“Joan’s not a fool.” She might be misguided, but she was a brilliant woman.
“So why did you force her to do it your way?”
“I didn’t force her.”
“But she did, and she’s mad.”
“She had a choice.”
Brett shook his head. “Anthony, Anthony.”
“Don’t get condescending on me.”
Brett stretched his legs out again, gesturing with his beer can. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice based on my five years of marital experience.”
“
“It’s your fault. Whatever happened, whatever went sideways, whatever went wrong, it’s all your fault. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. And she’s my client, not my wife.”
“She’s a woman. Apologize, and get on with it.”
Apologize to Joan? Lie, and tell her she was right to squander publicity opportunities? Tell her she could make a successful career by hiding from her fans?
He didn’t think so.
“Quit it,” barked Brett.
“Quit what?”
“Quit trying to reason this out logically. Apologize now, apologize often.”
“I’d be lying.”
“You’d be putting your ego on hold.”
“I don’t have an ego.”
Brett tipped back his head and laughed. “Anthony, you are a slave to your ego.”
“Get stuffed.”
“It’s her career.”
“It’s my job to give her advice.”
“How are you going to give her any advice if she’s not speaking to you?”
Brett had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. If Anthony was no longer Joan’s agent, how could he give her any advice at all? Who knew what kind of illogical choices she’d make without him?
Maybe Brett was right. Maybe he needed to give a little to gain more influence in the end?
That would mean apologizing to Joan. That would mean backing off and letting her go underground again. But at least it might not mean losing her. And Anthony was nearly sick at the thought of losing her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE SUN had set. The kids had been put to bed. And Oscar had turned on the lanterns around the deck, giving the backyard a festive glow.
Brett appeared and put his arm around Nadine, and Joan felt an arm go across her back. She turned to see Anthony’s smile.
“Hey,” she said and smiled back. She was still enjoying her emotion-denying margarita buzz, and she wasn’t about to let anything bother her right now.
“I’m sorry,” he said into her ear.
“For what?” she asked.
“For everything.”
She saw Brett grin in her peripheral vision.
Anthony nodded. “Yeah. All of it.”
“Then you’re not fired,” she said magnanimously, seizing the moment.
Brett jumped in. “She
Joan put her fingers over her lips and giggled. “You didn’t tell them?”
“I didn’t tell them.”
“Why’d you fire him?” asked Nadine.
Anthony glared at his brother and sister-in-law.
“Our lips are sealed,” Nadine vowed, and Brett nodded to signal his concurrence.
Anthony still looked skeptical.
“Sorry,” Joan stage-whispered, feeling rather giddy, more from having rehired Anthony than from the margaritas, she realized.
“Are you going to remember any of this in the morning?” he asked.
“Of course.” Did she seem that drunk?
Then it occurred to her Anthony didn’t know she’d switched to nonalcoholic margaritas a couple of hours back. She decided it might be fun to mess with his head. She faked a hiccup. “Maybe.”
Anthony heaved a sigh.
Nadine giggled in delight. She knew Joan was barely tipsy.
Getting in on the act, she elbowed Anthony. “Might be a few other things she won’t remember in the morning.”
Brett stared at his wife in shock.
Nadine ignored him. “This could be your big chance,” she said to Anthony.
Joan winked at Nadine. Then she walked her fingers up Anthony’s bare forearm, feeling dangerous and flirty. “Got any ideas, Anthony?”
He brushed her hand away. “Quit fooling around.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
Nadine guffawed.
While Joan gave Anthony an exaggerated pout, Nadine whispered something to Brett. He grinned.
“Last night?” asked Brett with evident interest.
Joan decided to keep the joke going. “Last night, he said-”
Anthony’s hand clapped over her mouth.
She tried to talk, but no words could get through his grip.
“Joan is going to bed now,” he informed them.
She tried to tell him she was just joking around, but he turned her smartly toward the house.
She struggled to get free. She couldn’t disappear without saying good-night to her hosts. It would be unbelievably rude.
“Oh no, you don’t,” said Anthony. He waved to his parents. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll see you in the morning. ’Night, Dad.”
Joan renewed her effort to get free.
“Just a few more steps,” he said.
Then the kitchen door banged shut behind them, and he took his hand off her mouth.
“Anthony!”
“Careful.” He kept a firm hand on her upper arm, almost lifting her off the floor as they made their way down the hallway.
She redoubled her struggle. “I have to say good-night. I have to thank them.”
“Oh no, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do!”
He glared down at her. “And tell them I think you’re the sexiest woman alive?”
“I was joking.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
