was taken when my phone sounded. I nearly dropped it on the floor, so quick and anxious in action when pulling it from the pocket of my sweatpants.
I shook my head and scoffed, “I wish my little cousin never taught this woman how to use a Blackberry.”
“Is that Wanda, looking for the prince?”
“That it is. She telling me the greens won’t get done by her alone tonight.”
“She’s hosting?” I nodded. “So you won’t be with the Spencers tomorrow?”
“Nah. Wanda wouldn’t have it. I called my grandmother and told her my mother wants everyone there tomorrow after Brick’s passing. She felt like we were all so in grief during his funeral, she missed everyone.”
“Did Lady Spencer understand?” NormaJean giggled, shaking her head.
“So she said, but when I told her my flight’s leaving the next morning, she was salty as fuck.”
She lifted her flute. “That’s the Lady Spencer I know.”
My eyes swept the table. “Come on.” I stood. “Let me help you clean this up.”
NormaJean downed the rest of her champagne, swallowing it all. “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be a long night for me anyway. I need to do a few loads of laundry and pack again.”
“Where are you going now?”
“To visit home, but just for a day.”
“You’ll be home with family for Thanksgiving?”
NormaJean McNeill was from a small town in Kansas. She hadn’t lived at home since eighteen years old. The day after she graduated high school, she packed a small suitcase, took the wad of cash she’d saved up in a jar from her job at an ice cream parlor, and trekked it to Los Angeles. Her parents weren’t happy about it at all, but also powerless to her decision. NormaJean worked, waiting tables in L.A. for a couple of years, not knowing what she wanted to do other than escape Kansas. It was at a restaurant that she encountered a film director who made her birth name a household one. NormaJean lived on the West Coast for years, eventually moving to Las Vegas where she purchased a home. She made millions and was oddly smart with her money and her celebrity.
It so happened she was on a long stay in New York City about five years ago, shooting with a new production company when she encountered me at sixteen years old. We were at a launch party for a new liquor line a friend of my father’s was invited to. I went along with him, of course not looking less than twenty years old. NormaJean sensed my youth, but still chatted with me in a corner over whiskey and jokes until the end of the event. She may have been content with just leaving our evident chemistry there in that lounge, but there was no fucking way I was leaving without shooting my shot at the NormaJean. I knew her work and wanted a taste. I’d gotten more than what I bargained for. The woman blew my mind…for years. We traveled around the country and outside of it, fucking and exploring—with her fluid girlfriends sometimes—until we were found out.
NormaJean shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be good holiday company. But my mother knows I’ll be there on Friday. I’ll spend a few hours with her before meeting my cousins at a restaurant. After that, a red-eye back home to Vegas for me.” She waved her hand. “Come let me walk you out before I change my mind and make you stay with me. That’ll send Wanda to the crazy house.”
I downed my wine, well past inebriated, and grabbed my phone before following her out. Something dawned on me. “You cooked for just me. Aren’t you sweet.”
“Well, I had to check in here after the renovations. And if I wanted anything resembling a Thanksgiving meal with family, I had to snatch your handsome ass up and”—she shrugged—“cook for you.”
As we traveled the lush house, I sent a message to Louis, telling him I was coming out. Then I wondered out loud, “How long are you going to keep this place?”
Her ass jiggled when she sauntered, even under the silk duster.
“Huhn?” She turned to me in the foyer.
“You bought this house five years ago and haven’t stayed here much since I left for school. How long are you going to keep it?”
NormaJean’s mouth turned up and long lashes met as she thought about it. “I thought of selling it, but figured I’ll wait, at least, to see where you’ll get drafted to make that call. What if