Beware of Boys (5 page)

Mr. Day pointed. “And you might want to check out that third sheet, Charly. That's the biggest news yet.” He smiled and winked.

Charly flipped over the paper, and gulped. “Does this say what I think it says?”

Mr. Day nodded. “Yes, you can read. That's how huge this is, and that's how great I am—how much I believe in you and Liam. Once you complete this project and work on the others with the guys—they're opening multiple girls' retreats throughout the country—you'll get your other makeover show, which will air immediately following
The Extreme Dream Team
. You're only going to get a one-season contract, but it's a beginning.”

C
harly stood in the middle of the tarmac with one hand on her hip and the other drying her runny nose with the kazillionth Kleenex she'd used since she'd left New York. Drowsy from the allergy medicine she'd taken again just an hour before, her usually sharp brain was discombobulated, and she had a hard time comprehending what she didn't see at Las Vegas's airport. One, she thought, it should have been much bigger and, two, Vegas was a tourist spot, so surely the plane should've had a walkway that connected to the terminal. She looked at the small aircraft's stairwell, waiting for the other passengers to deplane. Passengers she'd never gotten a chance to see because she'd reached the airstrip around five-ish in the morning, right after she'd guzzled a dose of nighttime Benadryl. She had been the first one to board, and had immediately fallen asleep after she'd buckled in and cozied up with a blanket in the smallest first-class section she'd ever seen. It was now around seven in the morning, Pacific Standard Time, and her eyes were still heavy. She stretched, almost knocking off the large sunglasses that covered most of her face, then adjusted her floppy yet fashionable sun hat, which was pulled down over the tops of her ears. She may not have been a Rihanna or a Taylor, but she'd accumulated enough television time and fans to want to hide from the public when she wasn't looking her best. “Where is everybody?” she asked no one, seeing the flight attendants descend the staircase, which had wheels underneath it.

Charly turned toward the terminal where the flight attendants had instructed her to go before she'd departed the craft. An SUV pulled up behind her, pulling her attention as it zoomed, then screeched to a stop. She glanced at the large black vehicle, thinking it strange for an SUV to be on the runway, especially one that moved like it was from NASCAR. It had to be dangerous for anything with wheels, other than vehicles belonging to the airport, to be on the tarmac. She shrugged. So far everything about Las Vegas was a bit weird to her. Strange and desolate, she decided, looking around and getting a better view of her surroundings. She spotted only a few other planes and a handful of people walking around, most of them dressed in some sort of blah-colored airport gear.

“Excuse me? Charly St. James?” a woman's voice called from the direction of the black SUV.

Charly turned back toward the vehicle and eased her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. The woman she'd set her eyes on was at least six-foot-two and dressed in a full business suit. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she looked like a mannequin. She was also young looking, and not grandmotherly like Mr. Day had described her chaperone. Charly didn't know who she was, so she decided to be cautious. “Yes?” she answered, then hated that she did because immediately her head started to pound.

A big smile spread across the woman's face, and she began to walk over to Charly. “Ms. St. James, I'm Eden Gardens,” she said, nearing Charly in seconds, thanks to her long elegant strut.

Charly nodded, then pursed her lips. She was trying to refrain from uttering the words whirling through her mind.
Garden of Eden.
“Oh . . . kay, and that means?” Charly said. She wasn't trying to be rude, but she didn't know the woman and she didn't want to ask too many questions, because then she'd have to keep thinking and responding. She'd better be quiet or else it was going to pound even more.

“That means I'm your chaperone.” She smiled wider. “Didn't they tell you I'd be here for you, sis?”

Even though stretching her lips was a task because of being medicated, Charly returned the smile. This Eden Gardens may have been her chaperone, but she didn't exude authority. Her referring to Charly as sis made Charly feel they were on equal ground. She didn't feel like she had to be on guard or uneasy around her. Giving Eden the once-over, Charly appreciated the woman's style, even though she questioned how the woman wasn't sweating in the sweltering Las Vegas heat. Upon closer inspection, she found it hard to keep from calling her Garden of Eden because Eden, who'd looked like a mannequin when she was yards away, was almost a vision of perfection up close and her vibe was soothing. The woman had perfect skin, a build models would starve and beg for, and her smile radiated warmth and kindness. In a neat package, Eden exuded the confidence Charly wanted the girls on the show she was planning to have once she was finished making them over from the inside out. Eden also didn't look old enough to be anyone's chaperone. Charly wouldn't have guessed her to be over twenty-five, give or take a year. She shrugged, blaming it on Eden's beauty and melanin, and appreciated the comfort the woman's presence offered.

“It's truly nice to meet you. Please call me Charly,” Charly said, nasally, suddenly feeling even more stuffed up.

Eden proffered her hand. “Only if you'll call me Eden, and try not to view me as your warden. I know a lot of celebs view us that way, because we're hired chaperones, and many think that means guardians. So, I just want you to know I'm here to get you where you have to go, make sure you're okay, and make sure you have everything and anything you need. But I'm not here to police you, just provide.”

“I like you, Eden,” Charly said, shaking Eden's hand. Now she really dug Eden's style, especially the no-policing part of it. “Okay, so I guess we just need to stop by baggage claim, so I can grab my luggage, then we're off.” She removed her palm from Eden's, then blew her nose. “That is . . . if we're safe. You drove up like you were at a drag strip, not an airport, so I'm not so sure about that,” she added as an afterthought.

“Whip—I mean the driver—used to . . . well, you're kind of right; he used to race, but you have nothing to worry about, he won't drive that way with you in the car.” Eden laughed, then shook her head in wonder. “And carry your own bags? Really? Charly. Charly. Charly. You're fresh—new—unaffected. No diva tendencies. I like that! You're going to be a pleasure to work with. And I hope your cold gets better.” She walked toward the limo.

Charly tilted her head, following Eden. She knew she wasn't like many assumed she'd be; she'd heard that many times. What hadn't graced her hearing was that she was a pleasure to work with. She was much too jazzy for the average person. She spoke her mind, and that usually didn't go over too well with others. “Just allergies. Unaffected? How?” she asked Eden.

“You're refreshing, Charly. How many people's egos wouldn't be affected by being flown out private? Seems you're pretty special.” Eden winked, then rapped her knuckles against the vehicle, obviously trying to get the driver's attention. “And you have a great sense of humor too. You know there's no baggage claim here. Not at a private airport.” She laughed and waved her hand at Charly's statement, obviously mistaking it as a joke.

Charly shrugged, then laughed at herself, though she hadn't meant to be funny. Flying private had been the furthest thing from her mind when she'd boarded and after she'd landed. Yes, she'd flown exclusive—that's what first class was to her—but she had been too tired to think about how she was traveling when she had gotten on the plane in Teterboro, New Jersey, which was nicknamed the Clearport. It was barely ten miles outside of New York, and served as the favorite airport of VIPs, or so Mr. Day had told her. Now she understood why she had only seen a couple other people getting off the plane. It wasn't a flight many could've afforded, and she put herself in that same category because she wouldn't buy anything too pricey—unless, of course, someone counted bags and shoes. “All right for my being refreshing and funny, Eden. Ready when you are,” she said, but thought,
All right for me not knowing commercial from private
.
That's one I won't ever admit.
She laughed at her own joke, then cringed from her pounding temples. “Thank you,” she said to Eden, who'd opened the back door for her, then slid inside the SUV.

“No problem,” Eden said with a smile in her voice.

Charly could hear the driver adjusting her luggage in the trunk before he closed it, then heard him make his way to the side of the SUV, rapping a 2 Chainz song. The door banged shut, making the vehicle move. Charly jumped, opening her eyes, which she hadn't even realized she'd closed. Eden sat next to her, thumbing through a notebook, then turned her attention toward the front and deliberately cleared her throat.

“Don't forget,” Eden said to the driver, biting her lip and wearing a concerned expression. “And you do remember the way, right?”

The driver half turned. “Whip won't whip the whip. That's what I promised, right? Professional. Got it. And of course I know where I'm going. Vegas belongs to me.” He closed the divider that separated the front of the SUV from the back before Eden could respond.

Eden nodded, and her worried look disappeared. “Whip, his nickname,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. “Lex had a different camp out here, and we just moved to the new location less than a week ago. That's why I asked Whip if he knew where he was going,” she explained. She crossed her mile-long legs, then gave the notebook her undivided attention. Charly almost asked her what she was reading, but she didn't want to disturb her. She wanted to sleep. Eden looked at her, then nodded. “You might as well get some more rest while you can. It's going to be a long day, I'm sure.” Eden half stood and reached forward, knocking on the divider. “Please
continue
to drive at a comfortable speed.”

“Thank you,” Charly said, glad for the reprieve. She needed a siesta, even if it was only for a few minutes. “Are we checking into my room—” She stopped, interrupted by the SUV suddenly racing at lightening speed.

Eden stomped her foot on the floor of the vehicle, shaking her head. The SUV slowed. She shook her head, then looked puzzled. “Room? Hotel room? Should I book you a room?” Her tone bordered on anxious.

Even though she was tired, Charly perked up. Surely the network wouldn't have let her travel to Las Vegas without accommodations. She pursed her lips. “I'm not being rude, but I have to stay somewhere, Eden. This isn't a one-day turn-around trip, you know?”

Eden smiled that warm smile again, and made Charly's tenseness almost disappear. “Of course you do. There's a private guest cottage on Lex's property where the training camp is, and it's all set up for you. They thought it would be better for you to work close together, proximity wise, that is. Plus, if you were up in one of the penthouse suites at one of the casinos, you'd all get rushed by fans and paparazzi—none of you would be able to work, especially with the leaks.”

“Leaks?” Charly questioned.

Eden pressed her lips together. “Yes, leaks. Multiple ones. First the story leaked about the girls' retreat, and it was wrong, of course. Then we fixed it. And there was the leak about you hosting a show for the retreat before we went public. And now there's talk about you getting a show.” Her smile returned, and Charly wondered how everyone knew she was pushing for another show. “See, you and the guys are hot topics.”

“Wow. I haven't even signed papers yet, which means my show is in talks. As you know, nothing is concrete until the cement is poured, dried, and walked on.” Charly nodded. That was all she could do because she was so tired. “And the cottage sounds good. Please wake me when we get close. I want to refresh my face before we get there,” she said.

Eden laughed again, this time softer and lower. “Charly. Charly. Charly. No worries. Remember, you'll be staying in your own place. You'll have plenty of time to nap and freshen up before your meeting. And hopefully your medication will kick in before then.” Eden flipped through some papers, then pulled one out of the pile. She handed it over to Charly. “I know you're tired, but I need to show you this. See. That's your itinerary for the week. Faizon isn't scheduled to be here until tomorrow morning, and who knows when or if M
kel will show—he may just send his people to handle his portion. So you have plenty of time. Oh!” she exclaimed, pointing to the paper again. “There's one thing missing on that. I'll update it, then give you the new one. The guys have this big—huge—event planned, a gala of sorts, and you're one of the showcases. It's going to cause a big buzz for the girls' center. We're talking radio, television . . .”

Charly yawned loudly, stretching her arms and ignoring the mention of M
kel. She couldn't help it. She didn't mean to cut Eden off or have her believe she wasn't listening, because she was. It was just that the medication was kicking her butt and her brain was hurting, and any thoughts or discussion about M
kel would make bad worse. “Sorry. I don't mean to be rude. Can we go over it later? I have an epic headache, and I didn't sleep off the meds.”