“I know you did it again, Christopher. You talked to Alain, didn’t you?”
He sighed and looked down. “Worse than that.”
“Worse?”
“I saw him.”
“You can’t mean he’s here?” She saw the truth in his eyes. “He’s in Los Angeles?”
Christopher nodded. “I’m supposed to take you to his hotel when you’re finished tonight.”
Rochelle
She had to hear about it from Jesse. She wished there’d been an easier way.
“You know this for a fact?”
She kept her voice low. Megan was asleep—she hoped—in her bedroom down the hall.
Propped up on three pillows, stark naked on the bed, he channel-surfed a silent television screen, pausing only at pom movies and sporting events. In her next life, she would not marry an insomniac.
“I talked to John Crosby’s press agent,” he said.
Rochelle decided to go for a little test. “So what did she have to say?” It would be ashe,that nameless press agent; Rochelle knew it.
Jesse didn’t notice. He’d just found a multiracial ménage on the screen. He reached down, not for her, but for himself.
“She said Crosby’s interested in helping Princess Gabby. He likes her. Gabby told me he’s going to ask her to sit in while he’s on vacation. If that goes as he thinks it will, he’s going to lobby for her to have her own show. Wonder how many blow jobs that took.”
“Not a one.” She was startled at the anger his words elicited. That wasn’t an emotion she allowed to surface very often. The bitch routine often dispelled any true emotions. “Gabby’s amazing, and she deserves her own show. Why can’t you just give her that?”
“Sheisamazing. You’re right there.”
She poked his arm, trying to nudge his attention back from his friend under the covers to her. “Besides, if she gets the talk show, she won’t want anything to do with Killer Body. I don’t think she ever did, anyway.”
He clicked off the television, right in the middle of an act that would have left even the media’s cartoonish version of Tania Marie gasping for breath. They sat together in the darkness. Husband and wife. Agent and client. Rochelle had never felt more alone.
“Which means you’ll have it for sure.”
“Exactly.” Why didn’t she feel more victorious?
She slid down under the comforter, which left her feeling anything but comforted. “I guess I’ll try to sleep now.”
She rolled over, away from him.
“So you see all of this as a positive?” She couldn’t identify what bothered her about his voice.
“About Gabby? Sure. I’m happy for her, and I hope it works out.”
“Even if I’m her agent?”
Her body froze on the bed. “What are you talking about? You’re not her agent.”
“I offered to be, if you’ll recall. After I talked to the press agent, I got in touch with Gabby and told her I hoped she was still considering my offer.”
His glib response was too pat, rehearsed. She rolled over again, studied his profile, hoping even now that she was wrong about him. “But you offered only to get her to withdraw from the Killer Body competition. You weren’t serious about wanting to be her agent, were you?”
“I was, and I am.”
