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Kris finishes her salad. I rip a roll apart.
“Have you considered moving over to Isis?” Kris leans back in the booth, deftly changing the subject. “In my opinion, you should get rid of Thad. They’ll take good care of you. It’s the fastest-growing agency because they do the best work.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to mix business with pleasure.”
“Bullshit. Pardon my language, but I’m not good at sugar-coating things.” Kris takes out a compact and reapplies her lipstick. “I’m going to always tell it to you straight when you’re under my wing.”
This shocks me. “I’m under your wing?”
“Yes.” She nods. “I’ve got your back.”
I believe her.
Nothing is resolved when we leave. I’m left feeling confused. Hurt. A little betrayed. I’m trying hard to compartmentalize because I won’t speak to Joar until he lands in a few hours.
Retail therapy is the one thing that’s going to make me feel better right now.
For the next few hours, I wander Rodeo Drive. Mindlessly shopping in boutiques. Jewelry stores. Lingerie. I spend a small fortune on new designer stuff. On the way home, I stop by Target and buy loads of junk food. Cozy new loungewear. A bikini. A bunch of trinkets. Throw pillows. Candles.
Joar should be landing soon so I head back to WeHo. I turn my Mercedes up the winding Hollywood Hills road. I’m forced to pull over when three firetrucks and several police cars whiz past me. Up the way, I see smoke billowing.
Yikes. Someone’s house must be on fire.
I’m about to resume my drive when I notice my dashboard light up.
Joar.
As rattled as I feel, communication is key. I’m not going to play games. “Hey.”
“God, how can it be I miss you already?” His gravelly voice nearly breaks my heart.
I’m quiet as I decide what to say.
“Clover? Is something wrong?” He’s instantly serious.
“I had lunch with Kris Blakely today.” I pull back on the road and head toward home. It will be better to do this where I’m comfortable.
“Oh no, did something happen with the show?” He’s genuinely concerned. “Maybe I can do something.”
I pull around the corner and head up the steep hill. “No, the show’s good. She wants me to sign with Isis.”
“Aha! I knew I liked her.” He chuckles.
“She also told me you were still having me followed.” I make the final turn down the driveway. Omigod no! All the firetrucks and emergency responders are scattered around my house, which is thoroughly engulfed in flames. “Omigod JJ!” I scream. “My house is on fire.”
I park behind the emergency vehicles and instinctively run toward the front door. I have valuables. Collectibles. Photos.
A firefighter grabs me from behind. “Ma’am, you cannot go any closer. It’s too dangerous.”
Frantically, I whirl around and notice the hoses trained on my roof. Dozens of emergency workers are attempting to put out the inferno.
“Is anyone in there?” The firefighter who is restraining me asks. “Pets?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Go back to your car. Someone will be right with you to take a report. Do not, I repeat, do not come any closer.” He points me back to the car and gets on the radio.
When I slide back into the front seat, Joar is screaming my name. “Clover. Clover. Sweetness. Don’t do this. Answer me. Please let me know you’re okay.”
