My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

22. Accountant's Alter Ego: Sex Obsessed

"My mother knows how to get her way," Oliver said with a faraway look in his eyes. As if recalling years of enduring Cyra's demands. Andie realized her decision not to leave with him meant Oliver would have to follow through on marrying Talia. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. "I'm sorry for you. For what your mother has done. But Sterling and my mom are innocents. I have to do what I can to keep them safe."

"I understand," he said, kissing each of Andie's hands before releasing them.

"We should get back to the banquet now. Talia might show up and zap me into oblivion. I can't believe she let you leave her sight."

"I think she's preoccupied with the glitz and glamor. But you're right. She will soon come after me." Oliver sighed.

Something had nagged at the edge of her awareness ever since Cyra arrived. Suddenly she remembered what it was. "What did your mother mean earlier about a surprise?"

"I have no idea," he said. "But since it's Cyra, I can assure you it won't be pleasant. We must remain alert."

Andie clenched her fists. "You go first," Andie said. "I'll be right behind you."

"All right." Oliver left the bathroom, broken glass crunching beneath his shoes.

Andie washed her hands, squinting at her shattered, Picasso-esque reflection in the broken mirror. Mascara had run down her cheeks. Sterling's hair and makeup retinue would not be amused. Andie did the best she could to reassemble her appearance, but the trouble was, the inside couldn't be so easily repaired.

***

In the relatively dim light, Andie couldn't see her table but assumed it must be toward the front, closest to the stage. Hollywood's gorgeous and powerful looked up from their roasted red and yellow beet and herbed goat cheese Napoleons as Andie passed through the marquee. The back of her neck prickled at their collective gaze.

She hoped Oliver's table would be far-removed from hers. Andie could possibly make it through the evening as long as she didn't have to watch Talia gloating all night.

Andie caught sight of Sterling at the table closest to the stage sitting with Rachel, Pilot, Chris Pine, the two men from STARZ, and her heart sunk, Cyra, Talia, and Oliver. There were two empty chairs. Presumably one for her and one for the banished Gigi. Andie would've turned on her heels and marched over the side of the Santa Monica Mountains, rather than sit with her alien coworkers, but she could not in good conscience abandon her alien-ignorant family to an evening with such powerful forces. Perhaps the seating arrangements had been Cyra's 'surprise.'

"So you glad you could join us," Cyra purred. She impaled a beet with her fork and chewed, slowly and delicately. Pilot pierced Cyra with a steely glare, bared his teeth, and growled.

Andie glared at each Amu in turn—a silent threat not to mess with her or anyone she cared about. Cyra snorted, patting her beet-stained lips with her starched linen napkin. Talia glowered back, smearing her beets on the white plate, leaving a finger-paint-like trail of red.

"Hey, Mom, Sterling," said Andie.

"Hello, darling," said Rachel. "Sit down. Try the organic beets. They're cosmic. Not yet, Pilot," Rachel warned, all enigmatically "Don't be ridiculous. It's Sterling's big night."

"I'm sorry, Andie," said Sterling. "I ..."

The pain was clear in Sterling's eyes, the tautness of her mouth, the slump of her shoulders instead of her normally plumb line posture. "For what?" said Andie. "You didn't do the seating assignments, right?"