Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I’ve never been one to duck and hide when troubles arise, but these past few days have reminded me of what life before fame had been like. It brings back memories of growing up in Ohio, of being able to take a girl out without it winding up in the tabloids, of being able to sing along to the Beach Boys without a sound bite popping up on the Internet. I want to hold on to this unburdened feeling for as long as I can, to think about someone other than myself for a while. I don’t know where it is all heading, but for the moment I need to be around her. Need that feeling of being a regular person.
But it pisses me off to see her driving herself to the point of exhaustion. I like her. Fuck, I like her a lot. And what I don’t like is seeing someone I like wasting her life away. I feel compelled to do something, but how the hell can I break down Maggie’s impenetrable devotion to her job and her annoying tendency to choose responsibility over fun?
I stand in the shower for a moment, letting the water course down my body, and then the answer comes to me.
With a grin, I shut off the water and step onto the fluffy pink bathmat. I wrap a towel around my waist and head for Maggie’s bedroom, where I sit at the edge of the bed and do a quick search on my phone. Once I find the number, I glance over to make sure I closed the door and then dial.
“The Olive Martini. Trisha speaking.”
“Trisha, hey.” I lower my voice, check the door again, and say, “I’m calling about Maggie Reilly.”
“Who is this?” The voice on the other end thickens with suspicion.
I falter for a moment before responding with, “My name’s Tony, and—”
“Tony? Oh my God! I didn’t recognize your voice.”
Shit. I hadn’t banked on any of the other wait staff knowing the infamous Tony.
“Uh, I’m trying to speak quietly. Maggie’s in the other room and I don’t want her to overhear.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, how are you doing? What’s up?”
“I’m doing great, Trish.” I really hope Tony calls her Trish. Sounds like a Tony thing to do. “How’s life treating ya?”
“Can’t complain. Actually, I’m lying. Life would be a lot better if I wasn’t spending my Friday night serving a bunch of rude theater snobs.”
I chuckle. “Doesn’t sound like fun,” I agree. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is—”
“You said it was about Maggie?”
“It is.” I send another covert look to the door. “Trish. I need you to do me a really big favor…”
18
Maggie
“I want to take you on a trip.”
My head snaps up, not so much from Ben’s sudden reappearance but because of his random declaration. He approaches the couch, clad in a pair of jeans and a navy-blue long-sleeved shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. His jaw is tight and his mouth is set in a firm line, as if he came out here expecting a fight and is prepared to win it.
His words hang in the air. A trip? Hadn’t he listened to a word I said ten minutes ago?
“I don’t have time to take—”
“I’m not talking a week-long vacation,” he interrupts, catching the disbelief in my eyes. “I’m talking one night. Well, two, since we’d leave tonight and come back Saturday morning.”
“I’m working tomorrow.”
“So call in sick.” He offers a small shrug. “C’mon, babe, it’s just one shift.”
My jaw tenses at his flippant tone. “I can’t lie to my manager about being sick. That’s bad karma.”
“Maggie.”
“Ben.”
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. The secretive smile playing on his sexy lips tells me he’s up to something.
Before I can further analyze his sly expression, my phone rings. Grateful for the interruption, I lean over and grab it from the coffee table. Trisha’s name flashes on the screen, along with two new voicemails alerts. I’d turned off the ringer earlier because three irritating telemarketers had called one after the other.
“Hello?” I avoid eye contact with Ben as I press the phone to my ear.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Since Trisha rarely calls me, my guard instantly shoots up a few feet. “What’s up, Trish?”
“I need a favor—could you switch shifts with me? I’ll work for you tomorrow night if you do Saturday.”
Something is fishy, all right.
My head swivels in Ben’s direction, but he seems completely uninterested in my conversation.
Of course, he also happens to be an actor, so what he seems to be isn’t all that reliable.
“Why can’t you work Saturday?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.
“You won’t even believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Lou’s taking me to see a Broadway show!” Trisha replies in a bubbly voice. “And it was his idea. Isn’t that amazing?”
“What show?”
“Huh?”
“What show is he taking you to see?”
“The Puppeteer.”