Party Crashers by Stephanie Bond Read Free Book Online Page B

big a dent breakfast would put in her wallet. She'd lain awake most of the night wondering what she could sell if she needed an attorney, but all she could come up with was a kidney. She was a frugal person—she could get by on one.
    "Hannah knows the chef here," Carlotta said, "so we'll eat for free as long as we leave a nice tip."
    The woman was either a mind reader or she thought Jolie looked poor. Regardless, Jolie was grateful.
    Carlotta's friend hadn't yet arrived, but they were shown to a cloth-covered table in a sunny alcove. Carlotta flirted outrageously with the waiter and asked for Pellegrino bottled water. Jolie asked for hot water and lemon, and scanned the menu, which sported some rather alarming prices.
    "So, Jolie," Carlotta said over the top of her menu, "I must hear all about your encounter with Beck Underwood."
    Jolie lifted her eyebrows, and the man's face came into her mind. "My encounter? I sold him a pair of shoes."
    "No, back up," Carlotta said, waving her hand. "I haven't seen a picture of him in ages. What does he look like these days?"
    She recalled that Michael had said Carlotta was a bona fide celebrity groupie. "Um, he was sunburned, mostly."
    "Come on, is he still gorgeous?"
    Jolie shrugged and her cheeks warmed. "I wouldn't say 'gorgeous,' maybe...striking."
    Carlotta grinned and her shoulders shook with a dramatic shudder. "You know he's one of the most eligible bachelors in Atlanta."
    "Um, no, I didn't."
    "Do you have a boyfriend?"
    Jolie swallowed hard and shook her head.
    "Really? You're so pretty. With the right makeup, you could pass for Charlize Theron. I met her once at a club—her skin is perfection."
    A little overwhelmed, Jolie simply nodded. "Where are you from?"
    "Here. I grew up in Virginia-Highland."
    "That's nice," Jolie said, referring to the area of Atlanta and to Carlotta's circumstances. The woman was obviously from money.
    "You?" Carlotta asked.
    "I grew up in Dalton," Jolie said.
    North of Atlanta on Interstate 75, Dalton, Georgia was the carpet capital of the Southeast. Both of her parents had retired from flooring factories, and she wasn't the least bit ashamed, although she was prepared for the woman to wash her hands of her.
    Instead, Carlotta's eyes lit up. "Do you know Deborah Norville?"
    Jolie smiled. Celebrity newswoman Deborah Norville was Dalton's other claim to fame. "I met her once at a charity walk, she seemed really nice."
    "Darn, I'd love to have her in my book."
    "Your book?"
    Carlotta reached into her bag and pulled out a small pink, leather-bound book. "I started when I was a teenager—I met Jane Fonda at a Braves game, and it changed my life." She flipped through the book, showing Jolie the tabbed pages. "I record who I meet and where, and every category has its own alphabetized section: actors, athletes, singers and musicians, politicians, newspeople, businesspeople, and personalities."
    "Personalities?"
    "You know—people you recognize, but you're not really sure what they do...like Fergie, former Duchess of York. Who, by the way, I would kill to meet."
    This woman would have loved Gary, Jolie thought. He could have introduced her to all kinds of celebrities. Jolie nodded toward the well-worn book. "So who's the biggest celebrity you've met?"
    "Hmm, it's a toss-up between Antonio Banderas and Elton John, but since Elton has a home here, I guess I'd have to say Antonio. And maybe Bill Gates."
    "Wow. How did you meet Bill Gates?"
    "At a party. Elton I saw at a restaurant. And I've met lots of celebrities at the Sunglass Hut right here in the mall."
    "No kidding?"
    "Yeah, everybody famous needs sunglasses. Atlanta is a fabulous place to spot celebrities because there aren't that many places for them to go, and they usually don't have a paparazzi guard with them because it's the South and most people don't really care who they are as long as they wipe their feet."
    Jolie laughed, grateful for the woman's entertaining banter. The waiter brought