“And then I spilled red wine on my favorite dress, and Trevor knew just how to rinse it out,” Brooke smiled. “I knew then he was a keeper.”
“Wait,” Brad says. “Was I at the party? How come I don’t remember any of this?”
“I’m pretty sure you were still sleeping off a bender from the night before,” Trevor says with a laugh. “One of those all-night parties with the gym crowd.”
“Oooh,” Lulu says in a coo that makes me cringe inside. She prods Brad’s bicep. “If drinking all night leaves you looking like this, forget moderation.”
Brad looks somehow oblivious to her flirting. “I’ve cut back since then,” he says, his voice in physical trainer mode. “Your body should be a temple.”
The main course arrives: a creamy salmon risotto. While I am dying and going to heaven over that, Lulu flutters her eyelashes again, but in a different direction this time.
“How about you?” she says, and I realize she’s aiming her “charms” at Will. “Were you around for the historic party?”
“I’m afraid I missed it,” Will says smoothly.
“There’s a 50/50 chance Will wasn’t even in the country,” Trevor says. “Lots of important places to be, right?” He nudges his friend.
“Ah,” Will says with a modest grin, “you know, I actually wish I hadn’t missed so much. But you’ve got to make some sacrifices when you’re chasing a dream.”
Maggie catches my eye and flicks her finger across her throat with an emphatically unimpressed expression. Kill me now. I smother a giggle, grateful for the reminder that romanticism and Will are not an ideal pairing. White wine and a Ruby who shouldn’t be thinking about that guy anyway, on the other hand? Pour me a little more of that.
I’m on my third glass and have managed not to glance Will’s way more than twice—okay, maybe it was three times—when Brooke pushes back her chair.
“Ladies room,” she says in explanation, and it occurs to me that my wine may be catching up with me too.
“I’ll go with you,” I said. Maggie and Lulu stand up with me. Okay, I guess we’re making this a party.
“What is it with women and group washroom trips?” Brad says, sounding bemused. “Is it like a lemur thing or something?”
Everyone else looks puzzled. “You mean lemmings?” Trevor says. “You’re not planning on jumping off any cliffs, are you?” he asks Brooke.
“No, honey, I promise.” She grins back and kisses him on the cheek before we go.
“Someone has to say it,” Maggie says as she leads the way past the washroom door. “You two are disgustingly cute.”
“It is kind of stomach-churning, isn’t it?” I say, and wink at Brooke.
When we’re finished our main business and adding a few dabs of lipstick in front of the mirror, Lulu turns to me.
“What’s up with you and that friend of Trevor’s—Will?”
My heart skips a beat. “Um, what?” I say, eloquent as always. Have I been so over the top in my attempts to avoid him that even Lulu has picked up on it?
“He’s been looking at you all evening,” Lulu says instead, with a huff that gives me the impression she’s been trying to direct those looks her way.
Behind her back, Brooke raises her eyebrows at me. I pull a confused face. It’s probably just the product of Lulu’s man-crazy imagination.
“I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything,” I say, and ignore the tiny voice inside of me that wants to mull over whether it actually might.
We’re just finishing dessert—the creamiest crème br?lée I’ve ever had the honor of sticking in my mouth—when my phone vibrates in my purse. I grab it and hit ignore, but Brooke has already noticed.
“You’re not going to answer that?” she says.
“It’s your wedding,” I say, pointing my spoon at her. “No work allowed!”
She laughs. “Don’t be silly. We’re here a whole week—I know better than to expect you to relax the entire time.”
I hesitate, and she taps me with her foot under the table. “Go on. If someone’s calling you while you’re here, it’s got to be important. The world doesn’t stop just because I’m getting married.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll try to make it quick.”
I hustle out of the restaurant and lean against the wall as I check my messages.
“Hello, Ms. Walters-san,” the woman on the voicemail says with a clipped Japanese accent. My heart leaps as she identifies herself. “We are so pleased to hear of your Miss Jackson’s interest in showcasing Sasumae soft drinks on her channel,” she goes on. “I look forward to discussing the matter further with you.”
One of the things you learn in the PR business is that there’s no telling how—or where—a bit is going to take off. My client Dionne Jackson, for example, has been struggling to get attention here in the US for her cosmetics videos even though her mastery of blending and contouring at twelve puts my makeup skills to shame. In Japan? They can’t get enough of her. She even changed her screen name to Kawaii Dionne after her fans coined the nickname.
I’ve been trying to leverage that popularity into a sponsorship deal for the last two months since I signed her. Looks like that work has paid off.
I give myself a brief moment to do a mostly internal happy dance, and then I call her back and get down to business.
“I’d be happy to discuss possible partnerships for Dionne,” I tell her, after we’ve done the chit-chat small-talk. “Did you have a compensation package in mind?”
Within a half an hour, I’ve scored Dionne a deal that’ll pay for college and a whole lot of makeup besides. Let no one say Ruby Walters is a pushover in a negotiation. When I get off the phone with her and her dad, my ear is still ringing from her shriek of excitement, but I’m grinning. I stride back into the restaurant, ready to offer Brooke another round of apologies and share my good news . . . and find it empty.
No, not quite empty. As I stall just inside the main doorway, Will walks out of the kitchen, discussing something with one of the servers.
He catches sight of me and makes one last comment to the guy before ambling over. “Everything okay?” he says.
“Yep,” I grin, still elated. “Major victory for Walters PR.”
He smiles, his eyes so intent on me that for a second I forget all about the mega-bucks deal I just struck. “You know, I never got around to telling you how good you’re looking tonight.”
The magic of the teal halter dress. I feel myself blush. “Pretty much anything is a step up from drenched rat, wouldn’t you say?”
Will chuckles. “I’m sure you have never remotely resembled a rat, Ruby Walters.”
Is he . . . flirting with me? Oh fuck, beam me out of here, Scotty, I’m too giddy to keep my head on straight right now. I take a step back. “So, uh, where is everyone?”
“Oh, they all headed into town to check out one of the bars there.”