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“Yep. As luck would have it, Ronni Miller’s new series is filming at our facility in Canada.” I waggle my eyebrows. My company owns J&M Studios, a multimillion-dollar production facility just outside of Vancouver, BC. If Clover Callahan thinks she’s going to escape unscathed, she’s got another thing coming.
“Good call. Finklestein put this entire company at risk with his shady dealings. If his ex-wife is part of it, we’ve got to know.” Seth nods.
I scroll further through her Instagram feed. The gorgeous woman gives off a decidedly girl-next-door vibe but has a body of a burlesque dancer. It’s easy to understand why Finklestein married her. “The team needs a few months to complete the audit. After I check on things in London, I’ll head to Vancouver BC. Will you arrange for a P.I. in the meantime? I want to know her every move.”
“No problem.” Seth winks at me. “She seems to like rich men. Maybe there’s one more way to stick the knife in.”
I tap her picture with my finger. “Nah. I don’t think it’s wise to go there with this one. But, maybe I’ll change my mind once I’ve met her.”
A smile emerges for the first time in a few days.
I’m no angel. She’s definitely someone I’d ordinarily hit up.
Who knows? Maybe this part of Finklestein’s takedown will be even more fun than I originally thought.
Chapter three
Clover
One Week Later
I love Vancouver, BC.
Until we started rehearsals a few weeks ago, regretfully, I’d never been in Canada, let alone British Columbia. It’s my loss. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was somewhere in Europe. There’s a vibe here. A very cool vibe.
Not to mention there’s so much to do.
The city is filled with skyscrapers but is sparkling clean. Cosmopolitan. People are chic and always moving fast. The shops are upscale but also quirky. World-class restaurants abound. I’m not super outdoorsy, but even I’ve biked around Stanley Park. Spent an afternoon or two at the Granville Island Public Market.
Don’t even get me started on how stunning the setting is. The city is essentially built on an island in between Vancouver Harbor and English Bay. Everywhere you look has spectacular panoramic water views. The North Shore Mountains overlook the city, providing a dramatic backdrop to the gleaming high-rises.
The surrounding areas are just as magnificent. Before we started shooting, I tagged along to the Whistler ski resort with Ronni, her husband Connor, their twins, and nanny. I didn’t ski, but sure enjoyed the hell out of shopping for cozy sweaters, stocking up on maple syrup, and drinking artisan hot chocolate.
Who knew that was even a thing?
The downside—and it’s a big one—is how much it freakin’ rains. My God, it’s a relentless gray drizzle some days. Almost like you’re in the middle of a cloud that’s constantly leaking.
Not today though. It’s nearly sixty degrees and sunny. Considering it’s my only day off for the next two weeks, this morning I took a long walk along the waterfront. Now it’s time to day drink and get some dating advice from my self-appointed gay husband, Paxton Price.
I’m waiting for him at the Coal Harbor Cactus Club, sipping on their signature bellini drink, a frozen concoction of rum, peach schnapps, sparkling wine, peaches, and sangria. My God, it’s so delicious. And dangerous. Two or three of these and I’ll be hammered.
Hmmm. Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing. I’m determined to lean into my new single-life and live each day to the fullest. I’ve never been naked wasted before. This afternoon is as good a time as any.
“Clover. There you are.” Pax, as stylish as can be in black slacks and a gray sweater, swoops into the room and sits next to me at the bar. He points at my drink and gestures to the bartender. “I’ll take one of these.”
Quickly, I slurp the last bit of slushy goodness from my martini glass and blurt out, “Me too.”
“Easy, girl.” Pax shakes his head. “If we’re going to be BFFs, you’ve got to let me catch up.”
Pax is Ronni’s personal assistant. I met him on set and he and I hit it off immediately. I’ve been nervous about putting myself out there, so he promised to help me with a dating plan. I’m ready to get my groove back. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve had sex, and my hoo-ha is getting dusty.
“I’ll sip this one slowly,” I promise as the bartender sets the drinks in front of us.
“Okay, spill. Why the hell have you been celibate for a year?“ Pax rests his chin on his palm.
I sigh, regretful I told him such private information last week. He won’t let it go. “Cheating husband. Disintegration of my friendship. Loss of my so-called friends after the divorce. Working on myself. Rebuilding. Blah. Blah. Blah.“ I wave my hand in the air.
“Nope. Those are cliches, not reasons. Try again.“ Pax narrows his eyes.
