Red Carpets & White Lies by Lea Black

Author:Lea Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beaufort Books
Published: 2015-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

DO TELL

Hi babe! Call me, I think I can get Mariah to come. Maybe perform...

—Joe Francis

A few days later it was business as usual, with ringtones and gossip flying left and right. Leigh and Jeffrey went over to-do lists and fielded the calls together from Leigh’s breakfast nook, shouting “Incoming!” each time one of their phones exploded.

Lorraine Manchester was the first to check in, and the second, and the third. Leigh had evidently put the fear of God in her by mentioning Mario Lopez after the meeting yesterday; and even if Mario wasn’t confirmed yet, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. There was little Leigh could say to reassure her, and truth be told, Lorraine’s over-enthusiasm wasn’t doing her any favors. Leigh already knew that she’d be a great help to the gala, and a much-needed volunteer as always; but Lorraine’s constant calls, emails, texts and demands were getting out of control. Having already sent a few texts that morning, she was now calling again. Leigh couldn’t believe it—it was the second morning in a row that she’d called before noon! It wasn’t like her; she usually worked late at the clubs and partied until dawn, and very rarely called until late in the day.

When Leigh picked up, she didn’t even say hello before launching in.

“Leigh, you’ll never guess who might fly in for the gala,” she screamed into the phone.

“Well, good morning yourself, Lorraine,” Leigh said. “You must have someone pretty incredible to tell me about, to be calling so early. Weren’t you out at a black-tie party last night?”

“Ohmygodyes—in the most gorgeous black velvet gown! I’ll have to show you the photos. And I had the most outrageous thing happen to me; I’ll tell you about it after. Or maybe I’d better tell you about it first; oh, goodness!”

“That’s more like it! I’ll hear your gala news after.” She signaled Jeffrey to bring her another cup of tea, and settled in; these conversations were never short. “What happened?”

“Well, darling, it was like this. You know the party was at that beautiful mansion-house up on Ocean Drive? I was hostessing, of course, and doing the most fabulous job of it. There was a line out the door to be photographed with me, and I think I got carpal tunnel writing autographs. Well, halfway through the evening—around 1 a.m.—I excused myself to freshen up. The wife of the house, cheeky bitch that she is, asked me whether I’d be looking for the men’s or the women’s room; she thought she was so clever! (And they actually have both in that mansion house, you know.) Anyhow, I was ready for her. I said both of those were for the guests—and surely she could show me to something better!

“While she was trying to come up with something smart to say, her husband offered to show me to the master bathroom upstairs. He had to use it too, he said; so he’d just wait and use it afterward, if that was all right with me.

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