she relished her independence too much.
Finished with Deshi, she hailed a taxi and visited a group of impoverished women and their children who lived in nothing more than a jumble of run-down shacks on the edge of Saigon. She took food and clothes and as much money as she could spare, then spent several hours with them, playing with the children, laughing and chatting with the women who were — in spite of their circumstances — surprisingly upbeat.
Back at her hotel she thought seriously about Flynn and their trip. It was bound to be excessive and over the top. Spoiled rich people vacationing knee-deep in luxury.
Would she be able to stand it?
For Flynn’s sake she’d try. And if it all got too much she’d simply take off. That was the cool thing about having no roots — when it was time to go, there was no one and nothing to stop her.
Chapter Sixteen
Lori made a firm decision. She was not allowing herself to give in to fear; she was a survivor, she could deal with this. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with enough crap in her life, so why be frightened of two mangy, red-eyed wild animals?
She stared the two coyotes down with a purpose, then — when they didn’t move — she started yelling and frantically waving her arms in the air like a crazy person.
‘Fuck off, you little monsters!’ she screamed. ‘Get the fuck outta here!’
It was as if she had an angel watching over her, for the two coyotes suddenly turned around and slunk back into the bushes. Just like that.
‘Holy shit!’ she marvelled. ‘I did it!’
Then, just as she was about to use her cell phone to call for help, a young jogger appeared. He was wearing board shorts, a cut-off UCLA tee, and a sweatband to keep his blondish hair from falling into his eyes.
For a brief moment she was mesmerized by his legs standing over her, tanned and strong, athlete’s legs. He couldn’t be more than eighteen, so she forced herself to shift her gaze.
‘I heard yelling,’ he said, jogging in place. ‘You okay?’
‘I am now,’ she said, relieved to see him. ‘Damn coyotes looked about ready to eat me for breakfast.’
‘Bummer,’ he said, scratching his chin. ‘You hurt?’
‘It’s only my ankle. I’ll live.’
‘You need help?’
‘I guess so,’ she said tentatively, attempting to stand.
‘Right,’ he said, holding out his hand to help her up. ‘You shouldn’t jog by yourself. I tell my mom that all the time.’
His mom! She was twenty-four, for crap’s sake. Why was he comparing her to his mom? Maybe Cliff’s advanced age was rubbing off on her.
‘I jog by myself all the time,’ she said, enjoying the intense smell of fresh sweat emanating from his armpit. ‘Usually I bring my dogs.’
‘Big dogs or little dogs?’ he enquired. ‘’Cause if they’re little, the coyotes gonna wolf ’em down.’
‘Big dogs,’ she said, leaning on him.
‘Big is good,’ he said.
She wondered how many girls had uttered those words to him, for his package in board shorts left little to the imagination.
‘Yes,’ she managed, holding onto his arm and wincing as her foot hit the ground.
‘I could carry you if you can’t make it,’ he offered.
Nice one. She wouldn’t mind at all. She could sniff his armpit all the way down to the car park.
‘You’re sweet,’ she said. ‘If you don’t mind me hanging onto your arm, I think I can do it.’
‘Gotcha,’ he said.
‘Are you
‘Naw,’ he said casually. ‘I was about to turn around anyway.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Chip. You?’
‘Uh… Lori.’
‘Okay, Lori,’ he said, placing her arm around his neck, and getting a grip on her waist. ‘Let’s do this thing.’
Lori did not answer her phone. Voicemail picked up. Cliff was not about to tell her that they’d been invited on the Kasianenko yacht until he could watch her quiver with excitement. She’d be so thrilled.
Where was she? What did she do all day when he was busy working?
Girl things, he supposed. Shopping, mani-pedis, Pilates, spinning, shit like that.
He knew she was desperate for him to get her a job as an actress, but it didn’t seem right for the star to put his girlfriend in the movie. Although he could’ve if he’d wanted to. He didn’t, had to be careful that she wasn’t using him in that way, besides — what were actresses? Nothing but egomaniacs with tits and stylists. He’d had a few, and they always ended up causing hysterical scenes and running to the tabloids with a totally made-up story.
No more actresses for Cliff Baxter. Hell, no.
Reaching for his cell, he called Enid and told her to book him a garden booth at the Polo Lounge for tonight. He’d tell Lori then, and later she could show him her appreciation in her own very special way.
Yes, Cliff Baxter didn’t do anything unless it suited him.
Chapter Seventeen
Once Jeromy was in the house, the staff scuttled around on red alert. Jeromy was a fierce taskmaster who expected perfection at all times. He was also a stickler for rules,
On the other hand, Luca was totally laid back. He couldn’t care less if the outdoor cushions weren’t arranged just so. It didn’t bother him if a painting was crooked or the bed wasn’t made to Jeromy’s strict specifications.
When Jeromy was away, all was mellow. When he was in residence — look out!
The staff adored Luca.
The staff loathed Jeromy.
After arriving from London and enjoying a Mojito on the terrace with his younger boyfriend, Jeromy flashed the coveted invitation and informed Luca that they simply had to go.
Luca checked it out and enquired who else would be on the trip.
‘How would I know?’ Jeromy said with a casual shrug. ‘Although you can rest assured that they will be people of quality.’
Luca wrinkled his nose. There were times Jeromy said things that didn’t make any sense. What did ‘people of quality’ mean exactly? It must be one of Jeromy’s strange English expressions.
‘Sure we can go,’ he said, leaning back on his lounger. ‘I’m not in the recording studio until September, so it works for me.’
Jeromy was delighted. ‘We should go shopping,’ he announced, eyes gleaming at the thought of an entire new wardrobe of clothes. ‘The Valentino leisurewear this year is divine. We must both get fitted out. Perhaps matching white tuxedos?’
‘Why not?’ Luca said.
