Page 7 of Fire

Only in LA.

She’d thought about moving a time or two. But she’d grown up in the San Fernando Valley. It was home and knew she’d miss it—traffic and all—if she left.

Taking the stairs up to her floor, Gwen got bombarded the minute she walked through the door.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon.”

“My phone died at lunchtime. I forgot to charge it last night.” Gwen took in Allie’s rumpled appearance with a small frown. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Allie worked nights as a cocktail waitress at a famous pub in Hollywood to keep her days free for casting calls. She’d dreamed of being an actress since she was young and had an extensive movie collection comprising mainly of black and white classics.

Best friends since forever, Gwen always thought Allie had been born in the wrong era. With her platinum-blond hair, blue eyes, and generous curves, she would’ve given Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, and Lana Turner a run for their money.

“I have a reading tomorrow morning at seven, so I called out sick. But that’s not important right now.”

Gwen raised a brow. “What could possibly be more important than an audition?” It was then Gwen noticed Allie had a red envelope in her hand and was impatiently hitting it against her thigh.

She held it up and waved it in front of her. “This.”

Gwen blinked, waiting. And when no explanation was forthcoming, asked, “What is it?”

“This,” she held the envelope higher, “is an all-in-one, exclusive, VIP invitation to Fire. Do you know how rare these are? Only people like celebrities, athletes, and… and… the president receive them.”

“I don’t understand.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “They’re like gold. Free admission. Free drinks. Access to the VIP section.”

Gwen shook her head. “No, I meant, why us?”

“I don’t know but who cares.” She stopped and took a deep breath before her eyes danced. “Just think, we get to mingle with the rich and famous!”

Gwen held out a hand. “Let me see it.”

Allie passed the invitation over and leaned into her personal space while she examined it. “It came by special courier late this morning.”

Gwen opened the envelope and pulled out a red, index sized postcard with the club’s name embossed at the top, the font shooting flames. “It has my name on it.”

“I know.” Allie was so excited she couldn’t keep still, lifting to her toes and plopping back down and moving her arms this way and that.

“How would they know my name?”

“I don’t know, but it saysplus one,so that’s all that matters.”

Friday’s date was in bold, gold font with a warning underneath—good only for above date.

She raised her head, giving Allie a frown. “I have a date Friday night.”

Shoot! Not a date. Drinks.

Ms. Wigglesworth went completely still, her mouth falling open before she recovered enough to say, “You’re kidding, right?”

Well, kind of. Sort of. Maybe?

Did she want to go out for drinks with Jason if there was a chance of seeing her mystery man again?

Gwen hated to admit it, even to herself, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him for the past three days. She’d gotten a glimpse of a man at work—he’d been tall with dark hair—and Mystery Man’s image had instantly filled her head. Her mind had replayed the long moment when their eyes had connected and the crazy way he’d made her feel. He even invaded her nights while she lay in bed, trying to sleep. She’d touched herself to his image, made herself come to the memory of his intense stare.

Friday nights were not usually a night she stayed out late. She had Sundays and Mondays off, so that meant she had to be up early Saturday morning. She’d make it work. Had to, really, as the invitation was only good for that one date. She’d stay for a while, and if Mystery Man didn’t show, she’d go home. Allie would be set, after getting her in, she could remain for as long as she wanted.

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