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“Better not be one of those sad bowls full of horse food.”
“I thought you liked quinoa now?”
The most noncommittal sound in the world blew over the phone line.
When Rhea hung up, she had completely lost her place in her manuscript.If it’s not one man bothering me, it’s another.Difference between the two, though, was that she loved her dad – and he was also the one who had survived a mild heart attack in recent weeks.Not what I wanted to wake up and hear one spring day.Danny had been so gung-ho about taking care of himself that his only daughter didn’t find out about the heart attack until he was out of the ICU and suddenly thought,“Suppose someone should tell Rhiannon.”
Because that was the name spoken over the phone when someone at the hospital called. Rhea had made such a face at the breakfast table that Paige immediately knew something was wrong. Rhea only held such a disgusted countenance when someone used her legal name.
Would’ve been one thing if Ihadn’tbeen named after a famous song…
“Rhia” had been her nickname growing up, and by the time she went off to college, Rhea had officially started going by the current spelling. It had felt right – and poignant – after moving on from her mother’s death. It wasn’t until long after her marriage, that Rhea learned her name came from not only her mother’s love of Fleetwood Mac but that it had been the first song she and Danny danced to at their wedding.
Oh, well. Rhea had moved on.
She texted Paige a reminder that they were having dinner in Malibu in a couple of days. Paige texted back that she would be late again that night because of an accident on The 10.“It’s Memorial Day. Shouldn’t everyone be OUT OF TOWN?”Paige had texted.
Funny. Rhea could have easily asked,“Shouldn’t you be at home on a holiday?”
Paige would work Thanksgiving and Christmas if she could get away with it. Not only because those holidays meant little to her, but because it was when many celebrities had enough time off to hit the gym.
Rhea turned toward her computer screen. After waking up the device, she encountered a large, blank page in her word processor.
Only a few thousand words to go.She was on the home stretch. After that, she could relax.
Chapter 3
Paigeonlyhadoneday off those past two weeks.I can’t do this anymore. Am I officially old?Such thoughts plagued a woman who was “healthier” than most in her circles.Certainly healthier than my own wife…Yet if it wasn’t for Rhea’s sweet tooth, Paige would completely forget what a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie tasted like.
It was life’s simple pleasures that made it worth it, right?
She had hoped to use her day off on Wednesday as an excuse to lounge on the couch or float in the pool with her favorite water flavor. Maybe read a book. Laundry? She had never heard of it. Instead, she was due at her father-in-law’s house for takeout. Since he was eating healthy after a heart attack, that meant going out of their way to grab quinoa and black bean bowls. Paige’s had extra avocado, and Rhea piled hers with cilantro.
Danny went down fighting when they walked through the door of his modest Malibu home, though. The man wanted hamburgers. Hell, he would taketurkeyburgers if his daughter and the “health freak” wife insisted on it. Honestly? Paige didn’t care. Her relationship with her father-in-law was so tenuous that she would let him eat whatever he wanted if it kept him quiet.
Yet Rhea was invested in her father’s long-term health, which meant going along with yet another black bean quinoa bowl.
I just want a nap.Paige attempted stealing one on the couch while Rhea and Danny watched TV, but the noise from rerunsandthe street proved too much. Paige was trapped between barely being awake enough to participate in the world and falling asleep where she sat.
Yet the week trudged on. There was more work to be done at the gym, and more things going on at home.
Like on Friday night, when Paige came home half an hour early so she could get started on dinner for a gathering Rhea hosted. Paige didn’t usually mind cooking, especially since one of the friends was vegetarian and Paige knew how to whip up such meals that left everyone wanting leftovers. The deal, which included Rhea buying all the groceries and setting up the party, had been made before Memorial Day weekend. Paige came home, fueled by an energy drink, only to discover how much she wanted to crash on the couch once she was slicing and dicing vegetables in the kitchen.
It didn’t help that the guests arrived early, either.
“You’ll never guess who we’re about to sign!” Such a loud voice that dominated any room could only have belonged to Jocelyn Greer, one of Rhea’s friends and an old schoolmate from Catholic boarding school. Paige did not begrudge the woman in Gucci sunglasses who tossed her linen shirt over the back of a dining table and walked around the house in voluminous trousers and a bare midriff. Jocie was responsible for half of the clients that had been the backbone of Paige’s business. “Freakin’ T.J. Wright!”
Nobody in Paige’s house followed sports, which was Jocie’s wheelhouse. Yet Rhea politely asked, “Who’s that?”
“Only the MVP for UCLA basketball this past season. The man was one of the players to watch out for during March Madness.” Jocie joined Paige in the kitchen, careful to stay out of the way of the chef’s knife currently cutting cucumbers. “He’s about to sign withmyagency. You know what this means, right, Paige?”
The woman in question allowed one fine eyebrow to arch across her head. Otherwise, she might lose her concentration with such a sharp knife in her hand. “Thinking about having him train at my gym?”
Jocie lightly smacked the kitchen counter. “Itisthe best one around Hollywood. Although if one of the guys has to train T.J., I am not opposed.”
“I think Graham might have an opening coming up once one of the Chrises is done training for his movie.”
“‘One of the Chrises.’ Listen to you. From Podunk neighborhood gym to training ground of the stars. You’ve come far in a few years.”
