Bumped - Completed Novel

Bumped - Chapter Three

Diego and me had this thing. On a good day, he drove me crazy. Crazy like crazy for him, crazy in love. On a bad day, he drove me crazy. Crazy like master samurai Lorena Bobbit. Crazy like his ass makes me so mad because the spontaneity that I loved about him also made it difficult to plan things with him and it drove me nuts. Some days I didn’t want to speak to him but I still needed to see/touch/breathe him.  And on a day like today, I just needed him.

We had met at an industry event.  It was a premiere party for an independent movie a friend of a friend of a colleague had worked on. That night at the party, as usual, I was the center of my universe.  Drink in hand, The Ruby – ruby red grapefruit juice and vodka, I worked the room. The cocktail mix of attendees was chilled. Hoochie mamas spilling out of too tight dresses hoping for a second glance, broke wannabes passing out business cards, headshots and in some cases thumb drives of their work and then they were the suits. We actually worked full-time in the entertainment industry and we worked the room in our own quiet yet expensively clad desperate way. No matter who you were in L.A., every party, every event was just another opportunity to get your hustle on. Everybody was looking for the next big thing to bandwagon.

There were just some people who had to attend every single party, no matter how big or small. I was one of them. I chatted up the press and reacquainted myself with those I hadn’t seen since the last fling. Fortunately I had a gift for faces. I never forgot one. In an ego-driven town like Hollywood where most deals were initiated outside of the office, it was an asset. I talked up the label’s new acts, got a couple of bites of interest for a cover story on Nikki, the president, and a guest hosting gig for Chantal on MTV (pre-crackhead days). It wasn’t a bad night. I could have left then but like a good little party girl, I could never leave until I was certain there was no one else to see me and nothing else to be seen.

1 a.m. was always the rush to get that last groove on, the last chance to meet and greet.  Last call before the town shuts down at 2 a.m. unless you’re in the know and knew where to find the after hour joints. I was waiting for my car when we met. He dominated the side of the valet stand. He staked out his patch of cement like he owned it.  His tailored suit fit his six-foot plus frame like he was born wearing it.  He looked good and he knew it. He was smooth. From his bald dome to the undercurrent of confidence that was like an electromagnetic field surrounding him, I knew acquisition was his specialty. I could feel his dark eyes studying my long bare legs like they were roadmaps guiding him to redemption.  

He was on his cell. He spoke in a low voice, not like some poseurs who spoke loud enough so everyone could hear their good fortune. He was looking sharp in a dark blue Ermenegildo Zegna suit and crisp white shirt. He ended his call when I stood next to him.

“I saw you hustling the room in there, I asked my boy about you and he said you do publicity at Savage Rhythms.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Give your boy a gold star,” I answered none too kindly.

To escape his intense gaze and to give my hands something to do, I pulled out my phone and dialed my office. Even though it was late, my boss was known to leave me messages at all hours.  Surprisingly there were none.

“I’m Diego,” he continued and offered his hand.

I slipped my phone back in my purse before I shook it. “I guess there’s no need to introduce myself seeing as you already have a dossier on me.”

“You’re witty.  I like that,” he said.

I chuckled, “That’s a first.”

“What?  You disagree?”

“No.  Most people usually just say I’m a smart ass.”

“Well I’m not most people.”

“You would say something like that.”