Feast of Saints (31 page)

She snatched up her heavy backpack and shoved it against him, pushing him back away from her.

When Wil tried to take it from her and walk her to the door, she yanked it out of his hand and stalked off.

No sooner had Lilly dropped the heavy pack in her room, than her phone rang. It was Maya.

“The plan is to head to Gaonnuri for some bibimbap at nine forty-five, then to the club. You can ride with me, Alan, Monty and Jake. Frances and Carl are meeting us there.”

“I’m not going to be able to make it, Maya. I promised to meet someone for dinner.” Raoul had invited her to dine with him at Nobu Fifty Seven. Although when Raoul learned about the party at Jake’s club, he might prefer to join the group. She felt a twinge of guilt at the selfish impulse to just not tell him so that she could avoid Jake.

“Yes, yes, I know all about that,” said Maya dismissively. “Raoul’s been pestering me since Italy about you. You two can have your date. We’ll swing by Nobu and pick you up after.”

Learning that Raoul was viewing tonight’s dinner as a date should have thrilled her. Twenty minutes ago, it would have. Before Jake had dispelled her notion that he didn’t want her working on
Strange
. That he was willing to work
for her
. That he wanted her to sign with Mjicon. Before he so brutally reminded her how much she desperately wanted him.

At Lilly’s silence, Maya threatened, “Don’t you dare stick me with Frances. She’s probably never been to a nightclub in her entire life.”

Even if she might want to go, Lilly didn’t have anything to wear. “I came here expecting to work all week. There’s no way I’m setting foot in Vibe wearing what I’ve got in my suitcase.”

“Lilly, you are a half block from Fifth Avenue in one direction and Madison in the other.”

“I don’t have time to dress shop, Maya. I’m sorry, you’re just going to have to put on your dancing shoes without me.”

“What happened to, ‘I’ll always be there for you, Maya’? Or, was that just to get me to do what you wanted?”

Lilly blew out a breath and counted to five. Maya was good, you had to give her that.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll look in every window from here to Fifty-Seventh. If something jumps out at me and doesn’t cost a king’s ransom, I’ll come. But I don’t have time to browse, and by the time dinner’s over the stores will be closed. If I can’t find something right off the bat, I’m just not coming.”

“Great, that’s settled. We’ll pick you up at nine-fifteen.”

“No way.” No way was she getting back into a car with Jake tonight. As the fury that had consumed her over the last two weeks dissipated, she was left feeling vulnerable and confused where Jake was concerned.

“If… and that’s a big if… I find a suitable dress
and shoes
on the way to meet Raoul, I’ve still got to come back here to change. I can take a cab and meet you at Vibe. I’ll let Raoul know where you are and text you if he wants to meet up earlier.”

“Fine, fine. Be at Jake’s club at eleven-thirty. Don’t be late.”

Hanging up, Lilly sat for a moment, staring at her phone. She had two urgent messages from Ravi. It was late afternoon in LA. She called Ravi.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” he said before she even had a chance to greet him. “When will you be back in LA? You need to fit me into your schedule. You’ve got some choice projects, here.”

She’d be home the next day, but she was headed out again early Sunday. She’d need every moment in between to pack for the Maui location.

“How about Tuesday, two weeks from now?”

Ravi clucked. “These are hot opportunities,” he said. “Let’s not wait too long.”

“Ravi, can you tell me the top two or three?”

“They’re all on the same film,” he said. “Wait until you hear….”

She cut him off. “Gilliam, del Toro, Jackson?”

“You already knew? Lilly, these are perfect for you.”

Chapter 22

Lilly kept her promise and did look in every window on the way to Nobu. Enchanted by the designer labels, she even went beyond Fifty-Seventh, up to Prada and Gucci, but she saw nothing that fit the atmosphere of a club like Vibe. She’d just have to beg Maya for forgiveness for no-showing.

Over dinner, try as she might, she could not put the argument with Jake, and the almost kiss, out of her mind. Or the offers to work on
Jonathan Strange
. Rattling around in the mixed up turmoil of her thoughts and feelings was Sierra Nighly as Arabella Woodhope.

Too distracted to hold up her end of the conversation, she instead asked Raoul questions about his youth, about Italy, his view of Americans, places he’d traveled to and so on. Every time a subject ran its course, she’d ask another question to keep him talking.

Raoul was a lovely man to watch. His eyes were emerald green and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was animated when he told a story, freely using his hands to help paint the pictures: how high, how small, how hilly, how flat. Lilly was sure he was saying interesting things in response to all of her questions, but she didn’t hear a word.

She was finally caught not paying attention when she told him twice about the after-party at Vibe.

“You ought to go. Maya will be there, and Alan, Monty, Frances. Even Carl.”

Raoul looked up from paying the bill and regarded her.

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” he said sadly. “I have to leave right away for the airport. I’m on a night flight to Rome.”

She chewed her bottom lip, wishing she could withdraw her last words. He’d already told her that he had to leave right after dinner.

Trying to cover her mistake, she said breezily, “Oh, I know, it’s just that it’s such a shame. You’ll be missed.” She frantically sorted through the echo of their dinner conversation in her head, trying to pluck out why he’d said he had to be home.

“You’re recording your new television show,” she blurted.

“That’s right,” he said softly, closing the bill folder. “Thanks to you, I’ll get a day of rest before we start.”

Regarding her kindly, he asked, “Is everything alright, Lilly?”

Oh, no. Lilly felt her lips tremble. Please don’t ask, she thought. Or look at me so soulfully with those beautiful green eyes. Thinking of Maya’s comment about their “date” and knowing she’d wasted his evening, she felt terrible. She owed him some kind of explanation.

“I’m having a little relationship trouble,” she said. “I’m sorry I’ve been such poor company.”

Raoul reached across the table and took her hand in his.

“Would you like to tell me about it? I know a little about love,” he said. “And a lot about men.”

“That makes one of us,” she said, laughing so as not to cry. She sat quietly for a few moments and held on to his hand.

When she was sure she could speak without dissolving into tears, she said, “Thank you. I may take you up on that. Just not tonight.”

She squeezed the hand holding hers. “Besides, it would take too long to explain and you’ll miss your flight.”

Raoul stood, pulling her up with him and into a warm embrace.

“
Fortunato figlio di una cagna
,” he muttered to the ceiling in Italian. Then, dipping his head, repeated in English, his lips against her hair, “Lucky son of a bitch.”

Two hours after dropping Lilly at her hotel, Jake was still kicking himself. Why could he not keep his cool around her? Phillip, Jennis, the people who worked for him, would be shocked by his behavior around her. He dealt with difficult people and complicated deals every day. He’d earned respect as a firm but even-tempered person. A good manager. Rational. A people-person for God’s sake. But Lilly could set him off half-cocked within seconds.

The other day, when he’d walked in on her making up Alan for a screen test, it had taken every ounce of his self-control not to rip Alan out of his chair and pulverize him. From behind they’d looked like two lovers. Bare-backed Lilly leaning over a half-naked Alan. For one murderous frozen moment he’d lost all perception of reality, any semblance of rationality.

Tapping his phone, he zeroed in on her location. She was still at DeNiro’s Nobu restaurant on Fifty-Seventh. Right after Maya had called him to tell him to make her come to the after-party, he’d watched her walk there. A bright red dot moving down Madison, then Fifth Avenue, obviously on foot.

“Maya, I can’t make Lilly do anything she doesn’t want to do,” he’d said in answer to her demand that he solve the problem of Lilly coming, or not coming, to Vibe.

“Just call her and tell her the dress code is relaxed. She’s refusing to come because she doesn’t have anything to wear.”

“Is that what she said?” he asked, dubious.

“Yes. And frankly, she probably doesn’t. But I want her to go so you have to make her.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

Two phone calls later, Lilly’s wardrobe objection had been handled. Now for the harder part. Throwing on his coat, Jake headed for the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. He’d just have to figure it out on the way there.

It was a brief walk from Jennis’ home on the Upper East Side to Nobu. By the time he passed Bergdorf’s and headed right on Fifty-Seventh, he’d given up trying to think of the right thing to say and just focused on keeping his cool. He would apologize. He’d apologize, and then he would let her talk and promise not to lose it, no matter what she said.

But when he topped the stairs and saw Raoul Bova’s dark head lean in close to Lilly’s bright one across a small table backlit by the sushi bar, Jake’s resolve, and his control, slipped.

The hostess rushed to greet him. “Mr. Durant, are you alone this evening?”

“No,” he said, without looking at the hostess.

“Mr. DeNiro is dining with us. I’m sure he would want your party to join him, if that would be your pleasure.”

Jake ignored her as he watched Bova take Lilly’s hand and hold it. She didn’t pull away. She held it, and then she smiled at him, saying something Jake couldn’t hear, still holding his hand.

If he had tried something like that…. Just face it, he told himself, he repelled her. Give up for Christ’s sake.

When Bova stood and took Lilly in his arms and lowered his mouth to her hair, Jake turned on his heel and left, leaving the courteous hostess gaping after him.

“No excuses,” Maya’s cryptic note read, taped to the garment bag lying across her bed upon her return from dinner with Raoul. Inside the bag was a shiny violet Herve Leger bandage dress. Beneath it, a white Miu Miu cashmere trench coat. Two boxes sat on the bed as well. Wrapped in tissue inside the boxes were a silvery beaded Fendi wristlet clutch and a pair of python embossed Alexander Wang heels.

Lilly sat next to the dress, fingering the shimmering, stretchy fabric. The V-necked dress was cut low in the back and the hem would hit mid-thigh. She could at least try it on. Stepping out of the shower, she slipped on the dress and sandals and danced around the room. The shiny fabric hugged her torso and hips and boosted her bust. It was the perfect non-clubby, club dress. She could face anybody in this dress, she thought, even Jake.

Picking up her phone, she called Maya.

“Hello? Lilly? It’s so loud in here. Hold on.”

She listened as Maya excused herself and walked somewhere quieter. “You got the dress, right? No excuses now. Are you coming here? We’re still at the restaurant.”

“Maya, the dress, the coat, the shoes, the purse, they’re gorgeous, but I can’t accept this. This costs more than my monthly salary. Thank you, it’s really thoughtful, but…”

Maya cut her off. “Don’t thank me. They’re from Jake. I just dropped them in your room. And he can afford it. If you let me down, I’ll never forgive you.”

Two hours later, the excitement of her new outfit, and her butterflies over the fact that it had been a gift from Jake, were wearing off and Lilly was starting to regret coming to the club. Here she was, in the ultra-plush, ultra-modern VIP lounge at Vibe, overlooking the most popular dance floor in New York City, just sitting. Maya was sitting next to her sipping a bright blue drink that looked like anti-freeze and nodding at Monty who was shouting a story at them about his last film. It was loud, but Monty shouted much louder than was necessary to be heard over the music.

Jake, impeccably sexy in a black tailored shirt and black trousers, was seated on the other side of Monty talking with Frances and Carl. Frances, as Maya predicted, had clearly never set foot inside a club like Vibe. She was sporting her familiar capris and flats. Alan had disappeared almost as soon as they had arrived, and rematerialized several tables away, talking with DJ Premier and Jay-Z.

Swinging her leg in time to the driving dance music, Lilly looked at Maya and, at a break in Monty’s shouting, observed grudgingly, “I thought we came here to dance?”

Maya pouted, “Did you see that crowd on the dance floor? There’s no way I can go out there.”

The crowd was half the fun, she thought. At least, if you were a nobody like Lilly. She was forced to admit that if Maya took to the dance floor with her, the crowd was likely to swarm over them. Even if they survived, it would be bloody.

She set down her vodka and grapefruit drink, deciding to quit her VIP companions. She was going to dance. She looked around the room. She recognized several faces, including the gap-toothed smile of Michael Strahan, former New York Giant turned morning show host, laughing with two other equally huge footballers. As much as she idolized Michael, she couldn’t imagine asking him to join her on the dance floor. She was smaller than even Kelly Ripa. They’d look ridiculous.

Lilly scanned the room again. There had to be at least one likely mark.

“Are you waiting for someone, Lilly?” asked Jake, leaning around Monty, cutting into her furious inspection.

“Yes, a dance partner,” she said, returning to her scanning. “Seems a shame to just sit here with such a good DJ.”

Jake stood and held out his hand to her. “I’ll dance with you.”

Her laser gaze settled on Jake. Her heart galloped. She could do this, couldn’t she? She could dance with Jake.

Taking his hand, she said, “Yes. Please.”

Not letting go of her hand, he led her downstairs and to the center of the dance floor. As always happened in a crowd with Jake, he moved and the sea of people parted before him.

Lilly, trailing behind, admired his silky black back. The man could walk. His shoulders and hips moved with each deliberate step, sinuous and smooth.

In the midst of the packed floor, Jake suddenly turned and reeled her in so fast that she woofed with an outrush of breath.

The man could
dance
. Gone was the brutal man in the car. When Jake settled his palm in the small of her back, firm and strong, she recognized the leading hand of an expert. The electronic tones of M83 flooded the room. Jake let the beat build, holding her against his side, his thigh dangerously close to riding up the hem of her dress.

“Ready?” he asked. She barely nodded, heart in her throat, before he spun her out like he was unfurling a party favor. She didn’t even try to control her movements. She didn’t have to, as Jake led her in time to the pounding beat. Within his considerable arm span, she was Anna Pavlova, Ginger Rogers and Lee Hyori all at once, spinning to the rhythm, grounded only by his firm hold on her hand and the occasional press of his palm at the small of her back that alternately steered and corralled her, preventing her from whirling out of control.

At the end of the first song, Jake dipped her and bowed over her. “Had enough?” He was challenging her.

“Not unless you have,” she said breathlessly.

He brought her up, hard against his body. “I could do this all night,” he said. Suddenly she was spinning out again, and back, moving to the heart attack, euro beat of David Guetta. The room dissolved into a blur of light and sound and sensory bliss.

Inspired by Jake’s presence and a shift to hip-hop on the next song, the entire VIP lounge took to the dance floor. Even Maya joined them. Lilly gleefully hugged her. Jake and three former New York Giants, including Lilly’s secret crush, Michael Strahan, surrounded the girls. The wall of male flesh intimidated anyone from trying to push too close. When Jake flung her into Strahan, who spun her back again in a nifty swing move, she was beaming from ear to ear.

At four in the morning, Jake, Lilly and eighty other people were still on the dance floor, although Maya had slipped away an hour before. Since Jake owned the place, the staff didn’t dare close while he was so obviously enjoying himself.

Jake ran a hand through his damp hair and smiled sideways at her. They’d been dancing practically non-stop for three hours, touching each other, laughing. It was the first time she’d seen him like this. With her.

She’d completely let go of her anger. He wanted her on
Strange
. He wanted her to join Mjicon. He wanted her in his arms, in this gorgeous dress.

Standing on the dance floor, waiting for the next song, she took both of his hands in hers. “Thank you for the beautiful dress, it’s perfect. And the scarf. It’s perfect, too.”

Jake looked at her small hands holding his.

“You’re welcome,” he said. She didn’t let go, and neither did he.

Ale8, the guest DJ, finally broke their trance. “Last dance, folks. Last dance,” he announced, closing out the night with the warm tones of Fanfarlo’s “Shiny Things.”

Jake spun her gently at first, then faster, pulling her close and cupping the back of her head against his shoulder as he continued to spin, just this side of control. Then he slowed, setting up an easy rhythm of side-to-side steps and released her enough to let her drop her head back against his palm.

“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked, looking down at her upturned face, echoing her own question for him. She’d never learned. She just loved moving with the music.

“I didn’t,” she said. “I’m just following you.”

“That’s a first,” he laughed. Before she could utter a retort, he spun her around again, then steered her off the dance floor to the door where Wil stood waiting, holding her coat and clutch purse.