birthday. If you don’t want to go to your own damn party, don’t go. So it might be a PR nightmare. It’s not like your company is at risk of going under if you don’t make an appearance. Quit trying to make the important people happy. For once, do something that makes you happy. And by that, I don’t mean try your hand at banging all of the Victoria Secret models again.”
“There are still two holding out on me,” Charlie murmured as he grinned at the memory. The press had a field day with those photos.
“If you want to stay in watching television, do that. If you want to go skinny-dipping in the ocean alone, do that. If you want to join your best friend in a series of mind-numbing meetings in New York, I’m not going to stop you,” Shawn joked.
“Well, you’ve made it sound so fun,” Charlie said dryly. “But you’re not wrong. I should be able to say how I spend my birthday. And it shouldn’t be with a ton of people I barely know.”
“Whatever you decide to do, be careful. The paparazzi will eat you alive if they discover that you’re not at your party. Where are you?”
“Condo on Pierce Drive.”
“That’s good. No one has caught on that you own that place. Damn. Perkins is giving me the death stare. I’d better get going. Call me later.”
Charlie was about to say something else, but Shawn hung up. With a shrug, Charlie tossed the phone on the table and pursed his lips. Making a decision, he jolted up and ran into the kitchen. Opening up one of the drawers, he started pulling out to-go menus. As one slid out of his reach, he bent down to pick it up.
Towney Catering.
Someone had given it to him a few weeks ago and mentioned that it was new and hip. Just the two things he hated the most. But when he opened it up, he couldn’t help but see a few things that sounded good.
Vaulting over the couch back, he landed hard on the cushions and leaned his head back. He was going to spend the night with good food, good movies, and possibly good porn.
With a wicked smile, he picked up the phone and dialed his public relations agent. “Johnson,” he said brightly. “I’m really not feeling all that well.”
Chapter Two
Gemma took off her sunglasses, hat, and wig when she entered Lizzie’s place. It was an expansive warehouse that has been converted into a catering business. The counter tops were covered in a beautiful gray marble, and the appliances were a dazzling stainless steel. She thought her own kitchen was impressive, but it was nothing compared to this.
“You made it!” Lizzie beamed as she rushed towards her. She went in for a hug but stopped and looked at her arms. They were covered in sauce. “I’d hug you, but I don’t think this sauce is going to go with your outfit.”
Looking down at her expensive Italian silk white shirt that she’d paired with her dark tight jeans, Gemma shrugged. “Looks aren’t getting me very far these days anyways,” she said as she leaned in for the hug.
“Oh, sweetheart. You made it to the top on looks and brains, and don’t let anyone tell you differently,” Lizzie said as she went back the pot she had on the oven. She was shorter than the average woman with dark hair and naturally olive skin. Although she was pretty, she did very little in the way of make-up.
Spinning a vintage bight orange dining room chair around, Gemma slumped in it. “My brains don’t seem to be kicking in now. I’m broke. I’m beyond broke. I’m literally days away from losing my apartment.”
The phone on the counter rang, and Lizzie sent her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, darling. Give me just a minute.” She snatched up the phone. “Elizabeth Towney here.” After a minute, her eyes widened in panic. “But you’re supposed to be here in five minutes. You couldn’t call out an hour ago? I’ve got a delivery that I have to make in twenty minutes!”
Obviously frustrated, she hung up the phone and let loose a few colorful expletives. “Damn
Learning to Kill: Stories