Page 41 of Fool Me

“I know it’s a huge opportunity, and thank you for your kind words,” she told him, “but I'm not in the right place for it.”

The silence on the other end of the line threatened to last into the next century. Her own breathing filled her ears as she waited for…what? The scream? The hang up?

“Fine,” Ronny finally replied. “But if you’re going to do something this stupid, you must come and tell me in person, got it? I’ll be home tonight around seven. I’ll text you the address.”

“I—,” she started to say.

“At seven,” he barked, and hung up.

“So…now you’re going to Ronny’s?” Ginny said.

“Yes, and I’ll be fine by tonight. I won’t need you to drive me.”

“Okay, but I'm wondering—what does a person wear to the funeral of their own career?”

24

Sadie couldn’t care less what she wore to the funeral of her own career, as Ginny had so tactfully put it. She threw on an old white skort she’d worn jogging the previous day and topped it with an ancient white blouse. Yellowish stains peaked out from the armpits, and she reminded herself again that the shirt belonged in the dumpster, not her closet. But as she only needed to knock on Ronny’s door, explain her decision in person as he’d demanded, and drive home to yet another tub of therapeutic frozen yogurt, the stained blouse would do. She just wouldn’t lift her arms over her head.

As if to contrast with the torment ravaging her soul, LA gave Sadie a pleasant, low-traffic drive to Ronny’s house. Every happy couple in the city and their cute, fluffy dog strolled the streets and avenues beneath an azure sky dotted with palm tree poofs and purple-tinged clouds. Evenings like this explained why so many people sacrificed so much to live in her hometown.

Ronny lived in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in LA, and the houses and landscaping became “LA fancier” with every winding, hilly mile she ascended. Once the homes reached peak fancy, however, she couldn’t see them anymore. They were all set far back from the street and protected by tall stone or stucco walls and metal gates.

Arriving at Ronny’s front gate, she found it swung wide. Also, one of his neighbors was holding a massive party, because cars lined the street on both sides and live music played from somewhere. She managed to ever-so-carefully tuck her car between a Benz and a Rolls Royce.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the opportunity,” she muttered to herself by way of practice as she strode, head down, toward the gate. She was concentrating so hard on how best to flatter Ronny and keep her future acting options open, that it took her quite a while to notice the dozens of other people heading in the same direction. Judging by the number of people flooding through his gate, the party was at Ronny’s house and half of Hollywood was there. Not only that, but she’d missed the memo on the dress code. Though, even if she had gotten the memo, her closet offered no loud Hawaiian print shirts or grass skirts.

What the…?

She had just spun on her heels, planning to come back another time, when Ronny appeared at her side and clamped a hand on her shoulder.

“You made it!” he said, his breath smelling sweetly of gin and tonic. Even more surprising was his costume, which, with its loosely tied Hawaiian print toga and golden crown and trident, appeared to be a questionable amalgamation of surfer dude and King Neptune, complete with plastic abs.

“You told me to come,” she said, becoming more confused by the millisecond.

“I did. I did,” he said jovially. After shifting his arm to across her shoulders, he led her through the gate. With his free hand, he waved his golden trident at arriving guests. One couple had reversed their costumes, with the woman in a neon flowered button-down shirt and shorts and the man in a flowing grass skirt and coconut husk bra. “Now, Fred, wherehaveyou been hiding those legs?” Ronny quipped to the man, and the couple laughed.

Up ahead, the top half of Ronny’s home gleamed above the landscaping like a monument to wealth. The stunning, mid-century modern in whites and grays did remind her, as Grant had said, of a futuristic house. The live music she’d heard faintly before rang out clearly now—a Beach Boys cover band. Or, knowing Ronny’s resources, maybe whatever was left of the original band?

“What’s…what’s happening here? Are you throwing a party?” Sadie asked.

Ronny’s mouth flew open. “My dear, you are at the Hollywood party of the year! MySurf Summerreveal.”

Like Dorothy’s tinman running out of oil, Sadie’s legs came to an instant and complete standstill.

Surf Summerreveal meantJulia.

Surf Summer reveal meantGrant.

Surf Summerreveal meant Julia and Granttogether.

Pulling away from Ronny, she took a step backward toward the gate. “I…I can’t be here. Let’s meet another time.”

Stepping forward, Ronny gripped her upper arm with surprising firmness. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Look, we’ll just pop over here to the side and have our quiet convo, and then you can be on your way.” He gestured toward a picturesque, cobblestone pathway. Edged with flowery landscaping to the left, a wall of dense, tall greenery shielded it from the house on the right. “You don’t want to drive all the way up here again.”

The path looked empty, and the party guests around them were all headed straight for the house. Grant and Julia, the guests of honor, must be there already, enjoying the spotlight oftheirparty. On the other hand, knowing Julia, their arrival might be as late possible—all the better to create a grand entrance. What Sadie needed to say to Ronny would take less than a minute. If she kept the wall of greenery between her and the house, she should be safe.

She nodded and headed down the path, Ronny close behind.

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