Page 31 of All Signs Point to Malibu

“That’s a list of contacts—agents, managers, and acting coaches. First assignment is to send out your headshot and résumé to these people.” I know she has professional photos of herself from various events and publications she’s been featured in. No sense doling out cash for new images in case this thing is a bust. I always encourage my clients to spend as little as possible in up-front start-up costs.

She scans the names on the list and her eyes widen. “These are major players in the industry. I can’t thank you enough,” Sonia says excitedly but with a hint of nervousness.

“This is what I do.” I’ve set her up with a contact list that would normally take new actors six years living in LA and slugging it out as assistants, waiters, and Uber drivers to build—now it’s up to her. It eases my conscience a little for messing with her other life plans.

She takes a deep breath and leans forward. “I also meant for stepping in to help plan the engagement party. Warren seems like a great guy...”

“‘Delightful’ some might say.”

Sonia laughs. “But I think his idea of a formal event and my family’s are a little different.” Sonia looks around my impressive office. “Your taste is a lot more...on brand.”

“It’s really no problem,” I say and stand again. Especially if it never happens. I check my watch for effect when Sonia remains seated.

“Right. We’re done,” she says, collecting her things and standing again. “I’m sure you have a full schedule.”

Actually, the rest of my day consists of reaching out to every contact I have to try to secure tickets to the World Golf Championships coming up so I can host an athlete VIP event before Spencer Stanley beats me to it, but I nod.

I walk her toward the office door and she turns to face me with a hesitant look. “Oh, and I have one more request.”

Should I remind her I’ve just given her a free consultation and a contact list worth millions? I smile expectantly—ready to grant her one last wish.

“Will you be my maid of honor?”

Fuck no.

I try to stop my eyebrows from rising, but they have a mind of their own. “Oh, um...we don’t really know one another.” She can’t be serious. There are so many reasons why this is a ridiculous request.

Sonia steps forward and reaches for my hands, but I shove them into my pockets. The conversation has now turned tomypotential involvement in her future and anytime that’s happened in the past, the glimpse turns out to be a sharp, bright, loud blast of noise and light that messes with my equilibrium for days, as though I just got off an out-of-control teacup ride.

Sonia frowns at my abrupt rudeness but pushes on. “You are important to Liam and you’re the first person I’ve even told about my dreams. That puts you high on the list of prospects to stand next to us on our special day.”

“There has to be a family member who’d be a better choice.” A cherished family pet for that matter.

Sonia shakes her head. “I’m an only child. I have eight female cousins and if I choose one of them, the others will riot. It’s safer to have them all bridesmaids.”

“Eightbridesmaids? This is going to be a big wedding.” I should have guessed. It’s a Banks wedding. There will likely even be press and they’ll need security to keep paparazzi at bay.Ifit happens, and I’m even more hell-bent on ensuring it doesn’t now that there could be a hideous maid of honor dress in my future.

“Huge.” She nods. “I’ll get you the invite list for the engagement party—” she waves a hand “—but please say you’ll do it?” Sonia folds her hands pleadingly and gives me a puppy dog look.

I can see why Liam proposed. Here I am determined to stop this wedding and yet I’m envisioning the most epic bachelorette party she more than deserves in addition to the engagement event.

Right now, I feel cornered and there’s no harm in agreeing. “Of course.”

Sonia squeals in delight the same way I’m sure she has since she was two years old, getting her way with her impossible to say no to demeanor. “Thank you!” She steps forward and hugs me tightly. My arms remain limp at my side, squeezed against my body.

Operation Breakup needs to launch as quickly as possible—before I offer to help her make wedding favors.

AB-?

I stare at the grade posted on the sports psychology course site and feel a sense of pride I’ve never gotten from academics. My self-esteem always centered around sports. Classes and studying were just mandatory pain in the ass requirements to play football.

But seeing this grade—one I busted my balls for—fills me with pride.

Instinctively, I reach for my cell phone, then stop.

It’s been two years, when will that urge to text Cliff stop hitting me out of nowhere? For brief instances I forget he’s gone and there’s a new voice at the other end of his old phone number.

I learned that the embarrassing way when I called to listen to his voicemail message six months ago and a woman answered. To say it was a shock to the system would be an understatement.

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