Page 27 of Naughty Nelle

Jeffrey glances down at his vintage Mickey Mouse watch. “He should be here any minute. He’s been at Nordstrom’s firming up an order.”

“Yay!” I adore Chaz almost as much as I adore Jeffrey. They’re perfect together.

“And look! There he is.”

My eyes dart to Third Street where Chaz is dropping off his Jeep with the valet. He spots us immediately and joins us.

“Hi, beautiful,” he gushes, giving me a double-cheek kiss. And then he does a double take. “Oh my God. What did you do to yourself?”

He takes the chair next to mine. Jeffrey fills him in on my spa vacation after ordering iced teas for all of us from our waiter. The chilled beverages come quickly, and I take a sip of mine while Jeffrey blabbers on. Chaz is all ears.

“Zoeykins, you need a whole new wardrobe. You absolutely must come down to the showroom and pick some things out.”

He’s right. My clothes are all baggy on me. While I’m definitely still not the perfect Size 6 (nor will I ever be), I’ve definitely dropped a size from my normal Size 12.

“Wow! I’d love to—that is, if I can get away long enough from the tyrant.” Who, thanks to his amnesia, hasn’t noticed my new trimmer body, I add silently.

“How’s Mr. Beautiful and Bossy doing?” asks Jeffrey, who’s heard all my horror stories.

I roll my eyes. “You don’t want to know. It’s worse than before. I think he’s bi-polar. Plus, now I have to contend with barbs from his stuck up fiancée.”

“You should slap that rude bitch,” quips Chaz.

My eyes widen. “You know Katrina?”

“Spare me, yes. That bitch tried to stop my friend Jennifer from marrying Blake Burns.”

“The network Blake Burns?” Who Brandon is having lunch with this very minute.

Chaz nods. “Yup. That one.”

“Holy guacamole!” I exclaim after he tells me how she stalked and drugged him and then had the audacity to show up at their wedding and object to their nuptials. Yikes! She’s not just any bitch. She’s a veritable psycho bitch. Devious and toxic. Does Brandon know this? Should I tell him?

Jeffrey takes a sip of his iced tea. “If you ask me, honey, your psycho boss and the bitch are a perfect match. Don’t you just love that name—Bratrina?”

We all burst out in laughter. Maybe Jeffrey’s right.

The waiter returns and takes our orders. Wanting to keep my weight down, I ask for a half-order Chinese Chicken salad with the dressing on the side.

“Zoester, go for the full-size,” insists Jeffrey. “I promise you won’t gain a pound.”

He doesn’t have to twist my arm. I’m starving. I go for it.

Over a sinful piece of double fudge chocolate cake, which we share (I can’t resist), I mention that Brandon has amnesia. I got so caught up with all the Katrina dirt I forgot to share that.

“I know,” says Jeffrey.

I gulp down my mouthful of chocolate sin. “You do?”

“Pops told me.” Jeffrey’s dad, Pete, who we both call Pops, is a homicide detective for the LAPD. In addition to being my loving surrogate dad, he was the one assigned to investigate my mother’s brutal murder. The senseless death of his beloved twin sister enraged him. He swore he would hunt the gunman down and personally give him his due. No matter how hard Pops worked the case or close he came, Mama’s killer was never found. To this day, it haunts me that he’s probably still out there. My stomach churns. I can still see his face. For a split second, I’m five again and he’s pointing a gun at me. I shudder. Jeffrey’s voice hurls me out of the terrifying memory.

“He’s investigating Brandon’s hit and run accident. Given that he’s a huge star, there’s a possibility some crazy stalker tried to deliberately run him over.”

A shiver slithers down my spine. “You mean like a m-murder?” The word is hard for me to say.

Biting into another serving of the chocolate cake, he nods and then swallows. “He may want to talk to you.”

“Ooh!” coos Chaz, a total gossip hound.

There’s one last chunk of the cake remaining; Jeffrey insists it’s mine. I politely decline. I’ve lost my appetite. The thought of someone trying to kill Brandon, my Kurt Kussler, sickens me.

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