Page 10 of Take 2
Chapter Eight
“I ’m sorry, your words are so nonsensical I don’t even have a joke to make about them. You’re what?” James’ voice comes through my AirPods as I pop around my bedroom.
“I’m going to Monaco.”
“With Preston Greene?”
“Yes.” The washer alerts me that it’s done.
“On purpose?”
“Mhmm.”
“Are you duct-taped to a chair right now?” James asks.
“Did he make you call me so I wouldn’t report you missing for a few extra days?
Damnit, we never created a codeword for this.
Preston, let her go! I will pay the ransom, so long as it’s under two thousand dollars because that’s all I can afford. ”
“James.”
“Mira, I’m going to need you to send me two thousand dollars for your ransom.”
I look back and forth between the two bikinis on my bed. “Should I bring the yellow bikini with the ruffly top or the pink floral one?”
“You just missed the opportunity to wave a red flag. You should have given me a fake bikini option so I knew to call the cops. If you told me you had a camo one this would be so much easier.”
“Which one?” I groan.
“Both. You always under-pack.”
“You always over-pack. I’m already bringing the black one.”
“Bring them all, unless you’re trying to set up an excuse for skinny dipping because you don’t have anything to put on.”
I roll my eyes but toss both in.
“Are you going to sleep with Preston Greene?”
“No.”
“If it’s not for hate-sex, I really don’t understand this at all.”
“James, I can’t pass up an opportunity to schmooze Rafael Medina.” I’ve been reviewing the reasons to convince myself, so I’ve got them ready. “Lisa told me to take a vacation. You tell me to stop working all the time. And frankly, I’m stuck. I need to shake things up.”
“In bed?”
“No! I mean, yes, probably. But not specifically on this trip with Preston.”
“What if he’s taking you away to kill you?” The speed with which he goes back and forth between me being in serious danger or trying to get laid is impressive.
“There have to be cheaper ways to murder a person than flying them to Europe.” I pull a couple of light dresses from my closet.
“Are you sure you’re going to Monaco?”
“He sent me the flight confirmations. The airport is in Nice.”
“Is there extradition in France?”
“It’s France!” Not that bra; it’s ugly. Wait, that doesn’t matter. I put it in my suitcase. “France definitely has extradition to the States.”
“I still think there’s a chance he’s going to kill you.”
“Then I trust you to pick a great picture of me for the ‘In Memoriam’ segment of next year’s Oscars.”
“It’s the one from Napa, where you’re laughing with the vineyard behind you.”
Of course, it’s from that trip. Those are the only pictures that make it look like I have a life outside of work. “Perfect. But wait, wasn’t I wearing a green dress in that? I don’t wear green anymore, and certainly not if Preston Greene murders me.”
“I think it would be a perfect, I know what you did , kind of thing, actually.”
“You don’t think he’s going to get caught?” My voice goes all sad puppy, like this is really what’s going to happen.
“No, babe. There will be no evidence, and he’ll be the saddest person at your funeral. Maybe he’ll speak at it.”
That’s too far!
“I will haunt you if you let my murderer speak at my funeral. I’ll move everything around in your kitchen every night so in the mornings you always have to go on a scavenger hunt for your coffee mugs.”
“For someone so cute, you are quite evil,” James says.
“Thank you.”
“Are we still doing Cinco margaritas tonight?”
“Absolutely!” Getting a little drunk tonight might help me not realize how horrible an idea this is.
“Good. I need one last memory of us together for me to talk about in my interviews after you die.”
“I’d never leave you unprepared for such a thing.” But there are plenty of other things on my plate that are not at all prepared for my departure or potential death. “Is it unprofessional to pass on all my crap to my assistant over margaritas?”
“I think Ashleigh will appreciate that, actually.”
The suitcase hits the floor loud enough to warrant concern from my downstairs neighbor if they’re home when James pulls it off my bed.
Good thing the weight limit is higher for intercontinental flights.
I drop my chin in my best annoyed-at-you face that I know doesn’t hold a candle to Ashleigh’s.
Not that Ashleigh is using that as we bring the bag out to my front door.
She’s still in the confused stage, leaning her elbows on my kitchen counter.
“You don’t do anything just a little bit, do you?” Her eyebrows are pulled together, and she takes a sip of her margarita.
“The over-packing is all James.”
Oh, I get the annoyed face. “That is not what I mean, and you know it.” Of course, I know it. What she means is ‘take a break’ doesn’t usually mean ‘take a surprise trip to Monaco for three weeks . ’
“Plus, this bag is full of necessities.” James pulls it out of my bedroom, and we follow. “Except for the one thing.”
“That is way more necessary than most of the shoes in there.”
“What is?” Ashleigh asks.
James parks the bag by my door and turns to us with a flourish. “ Mira cle packed a toy as if she’ll need it with Preston there.” What was meant to serve as proof I’m not going on this trip to sleep with Preston has become something to tease me about. Of course, it has.
Ashleigh laughs into her drink. “I’m sorry, I’m just … don’t we hate him?”
“Yes.” I swing around the counter to pour tortilla chips into a bowl. “But I’m an adult. I can work with people I don’t like.”
“Fortunately, so can I.” Ashleigh winks and I throw a chip at her. “Yeah, you’re an adult all right.”
“Almost as adulty as you. Which is why I asked you to catsit.”
James slinks onto a barstool. “I’m the smart one who has feigned irresponsibility so I don’t get asked for things like that.”
“Well, Tabitha Paige and I are going to have a lovely time together.” Ashleigh rubs the cat’s neck with her foot. “And Mommy will be able to rest, and relax—”
“And bang Preston Greene.”
I glare at James. “Are you trying to talk me out of going?” The guac is okay, but I add more salt.
“Not at all. I think you should … go. There.” James takes a not-suspicious sip of his margarita.
“Preston won’t even be the hottest person there.” I lean forward on the counter. “Chris is staring in this picture.”
James cocks an eyebrow. “Which Chris?”
“Your favorite.”
“Oh.” He licks his lips. “Alas, I know you don’t play with actors anymore.”
“Maybe that rule only applies within California.” I’m full of shit, and he knows it. But any opportunity to direct the conversation away from Preston cannot be missed here.
“Maybe hating Preston is only in California, too.” Fail. James becomes unreasonably focused when it’s in the name of picking on me.
“Traveling with someone tends to highlight the worst in them,” Ashleigh says. “I’m more worried they’ll kill each other.”
Flying first class halfway around the world isn’t exactly something I have any experience with. So far, I’ve only traveled to Georgia and New York for work, and in college, it was always for Ryan’s games.
I take a bigger gulp of margarita than is strictly necessary.
Come watch me play football. Come watch me make a movie.
Some things never change, I guess.