“I can’t bear to think of you working in that meat market with all those jackasses panting around after you like they did when you were younger.”
“I’m older and fatter after having two babies in three years.They won’t even notice me.”
“Sure they won’t.”
Thankfully, he let the matter drop.After finally escaping a controlling husband, no man, not even her beloved brother, was going to tell her how to live her life.She’d never let that happen again.
Isla scrolled through her phone, looking for a way to expend the nervous energy that made her feel like she’d had five glasses of champagne.As if.She stopped on a post from TMZ that showed supermodel Cresley Dane laughing at an outdoor table with a handsome, dark-haired guy.As a fan of all things Cresley, she read the caption and gasped when she saw his name was Julian Remington.“Isn’t this your lawyer friend?”She held her phone so Denny could see the image.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Is hedatingCresley Dane?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Sure looks like it to me.That’sthe guy you’re taking me to see?He looks like a supermodel himself.”Guys like him thought the world revolved around them.She was fresh out of patience for that kind of big-dick energy.She’d been married to it for six years and had had enough.
“He’s a good guy and a fucking brilliant lawyer.That’s what you need right now.”
“Fucking brilliant,” Theo said from the back seat.
Isla glared at Denny.
“Sorry.I’m out of practice.My kids swear like sailors.”They were twelve and fourteen and lived with their mother in Santa Monica.Isla hadn’t seen them in more than a year.
“Awesome.”
She and Denny coexisted in uneasy silence as they drove by Rodeo Drive, Lexus and Audi dealerships, Saks Fifth Avenue and other fancy boutiques.Denny hung a right to enter the parking garage at a six-story white stone and blue glass building on the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Rexford Drive, otherwise known as the high-rent district.
“This place smells like money,” she said.“Are they printing it here?’
“May as well be,” Denny said with a gruff laugh.“The Remington family is filthy rich, but Julian’s cool.He’s one of my longest-standing friends in music.”
“How come I’ve never met him?”
“You haven’t been to one of my shows since I’ve been playing with Canyon, the band we’re in together now.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.As I mentioned, I don’t want you hanging out in smoky bars with pervy guys harassing you.”
“You recall that I’m thirty-one, and you’re not the boss of me, right?”
“What did you say?I can’t hear you.”
Half the time, she wanted to punch him in the face.The other half, she wanted to cling to him and beg him to make her feel safe the way only he could.Right now, the punch to the face was the prevailing desire.
She and Denny each carried one of the kids into an elevator that deposited them into a fancy marble lobby, where they reported in at a reception desk.
“Dennis Clarkson to see Julian Remington.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“We do.”
“I need ID from both of you, please.”
They worked around the kids to produce their driver’s licenses.
