‘ June, I’ m putting you in charge of the gas giveaway promotion. I’ d like to see it happen within the month.’

At last& the reason I was here. Apparently, not only was my project approved, but I’ d been given the lead on it. Over Lizbeth, no less! As delighted as I was, I was smart enough to squelch any show of emotion. ‘ Great,’  I said, trying to sound casual. I dared not look directly at Lizbeth for fear I’ d be turned into a salt pillar on the spot.

‘ Gas giveaway?’  I heard her say. Clearly this was the first she’ d heard about it, and she sounded none too happy to be out of the loop. ‘ Gee, Lou, I don’ t believe that I-’

Bigwood cut her off. ‘ June will fill you in.’

And that was that. He stood to leave, and everyone else followed suit, including Lizbeth-who either respected Bigwood as the final word or was too busy plotting my murder to say anything further.

Cautiously, as one might approach a feral cat, I edged my way over to her. ‘ Let me know when you want me to give you the details. I’ d be happy to,’  I said.

Without so much as glancing at me, she replied frostily, ‘ Oh, I’ m sure you would.’


Chapter 7

T he problem with having a list of things to accomplish like Marissa’ s, I soon discovered, is that you become loath to expend energy on anything that isn’ t directly related to the challenge. It’ s about payoff. Like in high school when a teacher, eyes shining, would tell us about an exciting educational opportunity-a play we could attend or a museum exhibit related to our studies. It may have even sounded remotely interesting. But it came down to what one brave soul would eventually voice for the rest of us: Will we get credit for it?

That’ s how I felt when Sebastian Forbes called to ask me to a party he was throwing for himself. It was to celebrate the success of his book-which currently topped the Los Angeles Times best-seller list and was number five on the New York Times list. Publishers Weekly called it ‘ a darkly comic tour de force.’  ‘ I owe almost none of it to you,’  he chirped happily, ‘ but I want you to come to the party and behold the rat bastards who abandoned me in my time of need.’

‘ So they came back?’

‘ Like moths to the flame.’

He hinted there might be fellow writers and a few actors there as well-there was already talk about turning his novel into a movie. Still, I had to force myself to accept the invitation. All I could think was, Will anyone be giving massages? Will I get on TV? I thought back to the list for other tasks I needed to accomplish: Any chance there’ ll be boogie boarding? Is Buddy Fitch invited?

I eventually caved and took down directions to his home. Before we hung up, he said, ‘ I suppose I should tell you, I’ ve been seeing my doctor.’

‘ Oh& ‘  I wasn’ t sure what to say. It seemed such an intimate thing to confide in me considering we’ d met only recently. Besides, he’ d seemed so healthy.

He caught my hesitation. ‘ No, I’ m seeing my doctor. His name’ s Kip, and he’ s smart and gorgeous, and he’ ll be at the party, so be on your best behavior.’

I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘ So I take it that JJ’ s gone for good?’

‘ JJ who?’

SEBASTIAN LIVED in a Mediterranean-style house in the Hollywood Hills-although a case could be made for calling it a mansion. I let out a whistle of appreciation as I walked into the vast foyer with Susan. (She’ d begged to come along after I mentioned the party to her-she’ d borrowed my copy of One-Woman Man and couldn’ t stop talking about it.) Painted in gold hues, the walls were covered with abstract paintings. I’ m sure they were all of naked people.

‘ So these are the spoils of a best-selling author, eh?’  I said to Sebastian as he collected our coats.

‘ This, the spoils? Hardly,’  he scoffed. ‘ My advance was minuscule. The home is thanks to Grandmum, who died several years ago.’

‘ I’ m sorry& .’

‘ Don’ t be. She was an evil, bitter hag who made everyone miserable.’

‘ I loved your book!’  Susan gushed out of nowhere, making me start.

Sebastian beamed. ‘ And June, who is your lovely friend?’

I made introductions as he escorted us into the main living area. Susan launched into a breathless swoon about how the earthquake metaphor he used to parallel his tumultuous relationship with his mother had brought her to tears.

About a dozen people milled around the room, which had high ceilings, minimal furniture, and-instead of walls-massive windows opening to a sparkling, twinkling city below. The night was clear but nippy. We’ d seen a sky full of stars on the drive over, which-because of the perpetual haze and smog and city lights-is a rare treat around here. From my apartment, I can usually spot only a handful on any given night. It’ s ironic: Los Angeles is the city of stars, but only the kind that are on the ground, attending premieres and getting the best tables at fancy restaurants.

‘ It’ s still early, so you’ re among the first here,’  Sebastian said.

‘ Early? It’ s ten-thirty!’  I cried.

‘ I know-a pretty good crowd so far, don’ t you think?’

I hoped Susan and I didn’ t stand out. We both wore black on black, although she had a classic silk sort of thing going. My outfit looked as if it were off the rack from Express-which it was, but it had seemed a whole lot more sophisticated in the dressing room than it did here.

I was helping myself to a crab puff off a passing tray when a swarthy, well-built man walked by in what appeared to be standard men’ s trousers, only cut so low in the back that his crack showed. He wasn’ t ‘ sagging’  the way the kids do-that is, wearing them low with his underwear exposed. They were just plain low, no underwear in sight.

‘ Man-ass,’  Sebastian supplied when he caught me staring.

‘ Excuse me?’

‘ It’ s the latest style from New York. They refer to it as man-ass. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to limit my butt-crack viewing to repairmen and dockworkers.’

I felt immediately better. There wasn’ t a chance in the world I could compete with the sort of style that would be on display this evening. The pressure was off. My outfit may have lacked panache, but at least no one could accuse me of trying too hard.

‘ Get whatever you want to drink,’  Sebastian said, gesturing to the bartender set up in the corner before leaving us to go mingle. ‘ And then why don’ t you say hello to my publicist, Hillary. You remember her from the reading, don’ t you?’

But by the time we got our drinks, Hillary was deep in conversation with Man-ass, so I used the opportunity to eat a deviled egg and tell Susan about my first outing as a Big Sister with Deedee earlier that afternoon. I’ d picked her up, we’ d gone to a movie, and then I’ d taken her home.

‘ That was it,’  I complained. ‘ Not exactly life-changing stuff.’

‘ What were you expecting? It was a movie.’

‘ And popcorn,’  I added defensively.

‘ Did she have fun?’

‘ It’ s hard to tell. She’ s sweet, but not exactly a chatterbox. I find myself doing that thing I know kids hate, where I drill her with stupid questions.’  I grimaced as I thought back to snatches of our conversation:

How do you like school?

It’ s okay.

What’ s your favorite subject?

(Shrug) Language arts, I guess.

That’ s right. Rose mentioned you want to be a writer.

(No response, as I hadn’ t officially posed a question.)

What sorts of things do you write?

Fiction, I guess.

Oh? What type of fiction?

Short form.

‘ She’ ll open up,’  Susan assured me. ‘ As to whether or not you can change her life, you’ ll have to be patient. Sounds to me like she hasn’ t had much of a chance to let loose and be young. She may not even know how. Maybe taking her out and introducing her to a little fun-even if it’ s a movie on a Saturday afternoon-maybe that’ s enough.’

‘ I guess I’ m hoping for trumpets and revelations.’

‘ Aren’ t we all.’

It took only an hour or so for the room to fill. Sebastian delivered on those celebrities he promised-that is, provided one used the term celebrity loosely. There was a guy I recognized from one of those bachelor shows and a woman who had earned her fifteen minutes of TV fame for drinking a blender full of slugworms and managing to keep it down.

‘ June! Susan! Come here!’  Sebastian waved us over to where he stood with a group of people-one of whom immediately caught my attention, being as she was a magnificent giantess of a woman with pale blond hair, cheekbones you could ski off, and the shoulder span of an Olympic swimmer.

He introduced her as Mjorka, the Latvian model/actress who’ d originally been cast to play JJ before I stepped in as understudy to capture the role so brilliantly. Also there was his publicist, Hillary, Man-ass, and Sebastian’ s boyfriend, Kip, who was adorable in that you-want-to-pinch-his-cheeks kind of way with his goatee and wire-frame glasses.

‘ I was telling everyone about your list,’  Sebastian said. ‘ I tried to remember some of the things on it, but all I could come up with was the blind date& and running a 5K.’

‘ If I found out I was going to die,’  Man-ass interjected, ‘ I’ d want to skydive.’

Susan gave a little hand clap. ‘ Me too!’

I rolled my eyes-enough with the skydiving!

The topic veered to a story Man-ass once read in Chicken Soup for the Soul about a man who at age fifteen made a list of 120 things he wanted to accomplish. (I knew the one he was talking about: I’ d read it myself at my parents’  last Christmas when I ran out of things to do. His list included learning languages, climbing mountains, studying primitive cultures, owning exotic pets, photographing the great sites in nature-things you couldn’ t imagine any one person achieving in a lifetime. I remember remarking to my mom that it said he’ d done most of the things and still managed to get married and have five children. She’ d huffed, ‘ Sure he did, but I’ ll bet he never changed a diaper’ -which surprised me, because my mom’ s rarely cynical.)