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Over breakfast we discussed the letters, and I think I managed to convince Abby that they were real. The Almedia family were obviously wealthy and, if they were from Spain as I suspected, they were old money. They were probably very ‘in to‘ personal honor and respect. If Abby were to raise a stink and file charges, much less file a civil suit, things could get very sticky and very, very expensive for the family so this was a nice way for them to make amends quietly.

If she accepted the car, they would be reassured that she wasn’t going to sue or raise a big fuss, and their family name wouldn’t be raked through the mud by the tabloids. She could always take the car and sell it, using the money for other things or even donating it to charity if she wanted.

When I broached the subject of, perhaps, seeing a counselor, Abby actually laughed.

“It was upsetting, yes, and I freaked out a little bit last night, but I will be honest with you, I had worse happen in college. Hell, I had a date practically rape me on the dance floor one night, not just pawing at me like the idiot last night. I survived those and I will survive this just fine, thank you very much.”

Still, Abby decided she would rather not attend the party tonight, deciding to stay in and get room service.

We spent the day just being bums, lounging around, swimming and napping. I had the concierge schedule Abby for a full spa treatment, something she thought was a splendid idea, and she was off to enjoy being pampered by mid-afternoon.

I miscalculated. Abby was off being soaked and massaged and whatever else they did in those spas, and I needed to dress for the party. I was invited to a pre-party at a local hotspot, one of the starlets who was hoping for a role in the movie was coming here to meet me in an hour or so. We would go, play nice with the paparazzi and then hang out for an hour with other, pseudo famous people before leaving together to head to the real party.

I swallowed my pride, but donned my pants, and called for the security team.

Drew managed to keep a straight face and helped to me tie my tie, and my shoes, and get me ready by the time the front desk announced the arrival of my guest.

Drew was still with me when a knock at the door announced her arrival. Not sure which of the names on the list I had been given was coming, I let him answer the door while I shrugged into my jacket.

Through the door with her escort was a very pretty girl who bore a striking resemblance to Sophia when she was younger!

“David? Hi! I am Sofia D’Elia and I guess I am your date tonight!” she said with a big smile, holding out her hand.

“Sorry if I am staring, but I am guessing you are hoping for the role of my sister. You bear a striking resemblance to her!” I said, shaking her hand.

“Well, I am hoping! Mr. Williams, the casting director, said I was a shoe-in, but you know how these things go. Still, I am crossing my fingers. Being seen with you surely won’t hurt my chances.” she said with a shrug.

“I don’t know about all of that. I have no say in who is cast, but based on looks alone, they would have to work hard to find someone who is as close as you are, that’s for certain.” I paused, a little uncomfortable, but figuring I would get it out of the way here in private.

“Did they, un, brief you about my limitations?” I asked, waving a hand at my empty left sleeve and my legs.

She nodded thoughtfully. “They did. They said no dragging you on the dance floor no matter how much you begged.” she said with a wicked grin. “Seriously, they did tell me that you won’t be up for dancing or even walking far. Listen if you want to use your chair, I am totally okay with that. Instead of hanging on your arm, I will just sit in your lap!”

I laughed and shook my head. She seemed to have a great sense of humor, so maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

“Well, thanks! Best offer I have had all night.”

“The night is young, David!” she replied with a wink and a laugh. “Ready to party?”

The club for tonight was one as famous for the scandals that originate there as it was for its sexually sophisticated atmosphere. It was called Voyeur and they were infamous for their provocative ‘live-art’ installations and shows. It was one of the top clubs in Los Angeles if you wanted to see the stars, or be seen.

We travelled by limo, of course, and rolled up to the red carpet in style. Tonight’s crew included Charlotte, who was dressed to kill in an off-the-shoulder sequined number than showed off her toned body to a ‘T’. She would shadow Sofia and make sure nothing happened to her, while Charles would be my shadow.

The studio had set up invitations for us and arranged that we not be kept waiting at the door so, when we rolled up, I got out first and handed Sophia out, then Charles did the same for Charlotte, as if we were two couples.

Charles and Charlotte, hung back, mingling with the crowd while Sofia and I did the red carpet walk for the paparazzi and press who had been alerted ahead of time. There were the usual shouted questions but this time I was surprised when they were directed to me first.

“David, David! Who is your date?”

I lifted Sofia’s hand so she could do an elegant swirl and we laughed for the cameras before answering. As she clung to my arm, I introduced her. “This gorgeous creature is none other than Sofia D’elia, one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the city of angels, and a wonderful actress. Don’t judge her based on her date, she also does charity work.” I joked, pretending to look bummed and getting a laugh from the press. Sofia beamed up at me and mugged for the cameras.

“Is she going to be starring in your movie?”

“Casting decisions belong to the studio, of course, but if someone doesn’t snatch her for another picture, I think we would be honored to have her in the movie.”

With that, we moved into the club to make room for a new arrival, trailed by Charles and Charlotte, and were ushered to a table that sat, coincidentally, under a soft spotlight. There were two other couples already seated there who got up to greet us, offering air kisses and handshakes.

The other couples were all young, up and coming actors and actresses, the girls known to Sofia, and they all looked like what I expected to see in Hollywood.

The staff were all provocatively dressed, with an abundance of thigh-high hose, bustiers and acres of cleavage. Definitely a dessert for the eyes. The drinks were outrageously priced, but delivered with a suggestive flair so that your eyes were not on the tab.

The live art installation was a faux bondage act, with slow, languorous flicks of a flail against the scantily clad back of the ‘victim’. It was slightly erotic for a moment, but soon just became part of the scenery.

There were several slightly familiar faces, but no one whose identity jumped out at me and, based on the number of people who stopped by to introduce themselves, I thought I might actually be the most famous person in the place. It sounds stranger saying that than hearing it, trust me.

One thing I found passing strange was that you could almost figure out who thought they were somebody by the way they dressed down. The average Joe, coming to the club to see celebrities, was dressed to the nines while the would-be celebs, rap stars and sports figures that were pointed out to me invariably wore jeans or even, in one case, denim bib overalls!

It wasn’t a rule, really, because several of the people pointed out as ‘someone’ was dressed as we were, but they seemed to be the exceptions.

We stayed for an hour and I was glad to leave. It seemed so very fake, so plastic. It wasn’t that I couldn’t relax and enjoy the scenery, I did that, but after a while, all the fake breasts start to look the same.

We left and paused, briefly, for more photographs, then climbed into the limo to head to the real party.

Once inside, and with the door closed, Sofia slumped back and groaned, massaging her cheeks as she kicked off her shoes.

“I hope you don’t mind, but my face hurts! All that fake smiling and laughing, I don’t know how some people do it.”

She opened her eyes and looked around, seeing us all staring at her and she blushed.

“Um ... sorry? I just, well, at least in Jersey, I knew people and could relax, you know? Tonight was about image and being seen so I had to be on.” she explained with a shrug.

I just grinned at her. “I’m from Chicago where dressing up means you wear your new White Sox hat to the bar to watch the game.”

She just grinned and reached into the mini bar, grabbing a bottle of water and offering some to the rest of us.

Before we arrived, we talked about what to expect. I let her know that I had no intention of staying all night, wanting to put in an appearance and be out of there in just a couple of hours at the most.

She seemed fine with that, but left it open for her to stay if she decided, but promised to let us know one way or the other. Charlotte offered to shadow her for protection but she just smiled and, with a flick of her wrist, showed a wicked looking butterfly knife she had hidden somewhere.

“I’m from Jersey.” she said as way of explanation. I just shrugged when Charlotte looked at me. She was a big girl who could make her own decisions and, unlike Abby, she didn’t work for me.

Our arrival at the party was lower key than the last one, since we were simply guests and not the reason for the party. Still, the paparazzi were out in force and were shooting photos and videos from behind a barricade.

It was a wilder scene, with people dancing and smoking pot, even one girl snorting coke from the top of the bar.

We took a short walk around to be seen together, then I found a place to sit at the bar and Charlotte, stuck by my side, running interference. I got to see one of the tricks of the security trade when Charlotte ordered a drink.

She leaned over so the bartender could hear her, “I am security, give me something non-alcoholic with some color.” she said, handing the man a ten.

“It’s an open bar, Miss.” the bartender said, making the ten disappear anyway, and delivering Charlotte a colorful drink that looked like a panty-dropper.

I was amused, and impressed, and told her so. She just grinned at me and shrugged. “Protective coloration.” she said, then turned to watch the crowd.

I made small talk with a few folks, but mostly sat and watched the parade of characters. We had been there less than an hour when Sofia found me and let me know she was going to stick around and go to an after party. I thought the guy she was hanging on was explanation enough, but she at least kept her word. I told her she had fulfilled her obligation and told her to have fun.

I was ready to leave, and I think Charlotte recognized that. She pulled out her phone, but then tensed for a moment. I turned to see what she was looking at and ran right into the lips of Amanda Webb!

“Oh, you ruined it! I was going to sneak up, kiss you on the cheek and then hide. It would have been much funnier.” she complained, then gave me a second kiss, this time on the lips.

“I hope you don’t mind, but dad gave me the address and I wanted to some see how you were getting on with tonight’s date. When I saw her bail, I thought I would step up and do the right thing by keeping you company.”

“Oh, I see. So, you are just upholding the honor of your family and your father’s company, sacrificing your time? I guess I am expected to throw a snit and refuse to come out of my room or something, right?”

She looked at me, her expression serious, then her face lit up with a grin. “Okay, that was kind of lame. Yes, I came here to see you and yes, I am glad the skank took a hike. Okay?”

“Definitely.”

“And you...” she said, turning to Charlotte, “are security. A damn good looking body guard too!”

Charlotte just nodded, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards.

“Well, you are way too fit to be one of these bimbos and way too serious to be some fitness model looking for a break. The way you looked at me when I was sneaking up behind David sealed the deal though.”

“Where are my manners? Amanda Webb, Charlotte Franklin. Charlotte is part of my protection detail and, after the mess at your father’s party, she wanted to be here in case my date ran into trouble again. Charlotte, Amanda is Ari Weismann’s daughter, and an MBA student at USC.”

“Christ, that was a fucking mess at the party. I didn’t hear about it until you had already left, my cousin Dov told me. Is Abby okay?” Amanda asked, looking concerned.

“She says she is fine and was enjoying a spa day when I left.”

“Excellent! I am not just defending my dad because he is my dad, but those things never happen at his parties. He was as mad as I can ever remember seeing him.”

“I think she will be fine. The guy’s parents already contacted her, apologizing.”

“Do you really want to be here? I was thinking that I could talk the rich screenwriter into taking the poor student for some pancakes.” she said with a grin, batting her eyes at me.

I thought Charlotte was going to choke on her drink.

We ended up at an iHop on Santa Monica Blvd, with Charles and Charlotte sitting a couple of tables away, and I had a great time. Amanda was a blast to sit and chat with, and we must have spent two hours just chatting over coffee. It wasn’t super busy in there and a twenty slipped to the waitress kept them from running us out.

“So, listen, little miss Amanda. I notice that you haven’t said anything about a love interest. Are you single?” I asked.

“I am currently single, aggressively so.” she said, looking down at her coffee cup.

“Aggressively?”

She was quiet for a bit, thinking, so I just let her take her time.

“I was with my last boyfriend for two years. It was good at first, then slowed down, but I thought, that is what happens, right? But it wasn’t just entropy. I tried all the things the magazine suggests and they were fun, but it ... it wasn’t like I thought it should be. I wasn’t sure for a while if it was my expectations or if it was our relationship. Finally, I decided it didn’t matter which it was, I wasn’t happy.”

She paused and watched me, gauging my reaction, I guess.

“Yeah, so, aggressively. I decided that I need to be single for a while. I need to be me, not part of a duo. When I figure out what I want, then I will start shopping around. So, I date, I have some fun, but never with the guys or girls with white picket fence fantasies.”

I saw her eyes dart to me at the mention of girls, but I didn’t react because I didn’t care. Selene had broken me of the bad habit of thinking same-sex lovers were ‘different’ and if she hadn’t, then the twins and Christine & Lucy would have.

“What about you?”

“Hmmm ... something similar, though for different reasons. Nancy was the forever girl and I don’t know if you get over something like that. I have a circle of friends and women that I love dearly and all of whom love me. I don’t think I could choose even if I wanted to and, frankly, I don’t want to.” I said, and it was my turn to watch her.

She seemed to think it over for a bit. “I’ll be honest with you, I was seriously thinking about inviting myself to your hotel tonight. I haven’t had this much fun just talking with a guy in a long, long time and I think we could have a lot of fun in other ways too.”

“But?”

She flashed me a look and then grinned. “But ... You may not be right for a night, or even a weekend and you have obligations. Then you fly back to Chicago.” She sat silently watching me again. It was eerie, like she was trying to see inside my head.

“So, have lunch with me tomorrow and we can continue our verbal intercourse instead.” I said with a leer, getting her to snort again.

Back at the hotel, Abby was sitting on the couch in a robe, her feet up and the television on, a half-empty bottle of wine at her elbow and looking very relaxed.

When she started to get up, I just waved her back down and sat on the couch next to her. I kicked off my shoes, lifted my legs up to the ottoman next to hers and let out a big, tired sigh.

We chatted a bit about the party and my ‘date’, and I told her about Ari’s daughter and that we were becoming friends.

Abby told me about her spa day and tried to get me to examine the pores on her face, like I had any idea what the hell she was talking about. She laughed at me when I managed to sputter that they looked “great, really ... um ... very fresh?” The nerve of some people!

We finished off the wine and then bid each other good night.

Saturday we played tourist again. Amanda came with us and we took a helicopter ride over to see the Hollywood sign, then over the canyons where the rich and famous lived before landing in Santa Barbara for lunch. Afterwards it was aboard a yacht owned by one of the movie backers for a cruise back to Los Angeles again and a limo to the hotel.

Abby and Amanda seemed to get on famously and were chatting like best friends before lunch.

Saturday night was a whirlwind tour of the hotspots in Los Angeles. I was with an entourage this time, Amanda plus eight young actors and actresses and we did the red-carpet thing a dozen times before I called it quits. Amanda went home again at the end of the night, much to my regret. I could tell there was some serious tension between us and I knew what side of the fence I wanted her to land on.

Sunday was a down day, with Abby and Charlotte off to the beach and me just being a bum and calling the girls back home. I spent several hours talking to them and assuring them that I loved them and missed them. I swam a bit, worked out a bit and napped, mostly.

Cassie was at the hotel bright and early, and joined us for breakfast. She made more points when she mocked Abby for worrying about the Jag, telling her that she would go with her to the dealer and Abby could pick one out for Cassie if she was so torn about it.

I think that did more to settle Abby than all the talking I did.

I had been looking forward to today, to meeting up with the cast from Big Bang Theory and doing the read through of the script.

We arrived at the studio to bad news, for me at least. I did get to meet the cast but the episode had been scratched. The producers had decided that the timing was wrong or something, I never did get what I thought was a reasonable explanation, but the rest all seemed to think it was normal Hollywood.

On the plus side, it meant that I could go home early and I missed the girls. I did make a call to Amanda, to thank her for the wonderful time we had together and to promise I would look her up when I came back. She seemed distant on the phone, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sudden departure or if she was just insulating herself, but there wasn’t much I could do in either case.

Raul called back to the hotel and the rest of the crew was waiting with our bags. We picked them up and headed to the airport for the return flight.

I got a pleasant surprise at the airport. When we pulled into the private aviation terminal, Ari and Amanda were there waiting for us.

“David, I am sorry that sitcom didn’t work out for you, but we will see what else is available. I was going to call you to say thanks for coming down, but someone insisted that we come out and do it in person.” He was grinning at me, and stepped aside for his daughter. I had wondered how he would take us spending so much time together, but it didn’t look like he minded.

Amanda and I walked apart from the others to talk.

“David, look, when you come back, plan on spending that weekend we talked about. I think we need to see if that is enough or...” her voice trailed off as she stood looking up at me.

“I think I would like that very much, Amanda.”

When she kissed me, I mentally changed that to “I know I would!”

All of my ladies were working or in school when we landed in Chicago and the writing team still had a week before they were expected back, so our return home was a quiet one.

Once the equipment was offloaded, I had the team take me by the office. Cassidy, who remained in Los Angeles and wouldn’t be coming back to Chicago for a couple of weeks, had set up some interviews for a new Office Manager, and I wanted to get the particulars from Beth Staples, who had stayed behind to check out some properties while we were gone.

The office was unnaturally quiet, with everyone gone, but the office Cassidy had used was being occupied by Beth for now, and her light was on.

“David, how was your trip?” she asked when we arrived.

“It was ... interesting. I am sure you will get a full report from your comrades, but let’s just say that Los Angeles is a whole different world from Chicago.

We all gathered in the conference room and Abby brought in coffee while we discussed the trip.

“So, what do you have for me?”

“Well, I think we found a property that matches all your wants except one, and also matches the parameters we set for security, or will with a few upgrades.” Beth said, sliding over a folder.

“Oh?” I opened the folder and pulled out a stack of photographs, setting them aside to read the write-up she had done.

It was a penthouse apartment on the 49th and 50th floor of a high rise. It had stupendous views of the city on one side, the lake on the other, and had open air balconies on all sides. At more than 4,000 square feet with three bedrooms and three and a half baths, not to mention three dedicated parking spaces, it was a beautiful apartment. The price reflected that cost too, at $1.7m.

The elevator was currently not locked down, or so the report said, but for a nominal fee to the building management and the elevator maintenance company, a card reader could be installed that would prevent anyone from coming to the top floor without the right access card or an invite from the control panel in the apartment.

Surveillance was non-existent at the moment, but that was easily fixed and the security system would have to be upgraded.

It was on the high end of what I had budgeted to spend, but I really liked the look of the place and the location, while not spectacular, was serviceable. It was one block from the Navy Pier and only three and a half from the river, both being visible from the balconies.

The security team liked it because it was easily secured and monitored. While I would have preferred a single-family detached dwelling, finding something like that in Chicago, in an area that had not been hit by urban blight, was a bit like searching for a unicorn these days.

I gave them the go-ahead to set up a time when we could view the apartment together.

On the office manager front, there were three choices and each one had undergone a criminal background check and been found clean.

Two were female, one was male, and they all had experience. Beth liked the oldest of the three, a grandmother who had managed the offices of a law firm here in Chicago until she retired five years before at fifty-five to care for her husband who was ill. He died a year later and after four years of the bridge and biddy circuit, she wanted to work again.

I told Beth to set something up and let me know when. If we didn’t click, then we would move on to the others.

I let the team know that once I had an office manager, I was going to have him or her start looking for another new employee. I wanted an accountant, book-keeper, investment advisor type of person who would look after the trust and manage my finances. The Nancy Prescott Memorial Education Trust was already set up, on paper, and was just waiting for an infusion of capital. The first act of the new bookkeeper would be to transfer the funds from my personal accounts and get things moving.

Since all of the business was taken care of, we adjourned for the day and I thanked Beth for her hard work while I was in Los Angeles.

Once we reached my apartment and I assured the security team that I was in for the night, I sat down with Abby to discuss her future.

“So, you survived the trip so my question for you is, do you want the job? Do you want to be my babysitter?”

“Absolutely. In fact, unless you changed your mind, I will take that spare bedroom so I am here when you need me. My little one-bedroom apartment is nothing I care about and what little I have there, beyond my clothes, can go to the salvation army. Hell, half of it came from there when I moved in!”

“Excellent. Your salary will take a nice little jump from $35K to $50K with room and board included. Your first piece of business will be to contact Wendy Duff and see about how I am supposed to be paying people. Find out about taxes and so on. Up to now, I haven’t had any direct employees since you were being paid through the studio and they were billing me. I think we need to set up a company, probably a limited liability front, if I remember correctly from my MBA courses. We can transfer quite a few bills over to the corporation for tax purposes. The new apartment or house I get, phones, insurance, vehicles and so on. Wendy will have someone who knows the drill.”

“You will be the point of contact for me in everything but personal business. I am going to have to get another cell phone with a new number. The new number I will give only to friends and family. You are going to have to manage my schedule as well as handle things like shopping, dry cleaning and what have you.”

I watched Abby’s face as we talked and she took notes. I was asking a lot of her and I wanted to see how she was going to react. I was gratified to see that her smile hadn’t wavered a bit, yet.

“So, what do you think? Still want the job?”

“Hell yes! I spent as much time surfing the web and painting my fingernails as I spent working when I was at the office. This sounds like a blast!” she said, enthused.

“Okay, so what is our schedule for tomorrow?”

She looked up at me, her brow furrowed, then tapped on her phone for a moment. “My first order of business is to set up a meeting with the law firm to discuss the creation of the LLC. New phones, hiring an office manager and a bookkeeper, setting up a bank account, even the purchase of an apartment or house are all going to be on hold, or delayed, until we get the LLC up and running. You currently have nothing on your schedule until the writing team comes back from vacation and we have revisions from Starlight.” Abby rapped out the list without pausing, then looked up with a smile.

“You have a free schedule for now, but you also need to collect your licenses and Charles mentioned something about purchasing a handgun or two for you. I think I should see about getting trained and licenses as well, but I will talk to Beth and Charlotte about the ins and outs.”

“Well done!” I crowed, clapping my hand on my thigh. “You will want to schedule some time off for yourself. You are not expected to work 24/7/365. In fact, once you set up the appointment with Wendy’s people, I want you to disappear for a couple of days. See friends, get drunk, anything but work. You spent the last week on duty without a real break.”

“I guess I could see about closing out my apartment.” she said, thinking out loud.

“We can pay someone to move whatever you want to keep into storage and bring your personal items here. Worry about that after you get back. The idea is for you to relax. I am going to be asking a lot of you and I don’t want you burning out!”

She just nodded thoughtfully.

“Okay, get out of here. Call me in the morning once you have an appointment set up and then have fun. Go and pick out a Jag or something.” I teased, reminding her of the envelope she still had in her suitcase.

Her eyes lit up and she nodded, grabbing her purse. I called her a taxi and sent her home.

A knock on the door, not long after Abby left, surprised me. I hadn’t been expecting anyone so I checked the security cameras that had been installed. There was a uniformed police officer at the door ... Angela!

“Are you here to arrest me, officer?” I said, opening the door and smiling at the beautiful woman who stood there.

“It depends.” she said with a scowl, “Did you do anything illegal in Los Angeles?” She followed me into the house and closed the door behind her, throwing her arms around my neck as soon as the door was closed.

“I missed you, Angela.” I whispered, peppering her face with kisses.

“I missed you too! Out there with all those beautiful starlets, surrounded by fake titties and half-naked women throwing themselves at you, while I was here, slaving away, keeping the city safe for the honest citizens.” she pouted as she pushed me backward, step by step, until I was sitting on the couch and she loomed over me.

“Tell me, David. Were you a good boy?” she asked with a grin, standing over me, her hands releasing the keepers on her duty belt. I was silent as I watched her do an unbelievably erotic strip tease.

Her duty belt, with the handgun, spare magazines, cuffs and other assorted gear was laid carefully in a chair. Her hat, on the other hand, stayed on as she began unbuttoning her uniform shirt. Even the removal of her body armor and the special, sweat wicking undershirt was sexy, in a ‘Mistress, don’t hurt me’ kind of way.