A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,60
Raoul overheard? And what might he do with that information?
“So, shall we wash it and see what happens?”
“Lizzie, darling!” Maisie beckoned to her from the floodlit dining room.
She came down the stairs rigid with self-awareness since she’d noticed a camera trained right on her. Raoul had used some kind of greasy gel on her hair that made it hang in stringy tendrils about her shoulders. She looked like a wet wood nymph. He’d talked her into wearing cutoff jeans by some SoHo designer and a halter top with a built in bra, so she was a wet wood nymph who’d dipped into Daisy Duke’s wardrobe. She’d been rather impressed with her swamp-sexpot look in the age-spotted bedroom mirror, with Raoul standing behind her claiming jealousy. In full view of the crew, with 3200 Kelvins of artificial daylight blasting her from every direction, she felt like a balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.
“Wow.” A grin spread across Con’s face. “I like this look.”
She cringed at the blush creeping up her chest, which was pushed into view by a large quantity of industrial-strength underwire.
Maisie stood off to one side, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Cut!” She strode forward. “Goodness, Lizzie, Raoul does get creative doesn’t he? Shame it took so long, but I imagine it was a lot of work.” She picked up a clump of “wet look” hair. “I was just telling Con about our plans for the day. We’re going to drive over to Mudbug Flats—” She lingered over the name a bit—“after breakfast. You two are taking a sweet little white Jeep we’ve rented. Of course, they’ll be a cameraman in the car with you, but the rest of the crew will be in a van.”
Maisie paused to look at her clipboard. Lizzie paused to regret ever coming up with this stupid idea.
She glanced at Con. He stared rather too intently at his cup of coffee.
“So, darling, the only snag is that when we tried to scope out the exact location, we couldn’t find it, so Con will have to show us the way.”
Con seized his cup and took a sip, without looking up. His shirt was on and buttoned.
“Your family will be expecting us, I imagine?” Maisie looked at Con.
Family? Lizzie felt a drip of sweat trickle down her back. It hadn’t really sunk in that Con could have a family of real people. He certainly never mentioned them. What would they be like? What on earth would they think of her? She swallowed hard.
“No one’s expecting me.” Con’s voice was throaty. “I’ve been gone a long time. Haven’t stayed in touch.”
Maisie stared at him, her smooth brow furrowed. “Reallllly?” she said slowly. “So this is sort of a prodigal-son-returns type of piece, then?”
Con licked his lips. No sign whatsoever of his usual polished charm. “I don’t know what kind of piece it’s going to be.”
“But you will be able to find the place?”
“If it’s still there, I can find it.” He pressed his lips together. Lizzie tried to catch his eye but couldn’t.
“Alright then, we’ll go there and see what we see. Make a day of it.” Maisie smiled brightly. “Breakfast!” She indicated a spread on the table. “Let me get out of the shot for a moment.”
Con seemed to recover himself as Lizzie sat down with a plate of spiced sausages and scrambled eggs.
“Looking forward to seeing the old place?” she said brightly. Took a bite of her eggs. Squinted under the harsh spotlight.
“I haven’t been back in so long, I don’t know what to expect.” His worried brown-eyed gaze threatened her defenses.
Don’t fall for it. Picture him chuckling about you with Raoul over the free weights.
“I understand. Change can be so traumatic. I hardly recognize the block on East 66th Street where I grew up..” She smiled, bracing herself against any unwelcome emotion.
She noticed Maisie snap to attention and give some kind of signal to Dino. Maisie strode forward and sat down at the table next to Con, opposite Lizzie. Lizzie braced herself.
“Morning, Lizzie, Morning, Conroy,” she said, brightly. A kind of ‘on-air’ glow made her smile shine whiter. She spoke to Con. “We’re all very excited to be here with you for this little homecoming. As you know, Lizzie grew up in a luxury brownstone in one of New York City’s finest neighborhoods. As cousins we spent many beautiful Christmases gathered around the fresh-cut tree in the magnificent living room of that house, surrounded by Van Dykes and Gainsboroughs.”