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“I wondered what that runway was for.”
“There’s your answer. It will bring some real pizzazz to the party. Are you and your dad coming?”
“Absolutely. The rumor mill is saying this will be the party of the summer, though that doesn’t make much sense considering we’re going into fall,” she added, “but regardless, that’s the buzz around Malibu.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I hope the buzz is right. It’s sure costing enough. Anyway, why did you want to see me?”
“Um, actually,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “it’s private. Can we go somewhere else, somewhere we won’t be interrupted?”
“Sure. I need to get something from my den anyway,” he said, putting down the clipboard. “Come with me.”
She followed him through the hustle and bustle in the kitchen and living room, then down a wide hallway to the door at the end. As he ushered her inside, she caught her breath. Beneath high, coffered ceilings and surrounded by cherry wood paneled walls, a cream leather sofa and wing backed chairs were grouped around a floor-to-ceiling slate rock fireplace. Nearby, a carved, antique cabinet holding a large screen television stood tall and proud, like a sentry guarding the room.
“Matt, this is amazing, and the acoustics, the way my voice sort of echoes, I absolutely love it.”
“Thanks. I come here when I want to shut out the world and think. Now tell me, Heather, what’s up?”
“Can you please sit down,” she asked, summoning her courage.
Though she’d seen him groveling at Stella’s feet, as he stared down at her there was nothing weak about him. On the contrary, he was intimidating.
“Sure,” he said, moving to the couch and settling in.
“It’s like this,” she began nervously. “I know about you and—uh—Marilyn.”
“And...?” he said without blinking an eye.
His unwavering response took her by surprise. He seemed completely relaxed. Worse, the hint of a smile began curling his lips.
“I know what you do with her, I saw you. I want something. If you give it to me I won’t tell anyone. Like—the tabloids.”
Still he didn’t react.
“I mean it, Matt!”
“First, tell me precisely what you’re talking about, then what you want.”
“She was a dressed in an outlandish red outfit, and you were on your hands and knees.”
“Where were we?”
“Your bedroom.”
“How were you able to look into my bedroom?”
“I—uh—I snuck up the stairs. I wanted to see what you two were doing together,” she admitted, hating the red blush she could feel crawling across her face.
“Because...?”
“Because I’m dating Tony Verdi and I think she might be too. I wanted to know why she was here. I thought it might—I don’t know—help me with him somehow. But that’s not the point.”
“What is you want for your discretion?”
“To sing at your party.”
“Sing?”
