Chapter Two

Vanessa

Without a word, Paloma crossed into the room in three long strides, enveloping me in a fierce hug. "Hey, what happened?" she murmured, her voice laced with concern as she pulled back, searching my eyes for clues.

I let out a shaky sigh, the fight with Richard draining the last of my energy. "We… we argued again," I mumbled, tears welling up in my eyes.

Paloma bristled. "That idiot," she spat, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by a steely glint of anger. "What did he do now?"

I sniffled, tears tracing a path down my cheeks. "He… he wants me to give up. Give up on acting, on my dreams. He wants me to marry him and be a housewife."

"That bastard! Does he not see how much this means to you? All the effort you put into this?" Paloma scoffed, fury simmering in her fiery brown eyes.

I shook my head, a mixture of sadness and defiance flickering bubbling inside me. "He says it's unrealistic, a pipe dream. That Los Angeles is a graveyard for wannabe stars."

Paloma snorted. "Well, Richard might be a lot of things, but a dream interpreter is not one of them. Listen," she grabbed my hands, her gaze firm and unwavering. "Don't let him dim your light, honey. You're gonna be a star, I can feel it in my bones. And who needs a dream-crushing boyfriend anyway?"

A flicker of a smile played on my lips. Paloma always knew how to lift my spirits. 

"So, what do you say we drown our sorrows in margaritas and forget about Richard ?" Paloma suggested, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes.

"Richard who? Thinking about Margaritas just made me forget about that jerk," I said, as a spark of determination replaced the sadness within me.

—

—

The clinking of glasses and upbeat music filled the air as I and Paloma entered the bar at the Carson Hotel. The polished chrome and sleek design screamed luxury, a stark contrast to the dive bars we usually frequented.

Paloma, decked out in a shimmering emerald dress, practically strutted in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright Vanessa," she declared, "tonight, we're scoring free drinks like A-list celebrities. And also don't forget to keep the dress tags intact, unless you want to pay $500 for that dress."

And score, we did. Dressed in a stylish black dress that accentuated my curves, with my red hair I could easily be mistaken for a younger Nicole Kidman. I couldn't deny the admiring glances and lingering stares our way. A couple of men even approached us, vying for our attention.

I looked over my shoulder, sneaking a gaze around the bar and returned my eyes back to Paloma. 

She has a confident smile across her face. Like me, she's examining the bar elegantly. 

Her eyes fell on me. I can see that spark, the one she used to cheer me up before arrival. Suddenly, Paloma's gaze softened, her eyes landing on my arms. "Woah, what happened there?" She asked, concern etched on her face. 

I traced her gaze and my lips formed a line. She was staring at the faint bruise peeking out from my sleeve.

I instinctively pulled my arm back, as a flicker of pain shut through it. "Oh, this? Nothing serious. Just bumped into something, I am clumsy."

Paloma didn't seem convinced, how could she, this was the most obvious lie ever. She grabbed my left arm gently, examining the bruise. Her smile vanished, replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. "That doesn't look like a bump, sweetie. And don't tell me Richard did this again."

I sighed, the weight of my decision settling in, I pondered telling her the truth, but it came out before I could settle on anything. "No, not again. But yeah, it was him."

"Honey," Paloma said, her voice firm, "you gotta get out of that relationship. When a man puts his hands on you once, there's a good chance he'll do it again. It starts small, a bruise here, a shove there, and before you know it, you're living in fear, isolated from the rest of the world."

I looked down at my drink, swirling the amber liquid in the glass. "I know, Paloma. You're right. I've been ignoring the signs for too long."

"That's my girl!" Paloma exclaimed, throwing her arm around my shoulder. "Tonight's about celebrating your newfound freedom. Eight months in LA, and you've been shackled to that Asshole? Criminal, I tell you!" Her infectious laugh filled the air, it was all I needed to stay firm on my decision to dump Richard . 

The tequila shots buzzed pleasantly in my head, loosening my inhibitions. Leaning closer to Paloma, I asked, "So, how are things with your music producer boyfriend, Leland?"

Paloma sighed, swirling the remnants of her mojito in the glass. "We are not together at the moment. Apparently, producing that song that hit the Spotify top ten has inflated his ego the size of a blimp."

I winced. "But what about your songs? Have you recorded any I can listen to?"

Paloma shrugged a flicker of bitterness in her eyes. "Looking for someone, but the search is dry." She sighed, lowering her gaze, "I guess that leaves the two of us with unmet ambitions. You know what? Let's ditch the Debbie Downer vibes."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Game time! If you can snag a drink from that sad-looking dude over there," she gestured towards a lone figure at the bar, a mop of blond hair catching the dim light, wearing an expensive looking black suit "I'll belt out a song for everyone here tonight." 

My interest peaked as I raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "Challenge accepted! That guy's practically radiating 'buy me a drink' energy."

******************

Liam 

Leaning back in my father's chair, the worn leather creaked under my weight.

The view outside was breathtaking, a panoramic vista of the Los Angeles skyline. A day back from London, and already I was drowning in paperwork. Stacks of files claiming space on my desk had become my unwelcome companions. 

A knock on the door startled me. The person stepped in before I could give a response whether to come in or not. Cletus Watson, my father's financial advisor and ever-present shadow, filled the doorway.

Cletus was the one who called me while I was in London running the London Carson Hotel, that my father had passed and that vultures were circling his empire and I should rush back to Los Angeles to protect it.

His face, a weathered map etched with years of loyalty and silent complicity, held a hint of concern. "Ready for the board meeting tomorrow morning?" Cletus' voice, a low rasp with a hint of Texas twang, echoed in the cavernous room.

I shifted through a pile of contracts, the paper whispering secrets of my father's empire. "Absolutely," I replied, forcing a confident note into my voice. "Once I'm done dissecting these documents."

Cletus chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "You're over-exerting yourself, young man. Your father, God rest his soul, kept a tight ship. No debts. No loose ends."

The implications of his words gnawed at me. My father's ruthlessness, a constant undercurrent during my childhood and the one year I worked with him, as well as the many self-serving decisions he made that has impacted my life negatively, now felt like a suffocating cloak threatening to engulf me.

"This is my process," I countered, my voice firmer than I expected. "I like to be thorough."

Cletus shrugged, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes. "Of course, of course. Go on then. Your father.... was a great man. A man who did what had to be done. In you I see a son who will do the same."

My stomach clenched. A part of me bristled at the thought. My father, a ruthless titan of industry, was not a role model I aspired to.

Cletus patted my shoulder. "I'll leave you to it then," he said, his voice softening slightly. "Need anything for the meeting, just let me know." With that, he shuffled out, leaving me alone with my burden. 

A shrill ring pierced the silence, the caller ID flashing "Karen" in bold red letters. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. The last thing I needed right now was her drama. Hitting decline, I muttered, "Not today," under my breath. "If she wants to talk, she can find her way back to Los Angeles."

Another ring, this time accompanied by the warm image of Mom's face, broke the silence. Guilt pricked at my conscience. Answering the call, I forced a cheerful tone, "Mom, how are you holding up? Have you eaten or slept today?"

Her voice, laced with a tremor I hated to hear, filled the room. "I tried, honey, but it's hard, it's very hard. Can't stop thinking about your father. It just feels so unfair, Liam . I was supposed to go first, now he is there and I am here all alone."

My heart ached for her, I oftentimes wondered if she knew father's awful ways. "I know, Mom, but you are not alone," I said softly. "I promise I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. Please, try to eat and get some rest."

"Alright, dear," she sighed. "Just… come home soon. I miss you."

The call ended, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Inhaling a shaky breath, I forced myself to focus on the files in front of me.

********

By evening the stack of files on my desk had shrunk to just five files, something I can breeze through in the morning.

A welcome sight as I look forward to tomorrow's board meeting. With a sigh of satisfaction, I decided to call it a night. Sleeping in my executive suite seemed far more appealing than battling the Los Angeles traffic home.

Down in the hotel bar, I settled at a corner table, the clinking of glasses and upbeat music creating a low hum in the background. My initial plan was to nurse a single drink and unwind, but I found myself barely registering the chatter around me or the friendly banter of the bartender. Work had a way of clinging to you, even in a place meant for relaxation.

I was lost in thought about tomorrow morning's stakeholders meeting, swirling ice in my glass, when a flash of red caught my eyes. I looked up to see a young lady approaching, and the world around me seemed to fade away.

She was a vision in a short-sleeved black dress that clung to her hourglass figure, a daring thigh-high slit teasing a glimpse of toned leg. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her back in waves, framing mesmerizing grayish-blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief.

As she drew closer, the details became even more captivating. The delicate curve of her cheekbones, and the soft pink of her full lips added to her irresistible charm. The dim bar lights seemed to highlight her beauty, and she had a smile gracing her lips that was nothing short of infectious.

"Excuse me," her voice was as captivating as her smile, "would you mind if I kept you company?"