Angel Eyes

Chapter One

Angelina's Point of View (POV)

You've got this Angelina, no biggie, this is going to be amazing, I promised myself as I squinted in the mirror trying to apply my eyeliner with a slightly shaky hand. Hmmm, nope it's crooked, I cringed. I repaired the mishap as best I could in the dim lighting of the two bedroom, West Hollywood apartment I shared with my best friend. It would have to do since I was running late for a very important appointment and I should have been out the door ten minutes ago.

I was meeting with a new client to lay out my process plan for his daughter's 9th birthday gala. Normally a child's birthday party wouldn't be cause for such nervous excitement on my part, but this was no run-of-the-mill parent. Martin Devers had inherited his father's shipping business and his estimated wealth of close to a billion dollars. He had a home in Bel Air, which was closer to my place, but his personal assistant called to inform me, almost at the last minute, that the venue had been changed to his Malibu estate. She texted me the address and said to give the guard at the gate my name and he would give me directions to follow once I entered the private road.

The Devers name alone could open lots of doors for me and my future success. Even though it could be looked at as a mere 9 year old's birthday party it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I had only been living in Los Angeles for the better part of two months having arrived here from my home in South Africa. I had been a successful event coordinator with the most exclusive company in Cape Town before venturing out to start my own agency. It too had garnered an excellent reputation in the area, but my aspirations had always been to go international, preferably in the states.

The opportunity I was looking for came when I met Clinton, the lead architect for a design company that I had taken on as a client. I was the project director for their presentation at the annual Design Expo. I worked closely with Clinton and we formed a trusted professional bond that quickly segued into a personal friendship. Months later Clinton had moved to Los Angeles to join his boyfriend, Toby, who was a partner in his own business there. One evening while skyping with Clinton Toby suggested that I come work for his production company. I had no experience in the entertainment field, but Toby assured me that event planning was an arm of the production process. Having an adventurous spirit and always being a spontaneous person I took my chances and said yes.

In order to pay the bills I still worked for Toby primarily, but was slowly developing my personal business as well. If the Devers account worked out the way I hoped it would afford me the courage to break off entirely on my own.

I gave myself a once over in the wall mirror by the entry. There was the dark hazel eyes set in the all too familiar oval shaped freckled face staring back at me. You've got this! I shouted silently at my reflection wrapping my favorite red scarf around my neck as I headed out the door.

I hated having to navigate my way through the headache of rush hour on Sunset Blvd, but it was a straight shot to Pacific Coast Hwy and I wasn't experienced enough with LA traffic yet to venture off. I loved PCH and its splendid view of the ocean, it was highly congested, but the observation made it well worth the while.

I drove up to the gatehouse with little time to spare. Since the road divided into north and south directions following the coastline it would have been hard to get lost even without the instructions provided by security. I pulled up to the massive residence and just stared at it for a few moments. I had seen plenty of lush homes in and around Beverly Hills, but the sight in front of me was truly opulent and especially off set by the incredible majesty of the pacific in the background.

For someone who had already been announced by security as on the way it took an unusually long while for the bell to be answered. When the door was finally opened a young girl stood in front of me offering no greeting, but plenty of attitude. I was used to difficult clients and wasn't about to be bested by a spoiled little rich girl.

"Hello, you must be Mary?" I smiled sweetly. "I'm....." "I know who you are," she cut me off. She turned her head speaking over my shoulder, "the party person is here. She turned and abruptly walked away as a handsome blonde haired man took her place. Unlike his daughter he seemed pleasant enough extending his hand introducing himself as Martin. "And you of course are Angelina," he offered.

"Yes," I responded shaking his hand and keeping my smile in place. "Please come in," he said waving me inside. Once past him a girl came walking towards me wearing black skinny jeans and a knit top. Since she was carrying an iPad and my faxed notes I assumed she was Sandra, Martin's executive assistant and the person I had been communicating with for the most part.

As I suspected Martin introduced Sandra and continued on to reiterate what I already knew. "I want no expense spared for my little princess," he explained. "My Mary has very specific requirements and I want them all met in order to make her dream birthday come true." For what seemed like hours he went on and on about how she wanted none other than One Direction or at the very least Justin Bieber to perform, this part was nonnegotiable. Another almost impossible demand was getting a Kardashian or Jenner to MC the affair. She wanted Kendall, but would settle for Kim. Every portion of the event, from invitations to decorations was discussed and after about three hours I was exhausted.

Due to Toby I had a few contacts in the film industry, but zero in the music business. I had no idea how to go about rallying such high level talent and less in the area of dealing with ego driven reality stars. To make the task even more unattainable I knew, as did the rest of the world, that One Direction was currently on a self-imposed hiatus. My hopes of impressing this client were quickly fading into oblivion.

I managed to say good-bye and maintain the appearance of competence. On the inside I was an insecure mess. I made it to my car wanting nothing more than to make it out of the driveway so I could cry real tears and they came as a watershed without hesitation. As I drove aimlessly, still remaining inside the private sector, I found a small alcove leading down to the beach below. I parked and walked the short distance to the sand after throwing my only pair of Jimmy Choo's in the trunk.

As soon as I felt the sand beneath my feet I was comforted by the recollections of home, strolling down the beach at Blouberg in Cape Town. I closed my eyes breathing in the memories of home, but reality returned as I opened them to the California shores in front of me. A walk along the Pacific looking out at the silver sheen on the water was exactly what I needed. The waves were high and choppy bringing the wind with them. I had to hold onto my red scarf as the air whipped around me. Wrestling with the scarf and my hair at the same time, however, proved too much as the material slipped from my grasp.