Page 20 of Killer Body

“Do you know Julie?”

“I haven’t seen her in years.”

“But you have met?”

“Yes. Actually, I introduced her to Mr. Warren, so in a way, I was responsible for her getting the job.”

“You didn’t want it?”

“Heavens, no. I was involved in my film career.”

“That would have been six, seven years ago, right?”

“The show’s only been off for three.”

She doesn’t say more. We both know what that can mean to a woman in Hollywood.

A server with a tray of appetizers approaches. This is definitely Killer Body food—not even a morsel of anything fried or salted in the lot. Lox comes closest, a smidgeon of it dotted with capers and resting on a small bleached wafer.

I reach for it, Rochelle shakes her head, and the server moves on. “Mr. Warren must have picked the menu,” I say.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Warren’s a one-man show. Absolutely amazing. Don’t you love, love, love him?”

“And you can say you knew him when, right?”

“Well, hiswhengoes back way further than mine. He was already a success by the time we met.” She signals the waiter. “At least he allows booze at his parties.”

“But not cigarettes?”

“Never.” She frowns. “You’re not a smoker, are you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. Your complexion—” She lets her words trail off and absently brushes her fingertips across her own face.

The waiter appears with a full tray. This time I recognize him. He lit into me earlier in the week when I’d waylaid the princess outside the hotel boutique.

“You get around,” I say, reaching for a glass.

“You, too.”

“From chauffeur to waiter?”

He gives me a fey smile. “It’s been done. Last I heard, it was called moonlighting.”

“Me, too.”

Before I can say more, he turns and moves to the next group of people, leaving me with unspoken questions about why he would just happen to be moonlighting at this party.

Tania Marie

Word of the day:Tartarian: Of or relating to Tartarus; infernal

No matter how busy she was, she always checked her computer, right after her e-mail, for the Word of the Day. It was the only thing she still shared with Marshall. He’d gotten her in the habit; building his vocabulary was a compulsion with him. What was today’s word? They hadn’t been good ones lately, and this one had something to do with hell.

She was living it right now. Not a damned piece of meat in the whole place. If she looked at another tofu roll, she’d have to tear the chocolate chips out of her purse and down the whole bag right here in front of God and everyone.

Tartarian.That was the word. A place in Hades where the worst souls did time. Now it just reminded her of the raw steak Virginia served at the restaurant—filet ground up with raw red onions and spread on toast. Damn, she could gobble it by the fistful right now. Instead she followed Mr. Warren onto the balcony and joined him at the table. He carried a glass, but there wasn’t a smidgeon of food in sight. Before them, the lights of Santa Barbara twinkled.