”

“No thanks.” Rainbow parties were definitely not her scene, even if the dick was semi-famous.

About to give up and head back downstairs again, Karen heard the sound of shattered glass and then a voice sounding suspiciously like Spic’s let out a painful “Fuck!!”

“Spic?” Karen crossed the carpeted hallway and rattled the locked doorknob. “Is that you? Open up!”

“Just a sec,” came her friend’s muffled response. “I sliced open my god-damned finger.” A minute later, she opened the door and let Karen in. There was unraveled toilet paper all over the bathroom floor, along with traces of blood and broken glass. Also scattered throughout were a bunch of pills.

In one quick sweep, Karen took in the entire picture, including the open medicine cabinet. “Tell me you weren’t stealing pills from Lionel Connors’ medicine cabinet.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her friend could barely contain her excitement, despite her pale features. “That old fart has enough pills to start his own drugstore.”

Karen surveyed the blood seeping through the wadding of toilet paper on Spic’s finger. “How bad is it?” she asked.

Her friend reached for the cabinet, suddenly unsteady on her feet. “I’m not sure.”

“Here, let me take a look.” Unwrapping Spic’s finger, she held it under cold running water. The gash was deep, almost to the bone, and Karen’s stomach churned. Spic would need stitches to close the wound.

“I’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

“There’s no way I’m going to any hospital,” Spic argued belligerently as Karen bandaged her finger with gauze she found in the medicine cabinet. “I hate hospitals.”

“Too damn bad,” Karen told her, holding her ground. “You should’ve thought of that before you tried stealing the pills, you jerk.”

“Fuck you,” said Spic weakly.

“Love you, too,” replied Karen before surveying the mess in the bathroom. “Let’s go.”

Spic followed her meekly out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Surprisingly, the kitchen was deserted.

“Where the hell is everybody?”

“Probably watching the fight,” Spic replied.

“What fight?”

“The one down there,” she replied, pointing her bloody finger in the general direction of the beach.

“Oh no!” Karen’s stomach sank like a stone as she saw the tangle of bodies surrounding the volleyball net, cheering and yelling. In a flash, she was running out the door and down the steps towards the beach. Clawing her way through the crowd of boisterous bodies, she saw Ashley and Laurie locked in mortal combat. Without thought for her own safety, she jumped in the fray in an effort to separate her two friends. Karen was saved from getting dragged down as Josh and one of his crew separated the two girls.

“I’m gonna kill you, bitch!” screamed Laurie, trying to break away from Josh. Her tank top had ripped and was hanging from her lanky body.

“She’s an animal! Get her away from me!” returned Ashley. Her new nose was bleeding profusely, with the blood coursing down her face into her bikini top.

A tall, surfer type was busy taking phone shots of all the action. “This here’s
Jerry Springer
gold, man!”

Paul Wagner sent his chauffeured car to pick up Kate on Friday afternoon for their trip to San Francisco.

“Good afternoon, Madam,” the chauffeur told her formally. “Mr. Wagner has asked that I take you to the airport to meet him.” He held out his hand. “I’m Darryl, his personal driver.”

“Nice to meet you, Darryl,” she told him, shaking his hand. “Where exactly is Mr. Wagner?”

“Mr. Wagner’s been delayed in Toronto but expects to be landing at the airport shortly,” he told her apologetically.

“Toronto!” Kate was confused. “I thought Paul had been in Sao Paulo.”

“He was,” Darryl explained, “but he had to fly to Toronto yesterday.”

“Your boss certainly gets around,” Kate remarked dryly, handing him her overnight bag.

The driver grinned. “That he does, Ma’am.”

The ride to the airport was uneventful and when the car pulled up to the tarmac in front of a private jet, Kate was suitably impressed.

“Mr. Wagner made good time,” Darryl remarked, helping her from the car.

“No wonder,” Kate muttered as she made her way up the steps of the aircraft.

She was greeted in the plane by a flight attendant dressed in a smart uniform of dove grey. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Stanton.”

“Thank you.”

She handed Kate’s overnight bag to a waiting steward before motioning to the well-appointed cabin. “Please make yourself comfortable. Mr. Wagner is just freshening up and will be right with you.”

Kate sat in one of the chairs flanking a small table that was strewn with papers. The leather was soft, supple and luxurious, enveloping her in a cocoon of comfort. A minute later, Paul came out of what was probably a washroom. He was dressed casually in jeans and a shirt. His face was freshly shaven but nothing could mask the tired lines around his eyes and mouth. However, his face lit up when he saw Kate.

“Glad you could make it,” he told her, giving her a quick hug.

“You really know how to treat a girl in style,” she remarked laughingly. “I’ve been having
Pretty Woman
flashbacks since Darryl came to my door to pick me up.”

One of his eyebrows lifted questioningly as he threw himself into the chair opposite her. “
Pretty Woman
flashbacks?”

“You know,” she explained, a little embarrassed. “The private jet to San Francisco, the driver named Darryl—”

“—except for one major difference,” he argued. “I’m no Richard Gere.”

“There’s
that
obvious point,” she conceded with a smile.

“Besides, you’re better looking than Julia Roberts,” he told her seriously.

“And you need new bifocals,” Kate quipped.

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m not wearing any.”

The mood in the cabin became instantly charged with electricity as Kate looked at him. She was saved from responding by the arrival of Lauren, the flight attendant, who told them to ready for takeoff. Once they were airborne, she took their drink orders.

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” he told her quietly.

“As a matter of fact, you did.”

“I was merely stating the obvious.” He toyed with a sheet of paper on the table before telling her bluntly, “I’m sure I’m not the first man to ever compliment you on your looks.”

“You’re not,” she replied, trying to search for the right words, “it’s just that I’m not used to your – candor – if that’s the right word for it. It’s been a long time since I’ve let a man--”

“I’ve been known to tell it like it is,” he admitted sheepishly.

“That’s a trait both you and Marcus have in common.” Kate immediately wished she could take back her words. This certainly wasn’t the time to be mentioning Marcus. “Sorry.”

“For what?” he asked. “Bringing up your husband? It doesn’t bother me.”

Nevertheless, she changed the subject. “You look exhausted.”

“I am,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been having my share of problems the last few days.”

“So I heard.”

He shrugged. “Not to worry. Anyway, all I need is a few hours of sleep and I’ll be as good as new.”

“Good to see you’re so resilient,” she joked.

When Lauren returned with their drinks, he took a thirsty swallow of his light beer. “I’ve made an appointment at the Shaw Gallery for eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’m at your disposal this weekend. I’ve also brought some digital photographs of the front foyer. They might be helpful tomorrow at the gallery.”

“Good thinking,” Paul told her approvingly. “I’m glad one of us had the presence of mind to think of it.”

“Judging by your globetrotting schedule, I’m surprised you even know which city you’re waking up in,” Kate remarked dryly.

“It helps to have good people around you,” he told her.

“Like Darryl,” she supplied automatically.

“Yes, like Darryl,” he agreed with a lopsided grin. “Lately, though, I’ve been giving some thought to scaling back on my work schedule.”

“Work is rewarding but pursuing those things you’re most interested in is far more rewarding.”

He gave her a measured look. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They spent the next hour in companionable silence. Paul did some of the paperwork he had brought with him while Kate scanned a few of the magazines Lauren had thoughtfully provided. At some point, she looked up to find Paul’s head resting against the back of his seat. His eyes were closed and judging from his even breathing, Kate could tell he was fast asleep. Despite her better judgment, she was drawn to his face. Paul’s face was relaxed in repose, his long lashes fanned out against his cheeks and the lines around his mouth and eyes had softened, making him look younger, more vulnerable somehow. As if sensing her scrutiny, Paul’s eyes opened, and Kate’s heart did a little flip flop.

“Why are you looking at me?” he asked softly. “Was I snoring?”

“Of course not,” she denied.

I don’t usually doze off when I’m in the company of a delightful woman.”

“Nice save,” Kate teased before rewarding him with a smile.

Their eyes met and held; their connection finally broken when their pilot announced their descent into the San Francisco Bay area.

***

“What’s up with you and Ashley?” asked Heather Markham, coming up to Karen as she was collecting her books from her locker.

“What are you talking about?” asked Karen in annoyance. “There’s nothing up with us.”

“Then why is Ashley going around telling everybody what a total write-off your boyfriend’s party was?”

“Ashley hasn’t been here,” Karen snapped at her. She was appalled to think that her best friend would backstab her like that. Sure, Ashley had been AWOL from school since the party, but Karen figured she was taking some time off.

“Have you ever heard of a phone?” asked Heather smugly.

“I still don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself.” Heather shrugged, pretending not to care. “But she also told me that her dad wants to sue Albatross Records for what happened.”

Karen slammed her locker door shut and began walking down the hall towards the student parking lot. “If this is your lame-assed way of trying to find out what happened at Josh’s party, I’m not falling for it. Besides, you’ve been pissed at Ashley ever since you found out her nose cost more than your boobs.”

“Whatever.” Heather followed Karen out to the parking lot. Her SUV was parked beside Karen’s Beemer. “All I can say is that you’d better watch your back.”

Karen was getting tired of the whole conversation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that her new nose job is going to need readjusting, thanks to that psycho-bitch friend of yours from Holly High that jumped her at the party,” explained Heather with feigned patience.

“Oh shit!” said Karen, leaning weakly against her car. “No wonder she hasn’t talked to me since the party. But part of that was Ashley’s fault, too.”

Heather ignored her comment. “Maybe Ashley’s thinking of getting back at you.”

“How?”

Heather shrugged, her 40C breast implants rising and falling with perfect precision. “Didn’t Ashley know your boyfriend before he met up with you?”

Karen frowned at her. “Yeah. So?”

“So, nothing.” Heather got into her car. “Just watch your back, is all.”

Karen held on to Heather’s car door to prevent her from closing it. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach. “Are you trying to tell me that Ashley is going to go after
my
boyfriend just because she got punched in the face?”