LITMIR.BIZ

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Besides, I know the kids will love you. I was going to ask Brooke, too.”

      â€œOh.” She ducked her head, looking sheepish. “These kids, are they all ill?”

      â€œMostly, yes. But many are in recovery, thank goodness. I’m slated to do a promo spot in a few days with some of the kids to raise funds and awareness about the good the hospital does. I’ve donated a little to the new wing of the hospital and I guess that’s why they’ve asked me.”

      â€œYou donated 1.3 million dollars to the new wing, Dylan. I read that online. It’s going to be amazing. The new wing will have a screening room with interactive games for the kids.”

      He smiled. “So what do you say?”

      â€œYes, of course I’ll go.”

      â€œThanks, Em. Now, let’s get back inside before Brooke sends out a search party for us.”

      Emma’s laughter filled his ears and made him smile again.

      * * *

      Late Wednesday afternoon, Emma hung up the phone with Mrs. Alma Montalvo, rested her arms on her office desk and hung her head. The client was delirious about details and had sapped Emma’s energy for two long hours. Yes, they’d found a local band to play fifties tunes. Yes, they’d rented a ’57 Chevy and it would be parked strategically at the top of their multitiered lawn for added effect. Yes, they’d have a photo booth decked out with leather jackets, poodle skirts and car club insignia for the guests to wear as they had their photos snapped. Yes, yes, yes.

      Thank goodness the party was this Saturday night. After it was over, she and Brooke could take their big fat check from Mrs. Montalvo and say, Hasta la vista, baby. Parties-To-Go has come and gone.

      The chime above the door rang out Leslie Gore’s classic song “It’s My Party” and Emma glanced up.

      â€œHey, I thought you were going home early today,” Brooke said, entering their Santa Monica office.

      â€œI thought I was, too, but Mrs. Montalvo had other ideas.”

      Brooke rolled her eyes. “We’ll impress the hell out of her, Emma. The party is going to be top-notch.”

      â€œIt better be. I’ve put in extra hours on this one.”

      Brooke grinned and set down shopping bags on the desk adjacent to Emma’s. The office furnishings were an eclectic mix, all colorful and light to convey a party atmosphere for clients. The desks were clear Plexiglas, the walls were painted bright pastels and the chairs were relics that had been upholstered in floral materials. Photos of their parties and events adorned the walls from hoedowns on local ranch properties to rich, elaborate weddings with a few celebrity endorsements mixed in, thanks to Dylan.

      They had two part-time employees who came in after school and on weekends to answer phones, do online research and work the parties whenever needed.

      â€œTake a look at this,” Brooke said, pulling a mocha cocktail dress from a box in one of the bags. “Isn’t it...perfect? I got it at the little shop on Broadway.”

      â€œWow, it’s gorgeous. And not black. I bet it’s for the San Diego golf dinner, right?”

      Brooke was shaking her head. “Nope, not at all. You’ll never guess.”

      Emma’s thoughts ran through a list of upcoming events and couldn’t come up with anything. “Don’t make me, then. Tell me!”

      Brooke put the dress up to her chin, hugged it to her waist and twirled around, just like when they used to play dress-up and pretend to be princesses ready to meet their special prince.

      â€œI have a date.” Brooke sang out the words and stomped her feet.

      It shouldn’t be that monumental, but Brooke seldom dated. After graduating from college, they’d both been focused on the business. And Brooke was picky when it came to men. So this was a big deal, judging by the megawatt, light-up-Sunset-Boulevard smile on her face. “The best part is, he doesn’t know who I am.”

      Or rather, who her brother was. Most people, men and women alike, showed interest in Brooke once they found out that Dylan was her big brother. It sucked big-time and made Brooke wary of any friendliness coming her way. She was never sure if there was an ulterior motive.

      â€œI mean, of course he knows my name is Brooke. We met at Adele’s Café. We were both waiting for our take-out lunch orders and it took forever. But once we got to talking, neither of us minded the long wait.”

      â€œWhen was this?”

      â€œYesterday.”

      â€œAnd you didn’t tell me!” Wasn’t that like breaking the BFF rule?

      â€œI didn’t know if he’d call.” She hugged the dress one last time, before carefully stowing it back in the box. “But he did this morning and asked me out for the following weekend. And get this, he wanted to see me sooner but I told him about the event this weekend and he seemed really disappointed. We don’t have anything next weekend. Tell me we don’t. The golf tournament is in three weeks, right?”

      Emma punched it up on her computer and glanced at their calendar. “Right, but you’re so excited, even if we had an event, I’d relieve you of your duties. I’ve never seen you so gaga. What’s his name?”

      â€œRoyce Brisbane. He’s in financial planning.”

      Emma dug her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from chuckling. “You, with a suit?”

      â€œYes, but he looks dreamy in it.”

      â€œWow, Brooke. You really like this guy. You shopped.” Brooke was not a shopper. She had one color in her wardrobe arsenal, basic black, and she wore it like armor every day.

      â€œI think I do like him. A lot. It was so easy talking to him. We have a lot in common.”

      â€œTell me more.”

      After getting the full details on Royce Brisbane, Emma’s thoughts went to Brooke’s upcoming date on the drive home. Emma had to admit, the guy sounded good on paper. If he made Brooke happy, then she was all for it. She hadn’t seen Brooke smile so much in months. That could be a good thing, or a bad thing. A very bad thing. The more you care about someone, the more they could potentially hurt you. But Emma wouldn’t poke a hole in Brooke’s happy balloon; her friend deserved to have a good time.

      Emma parked in her apartment structure and climbed out of her car. Her legs were two strands of thin spaghetti tonight. It was an effort to walk across the courtyard to her front door. She shoved the sticky door open with her body and glimpsed her comfy sofa with cushy pillows and a quilt she could curl up in. She dropped her purse unceremoniously onto the coffee table, sank down onto the sofa and let out a relieved sigh.

      A hundred details ran through her head. The upcoming golf event was first and foremost in her mind. It wasn’t for a few weeks yet, but it was a big opportunity for the business. She did yet another mental check, making sure all bases were covered, before she could really relax. Somewhat confident she hadn’t forgotten anything, she lay her head down and stretched her legs out, allowing the cushions to envelop her weary body.

      If only she could go mindless for a while. Sometimes she envied people who could close everything off and go blank. Just...be. She tended to overthink everything, which made her excellent at her job, but a sad prospect for a carefree lifestyle.

      The night of the memorial for Roy Benjamin played in her head and she immediately zoomed in on Dylan McKay. The way he had held her on the beach, the way she had felt when his hand covered hers possessively, the way his mouth had moved

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