Money (The Keatyn Chronicles, #10)

“She what?”


“You didn’t know?”

“No. Oh my gosh. No wonder she took the miscarriage so hard. I thought it was because of Bam’s cheating but—oh, it all makes more sense now.”

“Don’t tell her I told you. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to betray her confidence. I assumed since you are best friends that you knew.”

“I won’t tell her, Dawes. So, back to your new job. I guess the first question is, would you be interested in being the CEO of a smaller, more nimble Captive Films?”

“I definitely would be.”

“Good to hear. I should also mention that when this deal goes through, all of our employee stock in the company will vest and be paid out. If you recall, you received numerous shares as a sign-on bonus. I don’t know if you would be interested, but if you would like to use those funds to buy into the new Captive, we’d love to take you on as a partner.”

“Who all is investing? Will you still have a board to report to?”

“The investors are me, Riley, Dallas, and Knox. There won’t be an outside board of directors. Basically, the plan is for you and Dallas and, hopefully, Tyler, to run the business with a small staff. We’ll outsource anything else. We expect Daddy’s Angel to be huge, and the project Knox and I will do next could win Captive its first Oscar. So what do you think?”

“Providing Ava agrees to come to school out here, I’m in.”

“Anything I can do to help with that?”

“What do girls her age want?”

“When we were all up at the vineyard, she told Fallon that you won’t let her wear makeup. I remember RiAnne saying it was a really big deal for Fallon this year.”

“She’s too young to wear makeup!”

“She doesn’t want to wear a face full. Just tinted lip gloss and a little clear mascara.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s what Fallon wears to school.”

“Makeup? Could it be that simple?”

“Probably. Good luck.”





I text Ava, knowing she has Wi-Fi on the plane.





Me: I don’t know how you feel about this, but Keatyn told me that in L.A. girls your age get to wear a little bit of makeup to school. Just a little. Like some of that lip stuff and a little mascara. You know I won’t let you wear it now, but if you come to school here, I’ve decided you can.





Ava: Are you joking? Like, are you laughing out loud right now?





Me: No.





Ava: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Me: What does that mean?





Ava: Just so I’m clear—we’re talking black mascara, lipstick, blush, and glitter powder?





Me: Clear mascara, lip gloss, and glitter powder. I’ll even throw in Instagram.





Ava: Really? Um, how about clear mascara, lip gloss, glitter powder, Instagram, and Snapchat?





Me: Instagram only and you have a deal.





Ava: Then I’d like to move to California with you and go to the school we visited. (And I might want to adopt a pony too.)





Me: Don’t push your luck.





Ava: I love you, Daddy.





Me: I love you too, Ave.





Shelby’s Bungalow - Sunset Boulevard

SHELBY





I plop down on the couch in my hillside bungalow and call my former roommate. “Marcy, you’re never going to believe where I am.”

“I know where I am. At work.”

“You have to get off and come over here.”

“Where are you? Let me guess. Sugar Daddy kicked you out, and you need my help?”

“Nope. I’m sitting in a hillside bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. It’s where I will be living for the next month. Go home, put on the classiest thing you own, and get over here. There are rich men everywhere! You can meet one. And I worked with a personal shopper today and got a shit ton of fancy clothes, not to mention getting my hair and makeup done. You probably won’t even recognize me. I look totally classy.”

“You looked pretty for those premieres.”

“Yeah, but not like this. I look like a lady. I look like I belong here.”

“Reality check, Shelby. In a month, he’s going to find out he’s not your baby daddy, and you’re going to be out on your ass. Then what are you going to do?”

“Get your ass over here, and I’ll tell you all the dirty details. Because after last night, there’s no way he’s kicking me out.”





I see my personal butler point Marcy in my direction poolside, where I’m sitting in the shade wearing a black one-piece swimsuit with a long, sheer cover-up and oversized Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses.

She walks right by me.

I grin to myself as she takes another lap.

When she comes back by me again, I discreetly say her name.

She turns and looks at me in shock, slowly sitting down.

“Your hair! What did they do to it?”

“The stylist said I shouldn’t be bleaching. That my natural honey color is more flattering. What do you think?”

“You look like a Kardashian!”