"That makes sense," I said encouragingly. "As a blond, you only know the essence of blondness, like I know the essence of dark brown."
Melodie gave me a very suspicious look. I maintained a bland expression. "Good luck," I said. "I can't imagine Ashlee's got a chance, with you in the running."
She brightened. "It's true Ashlee can't act, but…" Melodie trailed off as gloom took over again.
"What?" I said.
"It isn't fair," Melodie snapped. "Ashlee's a natural redhead."
"Like Fran."
Frowning, Melodie said, "Why are you mentioning Fran? She isn't trying out for the part." A look of alarm spread over her face. "Omigod!
Fran left early today. And I did hear her reading lines to Lonnie in the kitchen. You don't think-"
"Surely Fran would have told you?"
Melodie snatched up her makeup bag. "Gotta go," she said, putting her ankles at risk as she broke into a near run in her extremely high heels.
Melodie's had been the only other car in the parking area, so I knew I was alone in the building except for Julia Roberts. She was waiting for me just inside the front door. I'd been held up at UCLA last night, and Jules had been served her dinner half an hour late. This, she had made plain, was unacceptable. Tonight, the moment she set eyes on me, Jules began lobbying for sustenance. This was more to make a point than to be sure she got fed on time, because she knew that when I was in residence, I was pretty well putty in her paws.
I locked the door, soothed Jules by giving her a quick groom-for a short-haired cat, it was amazing how much she managed to shed-then went to check my messages.
Mum had called to say she'd seen another L.A. freeway shooting on the news, and that I was not, under any circumstances, to take my life in my hands and drive on freeways. Melodie had scrawled on the bottom of the message: "Your mom was real upset."
Lonnie had left a note to advise me he'd installed a pinhole-lens camera linked to a time-lapse VCR at Pen Braithwaite's apartment. The VCR was set to record an image every second, which would catch anyone approaching the front door of the apartment. Like Melodie, Lonnie had added something. In his case it was a smiley face and the words: "Dr. Penny! Cool!"
Julia Roberts had followed me into my office. I was telling her we could head to the kitchen for her tucker when I heard someone at the front door. Yerks! I was nowhere near my usual protective weapon, a golf club I kept behind my bedroom door.
"Kylie? It's me, Ariana."
My heart gave a delighted jump. I hadn't expected to see Ariana until Monday. I put on a casual expression and went to meet her.
Ariana looked tired. "I'm just calling in to pick up my messages," she said, smothering a yawn. "I'm beat. My plane was delayed two hours, and then we had a rough flight. I hoped to pick up Gussie, but we landed too late for me to make it to the Castle in time."
"The castle?"
Ariana smiled. "Believe it or not, the name of the boarding kennels is Canine Castle. The latest in luxury accommodations for dogs. Gussie seems to enjoy herself there."
Carefully nonchalant, I said, "So there's no one at home waiting for you to arrive?"
"The odd potted plant might pine for my company," said Ariana lightly.
"Stay and have dinner with me." When she seemed about to demur, I added, "Oh, come on, Ariana. There's a local Thai restaurant I've got to know well. Beaut tucker. I can call an order in, and half an hour, tops, it'll be ready to pick up." Before she could say no, I went on, "I'll get the menu. Have a look at it and see what you think."
"Thanks, but I was dreaming of a hot shower and getting into something comfortable. I'll take a rain check, OK?"
"You can have a shower here, while I order. And I'm sure you've got a change of clothes in your luggage. Please. I'd really like the company."
"You have Julia Roberts," said Ariana, indicating Jules, who had chosen this moment to stalk up to us, her ears slanted in a frown. She sat down and glared at me. After all her efforts, I still hadn't provided her dinner on schedule.
"She's lovely," I said, "but just a touch self-centered. Basically, it's Jules, Jules, Jules. I don't get a look-in." I sloped my eyebrows the wrong way and looked hopefully at Ariana.
"I'm too tired to resist," Ariana said with a half laugh. "Where's the menu?"
The Kendall & Creeling Building had originally been a private home, so there were two proper bathrooms. The one the staff used had a bathtub with a showerhead and, of course, a toilet. Mine, off my bedroom, was smaller, but it had a frosted glass shower recess. I'd always considered it dangerous to clamber into a slippery bathtub to have a shower and said so to Ariana. "It's much safer to use my bathroom."
"I'll use the office one," she said, a little too emphatically.
"Are you thinking I'm going to put the hard word on you?" I asked. When she raised one eyebrow fractionally, I translated, although I was certain she knew exactly what I meant. "Make a pass at you, come on to you-whatever it is you Americans say."
"Kylie-"
"Because I won't. Promise."
And I meant it. No way was I going to ruin things between us. I had to admit I'd almost blown it a few weeks back, when I'd said too much, but since then I'd played it cool, and things were again back on an even keel.
"OK." Ariana picked up her things and headed for the staff bathroom. I called the Thai restaurant with our order, then served Julia Roberts with grilled turkey, one of her favorites. Actually, she had a healthy appetite, so pretty well every different dinner was a favorite.
I'd picked up my keys to collect our order when Ariana came into the kitchen barefoot and wearing faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt. "You didn't have black jeans?" I asked, grinning.
"Apparently not," she said drily. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, stay here and keep Jules company."
"Then let me pay."
"I asked you to dinner, so it's my shout."
I left her with Jules watching TV in the kitchen and skipped out to my car. I reminded myself not to get too chuffed about having persuaded Ariana to share a meal with me. It was no big deal. She'd eat, stay for a few polite minutes more, then go off to her Hollywood Hills home with its stunning views…and maybe, its memories.
Memories. What was it that made her so sad? Had someone she cared for died? Or was it a love story that had ended badly? But how could anyone fall out of love with Ariana? I suspected I'd find it impossible.
On autopilot, I drove the kilometer or so to the Thai restaurant, rehearsing what I'd say to Ariana when I got back. Maybe she would let her hair down and talk about herself… Oh, that was likely-as likely as me spotting a flock of pink pigs flying along Sunset Boulevard.
Miraculously, I snaffled a parking spot after driving around the block only once, chatted with the sweet little daughter of the Thai family who owned the shop, collected my order, and, feeling supercheerful, left a large tip. Before starting my car, I hesitated. Should I pick up a bottle of wine to have with our food? Would it look as though I had an ulterior motive? That I was plying her with alcohol to have my way with her?
My way with her: I had to grin at the old-fashioned phrase. I resolutely ignored a frisson of desire. I'd promised, hadn't I? So, no wine. No hidden agenda. Just a pleasant meal together.
Speeding back to Ariana, I resolved to be a relaxed, agreeable dinner companion. As I drove through our gate, I glanced at our names: Kendall & Creeling. Our business relationship: crash-hot if it could be our personal relationship too. I sternly reminded myself not to be impetuous. My mother had often pointed out how often I got myself in hot water because I acted without first thinking it through. Tonight I would be caution personified.
I found Ariana perched on a high stool in the kitchen, Julia Roberts rather precariously situated on her lap. "Gussie will smell Jules on your clothes," I said, dumping the plastic bag containing our dinner on the counter.