Page 3 of Billionaire Devil

“I can send you a plane ticket if you want,” Jess offers. “If that’s helpful.”

“You know me.” I laugh off my fear of flying. “I prefer to remain on solid ground, rather than suspend myself thirty thousand feet in the air inside a flimsy metal tube.”

“I thought you were going to go to therapy about your phobia,” she chides me.

“I haven’t had time. It’s on the list.”

“It’s a long drive, Lila.”

In some ways I feel like this might be a sign. Maybe it’s time for me to cut my losses and accept defeat. Itriedto make it in New York, I really did. I gave it a year. I’veworked my ass off with nothing to show for it. I’ve made progress, but I still have such a long way to go. Plenty of designers base themselves in L.A., after all. It’s not like I can’t build up a following from the West Coast. “I was actually thinking of coming home.” I hate that, as I say it, a piece of me feels like I’m a failure who’s giving up too soon.

“For good?” She can’t disguise her hopefulness.

“I don’t know. I’ve made one friend and I can’t get an interview for a job I actuallywantto save my life.”

“Would you move back into your apartment?”

“The tenant just signed another six-month lease, so no, not right away.” I inherited the one-bedroom apartment I grew up in (and its mortgage) when my mom died. My mom was a working actor and single mother and she did the best she could. I admire her for so many reasons, but most of all because no matter how hard things got, she always stayed true to her art. It was her passion. The one lucrative role she ever got allowed us to buy a tiny apartment only one block from one of the more scenic canals, in a quaint but run-down house that was converted in the seventies into two apartments. Ours is on the top floor, with its own rickety exterior staircase and a closed-in balcony with a peek-a-boo view of the water.

My apartment is cozy and cute and still my favorite place on earth, with all its memories and its quirky little Californian personality. It needs a lot of work and there’s still a substantial mortgage to pay off, as well as the forever-ongoing expenses of taxes and insurance. The rent barelycovers its costs, and even though property values have skyrocketed over the past few years, I could never sell it. That would feel like selling off a big chunk of my soul.

“Move in withus!” Jess gushes. “Jacob’s house in Malibu has five bedrooms.”

“Wow, Jess. That’s incredible. But I’m not moving in with you and your new husband—and baby, soon enough. Thanks for the offer though.”

“You could stay with us until you find somewhere else. Just think about it, at least. You’ll have plenty of time to mull it over on the 40-hour drive.”

“True.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yes. I’ll be there by noon on Saturday. Does that work?”

“You can’t get here by Friday night?”

“I’m going to say Saturday just to be on the safe side. It’s going to take me all week to get there.”

“Okay. The ceremony starts at three. If you could get here by noon so we could get ready together, that would be perfect.”

“It’s a date.”

“Lila, I’msoexcited to see you. L.A. isn’t the same without you in it.”

“I’ve missed you too, bestie.”

“Listen, my mom’s here to take me to try on wedding dresses. I would’ve asked you to make me one if it wasn’t sorushed. Call me tomorrow though. We need to talk through details.”

“Okay. I’m working two shifts but I’ll call you in between.”

“You work way too much. There’s seriously a free room for you to call your own here if you want it. You could sew all day and put your own show together.”

As tempting as that might be, it would never work. I’m far too independent to rely on other people. Just like my mother was. The mere thought of mooching off Jess’s new fiancé makes me feel uneasy. I guess it’s one of my quirks. I always need to feel like I’m fully in control of my own destiny. “I’m really happy for you, Jess. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, honey. It means the world to me that you’re coming. Oh, and Lila?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember Brittany Wells?”

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