There were twenty people, including her manager, agent, and the publicist she hadn’t fired, waiting when they arrived at DeRose Food Enterprises. Henry was running late.
“Just give me ten minutes to use the restroom and freshen up,” Gina told her staff and turned to Darby, her assistant. “Did you have brunch delivered?”
“There’s food and coffee in the conference room.” Darby motioned for everyone to follow her through the double doors, leaving Gina with a little time alone.
She went to her office to drop off her briefcase and stood at the picture window, watching the waves crash on the shore. This morning, the Pacific looked as turbulent as her insides felt. She gathered her composure and hit the ladies’ room before joining the rest of her team.
It was time to kick some ass and take back her life.
* * * *
Gina stretched out on her California king bed as a cool breeze wafted through her open French doors. The ocean lapped against the beach just outside her bedroom. She could smell a hint of furniture polish and the organic cleaning solution Jessica used to mop the floors. Everything sparkled with cleanliness.
It didn’t matter how many times she dusted or knocked down the cobwebs at Dry Creek Ranch, the cabin always had a patina of grime. And yet, she’d come to admire—maybe even adore—the rugged ranch that had been her sanctuary for the last month.
And especially the people.
Here, she didn’t have many friends. In the beginning, beforeNow That’s Italian!, she’d had a handful of people with whom she socialized. But between the hours spent working and promoting her brand as well as ChefAid’s, she’d been too busy to invest in those relationships. Now that she was a celebrity it was difficult letting new people in. She never knew if they wanted to be friends with Gina DeRose the person or Gina DeRose the FoodFlicks star.
Most of the people with whom she felt comfortable worked for her. But socializing with employees was a dicey proposition.
At Dry Creek Ranch, though, she was free to just be. And despite the scandal and the bad publicity, Charlie and Aubrey had welcomed her friendship with open arms.
She swung her legs over the bed and wandered into the kitchen for a bottle of sparkling water. Every room from her house had a view of the ocean. There were steps down to the beach and if it wasn’t for the fact that she was supposed to be incognito she would’ve taken a stroll along the sandy strand to clear her head. But the tourists were out in full force.
And unlike in Dry Creek, where mostly everyone minded their own business, here the tourists were not only on the lookout for famous people, they went to great lengths to seek them out. They frequented all the usual celebrity spots: Jerry’s Deli, the Ivy, Chateau Marmont, Runyon Canyon, even LAX. Hell, for a few bucks they could take a bus tour of the stars’ homes.
Stalking at its finest.
Here, inside her house, she was safe from the prying eyes of the masses.
She’d gotten home around eight, after an exhausting day. Henry had drafted a letter to ChefAid, reminding the CEO that he was bound by the contract.
“We sound tough,” he’d said in that Oklahoma drawl that his grandparents had brought to California with them during the Dust Bowl and had passed down to the next two generations. “But it’s pissing in the wind.”
According to the morals clause, ChefAid had the right to jettison Gina and hire Candace. Henry had written the letter anyway, letting them know that they couldn’t can Gina without a very public legal battle.
“They’ll pay you out to avoid the lawyers and the publicity. It’s easier that way,” Henry had told her.
At this point, she didn’t know if she even cared anymore. The fighter in her should’ve been outraged by the unfairness of it all. But she was too tired. Tired of the scratching and the clawing and the jockeying to stay on top.
If only Sadie could see her now. Wouldn’t her mother have the last laugh?
Her cell went off and Gina searched for where she’d last left the phone. She followed the ringing and found it on the charger stand in her kitchen. She glanced at the caller ID.
Sawyer.
Her heart stopped.
“Hello?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to LA? I would’ve given you a ride to the airport.”
Charlie had shuttled her to Auburn. She could’ve driven herself, but was afraid to leave her car unattended in the lot for days. There was no telling how long she’d be here.
“I was under the impression you were mad at me…over the restaurant thing.”
“I told you it wasn’t the restaurant.”
