eyes went wide. “Oh, shit! Babe, I can explain. We’re rehearsing a scene—”
“Oh, give me a friggin’ break!”
The blonde quickly pulled the sheets around her as Dave managed to get one arm free and tried to reach over the edge of the bed for his pants.
Lexi was quicker and snatched them off the floor. “Oh, you need these?” She held the slacks in front of him.
“Lexi, please. This means nothing—”
“It means a helluva lot to me. It means you can’t be trusted.” She pointed at the door as her blood reached the boiling point. “Get! Out!”
“Lexi, calm down—”
“Out!”
“Fine, just give me my pants.” He turned to the blonde. “Untie my other wrist.”
Lexi kept her eyes locked on him as she reached behind her and opened the window that led to the fire escape. She held his linen slacks over the burning candle and they went up like a torch. She tossed them out on the fire escape, where they quickly became a ball of flame.
“Dammit, Lexi, there was five hundred bucks in the pocket!”
“Hey, you’re on a hit TV show. Call it money to burn, asshole. Besides, she only looks like a twenty-dollar whore, so go hit an ATM if you need to pay her.” She saw the blonde start to creep around the bed for her own clothes, but Lexi grabbed them as well and tossed them out the window into the fire. “Wow, silk goes up even faster! Who knew? Now both of you get the hell out of my apartment!”
The blonde slipped on a bra and panties. “In our underwear?”
Lexi whipped out her cell phone and placed a call. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t own anything from the fall Extreme Silicone collection.” The call connected. “Hey, Frankie, grab your camera and get outside our building right now. Catch a rising sitcom star in his tighty whiteys. And his bimbo co-star spilling out of a bra.”
Dave’s eyes went wide. “Who the hell did you call?”
“Paparazzo who lives downstairs. I owed him a favor. Now get out before I set you on fire!”
Kyle Caruso knew what was coming when he opened the door to his office on Monday morning.
One of his new clients had gotten in trouble late Saturday night and needed damage control, quick.
His executive assistant, who also happened to be his older sister, Donna, looked up as he entered the office. “Busy already?” he asked.
“Fuhgeddaboudit,” she said, in her familiar thick New York accent. She handed him a fistful of pink message slips. “Phone’s been ringin’ off the hook. I’ve been tryin’ to keep the media at bay.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. Never expected him to do something so stupid. He seemed like a straight arrow.”
The petite curvy brunette took his arms. “Well, you need to take care of the situation before you get on that plane. The media aint goin’ away on this.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Look, Kyle, with you on the road so much looking for new clients, I think it’s time we got some public relations help, and I think I found the right person. Did you listen to the podcast I gave you from the PR conference I went to on Friday?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Interesting stuff.”
“I particularly liked that woman who dumped the Congressman as a client. The one they were calling Spin Girl after her talk. Sounds like she’s got some high standards. Just what we need.”
“You’re right. She was impressive.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m your older, wiser sister and I know how to look out for my little brother. That’s why I grabbed her business card.” Donna handed it to him. “Why don’t you give her a call? Maybe she’s free today and can help you out.”
***
Lexi entered her office, head held high despite the events of the weekend. While walking in on her boyfriend was emotionally crushing, her revenge chromosome was a dominant one, and she took pleasure in the aftermath thanks to her neighbor the paparazzo, who had taken some terrific photos which ended up splashed across a major newspaper. Chandler looked up and studied her face as he stood up to greet her holding a handful of pink message slips. “Lexi, are you okay?”
She nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“I surmised that after catching your significant other in flagrante delicto with a woman whose hourglass figure has a good deal of sand in the top that your mood might be a somewhat dour one.”
“In other words, you thought I’d be pissed off after catching the sonofabitch nailing a woman who defies the laws of gravity as they apply to halter tops.”
“Basically.”
“Hey, better I know now that I can’t trust someone than after I go down the aisle with him. And I got even.”
“He got what he deserved. I knew he was wrong for you.”
“You’ve said that so many times.”
“Perhaps someday in the future you might start listening to me.” He folded his arms. “Alexandra Rebecca Harlow, you’re too trusting with men. You have to be careful. You’re too much of an open book with men you just meet. You have to play your cards closer to the vest.”
“Yeah, I know. And stop doing the full name thing with me. You’re not my dad.”
“And you knew Dave had a reputation as a player—”
“Okay! I get it! I’ll have the CIA vet the next guy who asks me out and send me a dossier.”
“I’m just looking out for your future endeavors in the romance department.”
“Fine, Chandler, enough about my love life, or lack thereof right now. What’s with all the messages this early in the day?”
“Your talk at the conference seems to be paying dividends. We’ve already had a few calls from prospective new clients.” He handed her the message slips as the phone rang.
Chandler answered the call as she headed for her office while looking at the messages. One decent-sized corporation, a couple of small businesses and a politician she knew to be a decent human being mounting a campaign for next year. She was about to reach for the phone to return the calls when Chandler stuck his head in the door. “Yes, Chandler?”
“Interesting prospect on the line. Sports agent for Noah Washington, the young man from the New York Jets who found himself in a difficult situation Saturday night.”
“Yeah,
