Susan Mallery Page 0,79
to go stay with Wesley, and Alec would take Margot back to the house.
Margot grabbed his hand and pulled him to a relatively quiet corner of the huge room. “Did you know your mother had an affair with Steve Jobs?”
Alec didn’t look the least bit shocked by the question. “No, but little from her past surprises me.”
“Wasn’t he married?”
“I’m sure the affair was before that. Bianca isn’t into married men.”
“You’re so calm. It’s Steve Jobs!”
“Are you an Apple fan?”
“I love my iPhone, like millions of others. It’s just shocking.”
He chuckled. “She’s been involved with actors and heads of state and race car drivers and you get in a tizzy about Steve Jobs.”
“I have nerd-like qualities. I can’t help it.”
He held out his arm. “Come on. Let’s go lurk in the background and watch my mother. Are you nervous?”
“Terrified and oddly resigned.”
“An unexpected combination.”
They moved through the ballroom. There were several political candidates working the crowd. Margot and Alec avoided them, then finally spotted Bianca near the bar. She was with a middle-aged woman, talking animatedly and laughing. After a few minutes, Bianca spotted them and excused herself.
“I’m doing fine,” she said as she approached. “Stop monitoring me. It’s unnerving.”
“I get paid to watch you,” Margot said, her voice teasing. “I have to do my job.”
“I enjoy standing in the light that is your beauty,” Alec told her.
His mother smiled. “Darling, while I would love to believe that, I’m wondering how much champagne you’ve had.”
“My first glass,” he assured her.
“Then watch and learn.”
Bianca strolled toward a young man standing by himself.
“This will be noteworthy,” Alec murmured. “He’ll be overwhelmed by her in less than thirty seconds. He might faint.”
Margot was about to answer when she spotted a man also watching Bianca—which should be nothing to worry about except he had two cameras hanging around his neck.
“There’s a reporter,” she said, starting toward him.
“It’s a political event,” Alec said, walking with her. “There were bound to be reporters. However, I suspect this one is a photographer hired by the campaign. Please, allow me. I have experience with this sort of thing.”
Alec reached the photographer first. “Good evening. Would you mind not photographing my mother? She’s here as a supporter, not as a public figure.”
The photographer, a tall guy in his midforties, looked more annoyed than accommodating. “She’s the money shot.”
“I’m sure the senator’s staff would be delighted to know that’s your opinion,” Alec said easily. “Shall we go tell them? Or are you not being paid to take pictures of the event for the website and possibly mailers?”
“You’re threatening me?” the guy asked, sounding incredulous.
“I am,” Alec told him. “Now, how do you want to handle this?”
Margot watched him weigh his options. She would guess if the photographer was hired for an event this large that he would be used frequently by the campaigns. She doubted he would want to lose that income for a single sale of a shot of Bianca.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Whatever. She’s old. No one cares about her anymore.”
Alec smiled. “Enjoy the party.”
“You handled that very well,” Margot said when they’d walked away. “You do have experience.”
They searched for Bianca and found her with yet another man. This one was closer to her age and more into her than made Margot comfortable.
“He’s standing close and is too animated,” she said. “I think she found a fan.”
“Not good. Bianca loves being adored.”
Although Bianca was at least twenty feet away, with several people between them, Margot heard her laugh over the other conversations. It had a more frenetic quality than she liked, with a slight edge.
“That doesn’t sound good,” she murmured. “There’s too much energy between them.” She hesitated, not sure if she should intervene or let Bianca handle herself. The only way to learn was to do, at least in Bianca’s case.
She watched her client lean into the man. Alec didn’t offer an opinion, no doubt because he knew this was a training session and she was the expert—not that she felt especially certain at that moment.
When the guy leaned in to whisper in Bianca’s ear, Margot started toward her.
“Hi,” she said, as she approached. “I’m Margot and this is Alec.”
“Brandon,” the man said, offering them both an easy smile. “Do you know Bianca?”
“Oh, Alec is my son and Margot is...” Bianca’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Margot is his lover.”
Margot did her best to look casual and hoped she didn’t blush. Bianca was trying to get to her—not a surprise considering her client frequently chafed at being told what