That Man 7 - Nelle L'Amour Page 0,2

Boulevard. I was seated in a booth opposite my close friend, Chaz, and his fiancé, Jeffrey, one of LA’s premier event planners. Chaz, a successful fashion designer, was the twin brother of my bestie, Libby Clearfield, who also worked at Conquest Broadcasting. Now, the Director of Consumer Insights, she was away on one of her many business trips, overseeing focus groups in the Midwest. Sometimes, I thought she spent more time out of the office than in it, and traveling so much did not make it easy for her to settle down. Nor did her on-again, off-again long-distance relationship with her boyfriend, Everett, a visiting scholar in France. They had been going together since our USC college days, but neither seemed ready nor willing to make a commitment . . . much to both Chaz’s and my chagrin.

Platters of our favorite sushi rolls were already on the table. Crispy soft-shell crab rolls, rainbow rolls, spider rolls, and more. I never knew how we could consume them all, but somehow we always did. Chaz and Jeffrey were washing their rice-covered bites down with a large hot sake while I stuck to some non-alcoholic green tea. I was prone to getting drunk easily and couldn’t afford to be inebriated all afternoon when I had a jam-packed schedule ahead of me. After lunch, I had to attend a taping of The Sexy Shmexy Book Club . . . watch and give notes on the Well Hung dailies . . . do an interview with the Hollywood Reporter . . . and review some submissions for new program ideas. Plus, I had an all-important meeting with Saul Bernstein, the formidable head of Conquest Broadcasting, that I had to be totally prepared for. Though he was my father-in-law and I adored him, business was business.

Devouring the sushi, we caught up, with Chaz telling me about his latest collection and his upcoming feature in Vogue. The fashion magazine was spotlighting hot, young designers to watch, and he was among them.

“Oh my God! That’s awesome!” I blurted, swallowing down a piece of the California roll. I often wore Chaz’s stunning creations to black tie and red carpet events, wowing both my colleagues and the media. He also designed my magnificent wedding gown, which I now kept in an airtight box so as to preserve it. Maybe, just maybe, the little girl I longed to have would one day wear it.

Jeffrey shared my enthusiasm and then quipped, “He’s going to be so famous he won’t need me anymore!”

“Stop it, darling!” Chaz chastised. “And have some more sushi!” With his chopsticks, he playfully fed his longtime partner another piece while I took a sip of my hot tea.

I set down the small stoneware cup next to my cell phone. “I have some exciting news too.”

“Jenny-Poo, don’t hold back unless you want us to read your mind. And you know how much we love to play games!”

They did indeed. In fact, if it hadn’t been for a game of Truth or Dare that Chaz had initiated during my engagement party to my former fiancé Bradley, I may have never met or married Blake. It was a dare—a blindfolded kiss with a total stranger—that brought us together. A kiss to this day I still never forget. Or regret.

“Okay, spill the beans.” Chaz wagged a finger at me and grinned sheepishly. “I know . . . you and Blake are having a baby.”

I flushed. It was nothing like that. For one thing, we’d been married for less than a year. Plus, having a baby with Blake was complicated on account of the partial hysterectomy I’d had before we tied the knot. But it wasn’t impossible. I’d hadn’t shared the promising news with anyone . . . especially my BFF, Libby. As much as I loved her like a sister, I had to always remember: Tell Libby. Tell the world. She was an impossible gossip.

I cleared my throat. “No, guys, it’s nothing like that. A big sponsor wants to underwrite Grandma’s talk show.”

“Who?” asked my companions in unison.

“Golden International.”

Both Chaz and Jeffrey furrowed their brows with a who-the-fuck-is-that expression.

“They make Dermadoo.”

“Dermadoo!!!????” they shrieked ensemble. “No. Freaking. Way.”

Their reaction shocked me, and my brows shot up. “You’re familiar with that product?”

“A little dab will do ya,” they singsonged.

“You use it on your faces?” Both Chaz and his fiancé had flawless, youthful skin, which made them look very boyish despite being in their late twenties.

“We use it everywhere,” replied Jeffrey with a wink.

“Huh?” Was I