“Indeed it is,” Princess Gabby countered.
The camera didn’t budge. Rochelle licked at her lips like a dog at a water dish. “I have very little knowledge of my husband’s business dealings, except those concerning my own career, of course.”
“Oh, come on.” Tania Marie just couldn’t restrain herself, Lucas thought.
The camera knew what she didn’t, though. Just stay poised and let the clock tick, give Rochelle enough rope to hang herself.Lucas felt sweat break out on his own brow, as if he were the one facing the judgmental camera and Crosby’s scrutiny.
“It’s a matter of ethics.” Rochelle smiled into the camera, as if explaining something elementary to a backward child, that child being Tania Marie. “Show business is extremely competitive, every aspect of it. For my husband to share confidential information with me could embarrass or otherwise harm his clients.”
“So you had no idea he approached these two ladies?” Crosby asked.
Rochelle blinked into a close-up. “Absolutely not. And, since he isn’t here to defend himself, I have no way of knowing who approached whom, if anyone.”
“Not bad,” Rikki said.
“You’re right.” Lucas wiped his forehead. Damn, how he hoped Bobby W wasn’t watching, because right now, Rochelle McArthur was in deep trouble.
SIXTEEN
Rikki
Back to Santa Barbara. Glad to be here.
Hello, sterile room; hello, upside-down glasses on ink-blotter paper coasters. Welcome, queen-size bed.
Staying away from the day-to-day of theVoiceand the Valley is almost preferable to facing those routines without Lisa.
I don’t know what to make of the accusations against Jesse McArthur or the way Lucas reacted to them. His concern was to save Bobby Warren any pain. He phoned Bobby on his cell and woke him from a nap. Relieved that he hadn’t witnessed the finger-pointing interview, he explained what had happened and agreed to set up an appointment with Rochelle for today. Right now. Which is where I come in.
The interview with Bobby is going to have to wait. I’m not about to miss this opportunity with Rochelle.
The Killer Body offices are decorated with more care and thoughtfulness than Bobby Warren’s home, and I wonder if that’s because they are his home. He and Lucas have the views, on opposite ends of a long hall of shiny parquet covered with a Persian rug so tight and finely toned that it must have taken many Killer Body memberships to finance.
Ellen, Lucas’s assistant, has the office in the middle. She’s already at her desk as I pass. Across the office from hers, a large room contains about six, seven desks, all occupied by people with what could very well be described as killer bodies. BobbyWarren hires workaholics, Lucas said. Don’t these people have lives away from here? Don’t they have something better to do on a Saturday morning?
“Can I help you?” Ellen stands in the doorway I’ve just passed on my way to Warren’s office. Her voice is as friendly as her smile, but I know she’s playing monitor again.
“Lucas knows I’m here,” I say.
She crosses her arms across her white knit top. “He hasn’t come back from Los Angeles yet.”
“Actually, he got in late last night.” I match her well-mannered tone. “We both did.”
“Oh.” Is that a flush spreading along her cheekbones?
“Yes. He told me Rochelle was meeting with Mr. Warren at seven-thirty, and that I could interview her after that.”
“Okay, then.” She gives me a too-cheerful smile for this time of morning. “Why don’t you step in the reception area until she and Mr. Warren are finished, and I’ll have someone get you some coffee while I give Lucas a call.”
Her point is not lost on me, couched as it is in high school cheerleader perkiness. After this, I won’t need the coffee.
She starts back for her office, and the heavy door to Bobby Warren’s office opens. Out steps Rochelle. For the moment before she spots me, I see her face as it really is, the thin lips twisted into a pained line, her body, depleted and too thin except for the distracting breasts. A black bra strap has slid along one shoulder of her tanned arm. When she sees me, she instinctively straightens and pulls it up.
“What are you doing here?”
“Lucas said I could talk to you.”
She pauses between me and the closed door of Warren’s office, and her eyes look trapped. “I thought it would be a phone interview.”
