thought the best way to get rid of Platinum was to be curt but polite. âI think at the beach colony or something.â
Platinum exploded in laughter. âA party at the Malibu Colony? No way youâre going in a bowling shirt!â
Kiley flushed as she took her favorite pair of khakis out of the bottom drawer of her dresser. âExcuse me. I donât own a lot of clothes.â
âOh yeah, thatâs right, youâre poor.â Platinum sat up. âThat sucks. Sure you donât want some? Itâs the best.â She offered Kiley the champagne bottle.
âNo, thanks.â
Platinum shrugged and belted down some more.
Kiley immediately thought of Serenity and Sidâshe knew what it was like to be home with a drunken parent. âYou might want to slow down on that, you know, since the kids are here.â
Platinumâs eyes flashed. âI
know
youâre not telling me what to do.â
âNo, I just meantââ
âBecause you know what happens to people who tell me what to do? If they donât work for me, they can go to hell. If they do work for me, they get canned and
then
they can go to hell.â
Kileyâs heart thudded. It was true. Sheâd seen two employees come and go since sheâd started as Platinumâs nanny. Three, counting Jeff Greenberg.
âSorry,â she mumbled.
Platinum nodded with satisfaction, then smiled. âI forgive you. Hey, itâs too damn quiet in here.â She reached across the bed and flicked on the Bose Wave clock radio. Mariah Carey at ear-splitting volume. Platinum listened to about three seconds before she snapped it off. âSheâs such a diva. I hate that bitch, and I hate her ex more. You like her?â
âNot really.â
âGood. Hey, no hard feelings about before, right?â She set the champagne unsteadily on the floor, rose to her feet, and yanked her gauzy shirt over her head. The bra underneath was a gossamer wisp of white and pale pink lace. âHere.â
âWhat?â
Platinum held the shirt out to Kiley.
âSorry?â
âTake the shirt. Wear it on your date.â
Kiley stepped backward. âOh no, I couldnât. I mean, thank you, thatâs so thoughtful of you, butââ
âItâs Alberta Ferretti, for crying out loud. So take the goddamn shirt!â Platinum bellowed. âWhat kind of a person doesnât let another person do something nice for them?â
Oh God, this was terrible. What else could she do? Kiley took the shirt.
âThanks. Thatâs . . . really sweet of you.â
âHorseshit. Iâm never sweet, donât try to flatter me. Put it on, letâs see how you look.â
âUh . . . it might be too small.â
âNah. I bought it when I was gonna get my boobs done; I was thinking big at the time. Try it.â
Kiley did. It fit perfectly. Not only that, it even looked fantastic with Kileyâs khakisâthe contrast of expensive shirt and low-rent pants worked, somehow.
âGood,â Platinum pronounced.
It did look good. Really good, Kiley had to admit, as she appraised herself in the dresser mirror. The shimmery white silk cast a light on her face, and the scoop neckline made her look curvy. Maybe even sexy. She turned to thank Platinum, but what she saw in the doorway ensured that the words never left her lips. There stood Tom Chappelle in jeans and a sky blue shirt that matched his sky blue eyes. He wasnât even looking at her. He was, however, staring at Platinumâs well-filled-out Wonderbra.
6
Say something,
Kiley told herself.
Say
anything.
Kiley had already gotten into Tomâs white Ford F-150 pickup truckâit still had Iowa plates on it. Tom explained that buying the latest BMW or Mercedes or whatever was considered the hip L.A. car of the moment was just not him, and anyway heâd always loved his truck. Heâd already pulled out of