Page 116 of The Contract Marriage

Chapter Forty-Eight

Olivia

I stare at the ridiculous trefoil-embossed birthday invitation from Ted Lasker, movie producer extraordinaire. Even though everyone knows when his annual party takes place, he always sends them out a week before the event, like a test of who considers him important enough to drop everything and attend.

I don’t usually go, but it seems like the thing to do this time. Not because I’m particularly fond of the man’s parties—they’re usually wild, with lots of inappropriate antics. But he’s harmless, and he invites everyone who’s anyone. There’s a possibility that he might invite Liam.

I stare at the invitation for a moment, then text his assistant.

–Me: Is Ted inviting Liam Kingswood to his party as well?

A few seconds later, a text arrives.

–Joey: Does this mean you’ll be attending this year’s party? Ted misses you, you know. He was very fond of your mother and he has lots of goodwill toward you, which you may not realize the value of. You shouldn’t squander it by ignoring his birthdays. Who knows, he might even cast you in his next movie! And make you a star!

I shudder. Like I ever want to be a movie star. It would be hellish—paraded around in public, every action and word analyzed and judged.

–Me: I’m thinking of going, but I’m curious if Liam Kingswood will be there as well.

–Joey: Well, he was invited, so OF COURSE HE’S COMING. I told him it would be a great opportunity to get to know Ted even better. Everybody who matters will be there and they’ll all love his diamonds. Well, not as much as Ted because nothing is more amazing than him. And lucky for Liam, AND YOU, the party’s free—Ted is paying for everything, as usual, because he’s just that kind of person.

Yeah, the kind of person you butt-lick every hour. I always thought people exaggerated how much Joey fawns over Ted, but apparently they were right.

–Me: Please thank Ted for his generosity. I’ll be there.

Ted’s party is massive and not the best place for any sort of serious private conversation, but at least I’ll be able to see Liam. He’s been impossible to reach in the last two weeks. I’m no longer able to access the back office at Kingswood Stones & Designs. I’m self-exiled from his house. And I can’t just barge into his brothers’ homes either, not that they’re talking. Frederich, of course, remains mum about Liam, except to say that he’s doing fine. Understandable—his loyalty is with Liam. I don’t want to put the poor man in a difficult position, caught between me and the Kingswoods.

No light makeup or the white dress like before. Ted’s invitation specifically says wear bathing suits—bikinis for women. Mom never took me to his parties, although I’m certain she went to one or two to maintain her friendship with him. The man’s a bit self-centered, as successful Hollywood types tend to be, but apparently he can be generous and useful because he likes to be nice to people who make him feel good about himself. At least my fuzzy memories of him are mostly positive, so he’s probably all right.

Saturday comes, and I head over to the party, a black bikini underneath a red sundress. I inhale deeply—a woman on the mission of her life.

I arrive exactly half an hour later than the time specified on the invitation. Every top European car maker is represented in the carports and streets. Ivory walls shine under the bright SoCal sun, and way too many turrets soar from the roof, like some kind of misplaced medieval castle. The mansion is shaking with music and roars of laughter. My mouth tightens. It’s much worse than I expected. How am I going to find Liam in the crowd? And how are we going to talk? We’d have to yell to be heard over the pounding beat and laughing shrieks.

Joey stands at the entrance with a tablet and the posture of a Praetorian guard. He’s still the same—looking like a poor genetic mishmash of navel orange and semi-intelligent primate from another epoch. His flaming orange hair stands straight from excessive gel above a giant forehead that shines like he waxes it every morning. His murky mossy eyes are wide and unblinking, burning with a zealous desire to shoot down anybody beneath his boss’s notice.

“No party crashing by D-listers.” He wags his finger as he turns away a trio of men he deems unworthy of setting foot in Ted’s vaunted party. Bet if they’d been hot women, they would’ve been allowed in.

“Oh my God!” Joey says the second he notices me. “Olivia Desmond, in the flesh! You’ve ignored our invitations for the last ten years! It’s been breaking Ted’s heart! Ted still loves your mother, you know. He would’ve married her if that horrible man hadn’t snatched her first. But don’t worry, nobody worth their salt associates with Hugh.”

I ignore his ridiculous lies about Ted’s romantic intentions toward my mom. The only person Ted ever wanted to marry was Ted. “I know, and I apologize. I was busy with school, and then work.”

“Oh? Hugh letting you run the show now?”

I scoff. “No. And stop fishing for information.” I hand him a nicely wrapped box. “Here. For Ted.”

Joey brightens instantly. “Thanks. He’ll love this. What is it?”

“Nope. For Ted’s eyes only.” I lean closer, watching his Adam’s apple bob. “Thanks for the invitation, though. It’s about time I expanded my network.” I lay it on thick to hide that I’m here just for Liam. Ted might laugh it off, but Joey could turn petty.

I walk inside the mansion. The black-and-white squares spread out like a chessboard through the foyer. I’m certain Ted doesn’t play, though. No patience for it. A few impeccably polished medieval knights and alabaster horse heads dot the walls, probably props from one of his movies. He said in an interview once that he keeps some of them like trophies “to relive the creative brilliance.”

The bass from outside thunders through the house. Shrieks come from the pool. I step out and duck to avoid a popped red balloon flying in my direction.

“Sorry!” a girl says in a voice that says she’s anything but. Then she giggles.

I start to stride past her, but a guy stops me. “Wait, you gotta hit this first before you can go in.”

I stare at two huge salmon-colored balls attached to an enormous flesh-colored cannon that’s shaped to look like…an erect penis. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”