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“I’m a goddamn cliché,” she muttered, climbing into her Mercedes.
Poor little rich girl with nothing to do.
Boo-fucking-hoo.
Kris wished her friend Farrah, whom she met in Shanghai during study abroad, were here so they could hang out. Farrah lived in L.A., but she was interning in New York this summer along with their other study abroad friends, Olivia Tang and Sammy Yu.
Kris knew a handful of other people in the city, mostly celebrity offspring who frequented the same jet-set resorts as the Carreras, but she didn’t feel like hitting any of them up. Teague was the only one she could stand, and he always spent his summers surfing it up in Hawaii or the South Pacific.
After a moment of deliberation, she drove east toward La Brea. Less than half an hour later, she arrived at a two-story office building that housed a dentist’s office, Chase bank, and Allstate insurance branch, among other businesses. It was so bland and suburban it depressed the hell out of her.
Kris killed the engine and got out of the car. It was only when she tried to open the locked building door that she realized it was Sunday, which meant no one was working.
She groaned. “I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t be so harsh on yourself.”
Kris spun around, ready to pepper spray the shit out of whoever was behind her, but relaxed when she saw Susan’s twinkling eyes and warm smile.
“What are you doing here?” Kris demanded. “It’s Sunday.”
Susan arched an eyebrow. She wore a pair of old jeans and a yellow T-shirt that had seen better days, and she carried a large cardboard box of what looked like craft supplies. “I could ask you the same thing.”
If Kris were the blushing type, she’d be beet-red. “I mixed the days up. I thought it was Monday.”
“I see.” Susan was too nice to call her out, but her knowing glance showed she saw through Kris’s blatant lie. For one, Kris usually showed up in the early evenings since she had to work during the day, and it was barely past lunchtime. “While you’re here, would you be a dear and open the door for me?” She pointed her chin toward the key card dangling from her fingertips.
Kris took the card, waved it in front of the building’s electronic pad, and held the door once it buzzed open. She followed Susan to MentHer’s office in the back, feeling somewhat like a daughter tagging along with her mother to work.
Not that Kris would know what that felt like. Her mother had abandoned her and her dad when Kris was two.
Perhaps that was why Kris had been drawn to the MentHer flyer she saw at Alchemy two weeks ago. MentHer was a nonprofit for girls who’d lost their moms, and it offered events, mentorship, and virtual programming for girls up to the age of twenty-two.
At twenty-one, Kris was too young to be a mentor—not that she would’ve signed up for the role even if she met the age requirements. She preferred her charitable contributions in the form of checks, thank you very much. She also had zero desire to be mentored herself. Kris had done just fine growing up without a mom. She’d figured out the whole period thing, never had her heart broken, and possessed kick-ass makeup and styling skills.
However, some weird part of her had compelled her to take one of the flyers and show up at MentHer the day after, offering her volunteer services. Help with events, office work, that sort of thing. It made no fucking sense. Krishatedoffice work. She had to deal with enough of that bull in her day job. Contrary to what she’d thought, working for Bobbi Rayden was less red-carpet parties and more tracking media mentions of Bobbi’s high-profile clients. It was a total snooze fest.
Susan flipped on the lights, illuminating the empty front desk and threadbare navy carpet. They bypassed the reception area and beelined to the back, where motivational posters and pictures of mentors and mentees at various outings papered the orange walls.
“So.” Susan set the cardboard box on a table and surveyed Kris with intelligent eyes. “Do you want to help me sort the supplies for next week’s group activity, or do you want to share why you’re really here on a Sunday afternoon?”
Kris scowled. She liked Susan, who’d quit her job in movie production and taken up her new calling as the founder of MentHer four years ago, but she didn’t like herthatmuch. Plus, Kris wasn’t sure why, exactly, she was here on a Sunday when she could be flirting with cute guys at Chateau Marmont.
“Sort supplies.” Kris pushed a thick lock of hair out of her eyes. She’d dyed her naturally black locks an overall dark brown and layered them with multidimensional chocolate and caramel balayage highlights. Thank God she’d found a stylist in L.A. who could do her Seattle hairdresser’s work justice.
Susan’s lips curved into a wry smile. “All right then.”
They worked in silence for the next few hours. It didn’t take long to sort the supplies, but Susan also needed help planning MentHer’s annual summer gala in August. Kris gladly pitched in—she enjoyed event planning and had helped her father organize dozens of charity events in the past. MentHer’s budget wasn’t exactly on the same level as the charity balls that charged $5,000 per plate, but a little creativity went a long way.
“Why are you doing this on a weekend?” Kris scribbled a list of theme ideas for the gala on a yellow legal pad.Disney. Secret garden. Nautical.Nothing exciting, but they accommodated the mentees’ wide age range. “I thought event planning was Melinda’s job.”
“I don’t mind. When you love something, it doesn’t feel like work.” Susan’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “I appreciate you staying, though, when you could be off breaking some poor boy’s heart instead.”
Kris brushed off the other woman’s teasing. “Please. Boys are more trouble than they’re worth.”
Nate’s image flashed through her mindagain,like an annoying gnat that wouldn’t go away, and she brushed it aside with no small amount of irritation.
“Most aren’t,” Susan agreed. “But wait till you find the one you’re willing to go through hell and back for.”
