Everybody Loves Evie. Beth Ciotta

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      I opened the book and smiled at the chicken scrawl on the inside cover. For private stuff. Arch

      I basked in his kindness while turning to the next page and my own purple-penned scribbles. I’d titled the first page The Chameleon Chronicles. I’d already filled a good twenty pages with my adventures in London. I’d also penned a few hopes and fears and some personal stuff about Arch. Private stuff. Stuff I didn’t intend for him to ever know. Especially since we were now absolutely, officially, just friends.

      Frowning, I set aside the journal and snagged my cell. I immediately checked the battery. Sometimes I forgot to recharge it. Okay, a lot of times. According to the bars, I had full power. At least one of us had juice.

      Falling back against the blah-boring sofa, I checked my messages, imagining fifty calls from Arch begging me to return to London. I cannae live withoot you, yeah?

      But instead of a Scottish accent, I heard the nasal twang of a high-school rival. “Evie? Monica Rhodes here. Since you’re too busy to attend the Greenville Civic Theater’s upcoming benefit, I wondered if you’d solicit one of the casinos for a donation. Surely you know people. A weekend stay would bring a tidy sum at the auction. I would have e-mailed, but you don’t respond in a timely manner and I’m in a hurry to wrap things up. I asked your mom for your number. Hope you don’t mind.”

      “Actually, I do,” I said, even though I was talking to a recording. Monica Rhodes had been the president of my high-school drama club. Later she’d snagged the role as director of our hometown’s civic theater. She was and still is a bossy, competitive witch. I’d responded to her e-vite three days after receiving it. For me—someone who’s not glued to the Internet—that was timely. Unable to attend

      due to work, I’d written. A big, fat lie, but I had my reasons. I’d listed them at length in my diary.

       “As you know, Mrs. Grable is moving to Florida to enjoy her golden years. Several of her past students are reuniting for a special benefit performance and going-away party. As one of her pet pupils, I thought you’d want to contribute—”

      I cut Monica off midsentence, something I’d never do in person. Nice girls don’t interrupt. Except I wasn’t so nice anymore. I’d tarnished my conservative, respectable crown when I’d taken up with Arch. I was learning to speak my mind, stand my ground. I was … evolving. Even though I had fond memories of my high-school drama teacher, I wasn’t eager to be reminded of who Mrs. Grable thought I’d been destined to become. A big-time star. I wasn’t thrilled about attending a party and having to meet my thespian classmates’ spouses. I could hear it now.

       Where are you performing, Evie?

       I’m between bookings.

       When’s your next engagement?

       I’m considering my options.

       Where’s your husband?

       Boinking a lingerie model.

       Kids?

       Me? No. But there’s a bun in the model’s oven.

      You can understand my reluctance to commit. I made a mental note to send Monica an e-mail—no way did I want to actually speak to the petty woman—explaining the improbability of obtaining a donation from an Atlantic City casino for a civic theater in Greenville, Indiana. Instead I’d offer a personal monetary donation for the cause. For now, I wiped Monica from my mind, punched auto-dial and focused on a true friend.

      Nicole answered on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re home.”

      Her husky smoker’s voice was music to my ears. I’d been so consumed with Arch these past days I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my best buds. Nicole Sparks, a tall, lithe beauty with mocha skin, green eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, and Jayne Robinson, a not-so-tall kewpie doll with big brown eyes, vibrant red curls and a fascination with the supernatural. Both closing in on forty. Both seasoned performers. Both hurting for work.

      “I’m home.” Such as it was.

      “For how long?”

      Nic was nothing if not blunt. I steeled myself before asking, “What do you mean?”

      “First you split for the Caribbean for several days—”

      “A last-minute booking.”

      “So you said, although you never filled us in on the particulars. You returned home ahead of schedule with a bandaged head and flew out again the next day. Said you were meeting a friend in London. Only after significant badgering did you admit said friend was the hunk you lusted after on the elusive cruise-ship gig.” She paused, and I knew without seeing her that she’d just lit a cigarette. Nic had a few vices, but smoking, as far as I was concerned, was the worst. “We’re thrilled that you’re getting some nooky, Evie. God knows Jayne and I have been trying to hook you up for months. But why all the secrecy?”

      “He’s not married, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I wasn’t sure about a lot where Arch was concerned, but I was one hundred—okay, ninety-nine percent—sure that he was single.

      “We’re worried about you,” she said. “When I called with the news that Michael had gotten Sasha pregnant, you said you didn’t care.”

      I palmed my upset stomach. Motion, not morning, sickness mixed with suppressed bitterness. “I don’t care.”

      “Bullshit. The only reason you never had a baby was because Michael said he didn’t want children. And now—”

      “Now he’s with someone else and I’ve moved on.”

      “That simple?”

      “Yes.” Not really, but I refused to give the matter deep thought. If I went there, I worried I’d mourn my time for having kids had come and gone. I worried I’d feel sorry for myself. I’d wallowed in self-pity for more than a year and it’s not a place I wanted to revisit.

      “So have you talked to him?”

      “Michael? Not since before I left for the cruise. We didn’t part on the best terms. He probably figures you told me about the pregnancy. I’m guessing he’s waiting for me to call him first. I’m thinking I don’t feel like it.”

      “Have you called his office, talked to Violet about auditions or outstanding checks or … anything?”

      Violet was Michael’s secretary, and though we’d always been friendly, we’d never been friends. “After the flashing fiasco, I don’t expect Michael Stone Entertainment Inc. will be sending me on any immediate auditions. The agency doesn’t owe me any money and Violet and I aren’t chatty.” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s up?”

      “I’d rather tell you in person.”

      “Has he decided to drop me as a client?”

      Silence.

      “I’ll take that as a yes.” I wondered if Sasha СКАЧАТЬ