Blind Item(7)

“Thanks, babe.” She smiled and shook his hand. He clicked off some final frames. “Call me.”

“Are we headed to the home address now, miss?” the Uber driver asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Kara, slumping back into her seat. “Actually, no. Change of plans. Take me to Pavilions market. Mama needs doughnuts.”





CHAPTER 3

AFTER LOSING COURTNEY, NICOLA HAD walked into the kitchen, where a staff of women were prepping food, cleaning dishes, and attempting to corral a menagerie of small dogs trying to escape from a child’s playpen in the corner.

The kitchen was normally where she hung out during parties, but this one was way too busy. Fuck. Nicola suddenly really needed to nervous pee. She looked around and saw, miraculously, what appeared to be a bathroom door with no line. She walked over and gingerly turned the handle.

It rotated easily and the door swung open, revealing one of her childhood idols, a sitcom actor from the nineties, her first crush. His arm was tied off and he was injecting heroin into a vein in his arm. He released the tourniquet from around his arm, looked up into her eyes, and asked dreamily, “Don’t you people ever fucking knock?”

Nicola slammed the door closed and stood there, a little bit shocked, but a little bit more appalled.

The bathroom door opened again and the nineties star stood there, holding the door open for Nicola as he wobbled on his feet.

“Be my guest,” he slurred before stumbling off.

It was going to be a long night.

Needing another drink, she wandered back out toward the bar. Amber’s hit, “Hot Connection,” was still playing in an apparently endless loop. As Nicola neared the laser-lit ice, a woman with a Louise Brooks bob and black leather minidress gently grabbed her arm.

“Hey, you wanna sign Amber’s card?” she drawled, purring like a cat and shoving a Sharpie into Nicola’s hand.

“Uh, sure, where’s the card?”

The woman nodded at a five-foot-tall, extremely retouched photo of the former child star. Per usual, Amber was playing against her once innocent image, straddling a huge bottle of champagne with a cork popping suggestively between her legs, creating a champagne money shot. Nicola raised one eyebrow as she looked at the monstrosity. People had scribbled birthday greetings all over the board-mounted photo.

She handed the Sharpie back to the woman.

“It’s okay; I don’t really know her,” Nicola said with a smile. “She’s not going to want to see my name on there.”

“Gurl,” sighed the woman, refusing to take back the marker, “just write. She’s not going to recognize any of those names, but it’s gonna make her feel real fuckin’ popular. Now write your damn name.”

Nicola sought out the smallest space she could find, tucked in between champagne bottle and caramel-smooth thigh, and wrote “Happy birthday to the most beautiful girl in Hollywood, love Gaynor and Nicola, HHPR xoxo.”

The pen woman was still rolling her eyes at Nicola’s inscription as the pen was forced back into her hand.

“Your eyes will get stuck like that,” Nicola snapped, startling the pen woman. Feeling satisfied that her mother’s threats still worked on others, she headed to the bar.

She had the feeling that everyone was looking at her. Looking around, she saw it was true. Confused, she spun around to see if something was behind her, and bumped her boobs into Seamus.

“So you found me again,” he said with a laugh, brushing off his untucked blue chambray shirt.

“I … uh … yeah, here I am,” Nicola said as coolly as she could.

“Let’s try this again. I’m Seamus,” he said, wriggling the hand that he had been holding in front of her. “Please properly shake my hand.” His Scottish brogue made all of his words sound cushioned. In soft, sexy velvet cushions.

“Oh, yes.” Nicola snapped back to reality and took his hand, pumping it up and down like a Realtor. “I’m Nicola.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you at last. It feels like it took a lot longer than it should have. I see you need a new drink. Would you be so kind as to wait here while I get some for us?”

Seamus turned to the bar, and Nicola cursed herself for being unable to resist checking out his butt—the one that routinely made the best ass lists—and sighed. It truly was an ass of beauty.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Seamus was completely oblivious to the stares of everyone he passed, and all the surreptitious cell phone photos. He moved like a shark, not noticing the remoras around him.

“Cheers,” he said when he returned, clinking his drink against hers.

“Cheers to you, too,” smiled Nicola.