Free Chasing Chaos: A Novel by Katie Rose Guest Pryal

the valet lot. She strolled down the sidewalk to the
restaurant. She climbed the steps and knocked on one of the two tall wooden
doors. The pair looked like they’d been salvaged from an old French chateau.
    After
a minute, she could hear a bolt turning, and then a young man leaned his head
out. Daphne gave him her winning smile.
    “Hey,”
he said, opening the door farther. “Can I help you?”
    “My
name is Daphne. I’m here to see Olivia.”
    “I’m
Ricky.” He stood in the doorway, using his shoulder to prop open the door.
Daphne was accustomed to this sort of behavior: men forgetting what they were
supposed to be doing during a conversation with her.
    “How
long have you worked at Rivet, Ricky?” Daphne asked, humoring him.
    “I
just started last week.”
    That
explained a few things, like his unprofessional behavior at the door and his
undesirable Monday afternoon lunch-to-dinner shift.
    “How
do you like it so far?”
    “It’s
incredible,” he said. “You’ll never believe who I waited on last week.”
    “Hush.”
Daphne interrupted him. “You know you’re not supposed to wait-and-tell. It’s in
the rules.”
    “Oh,
right.” Ricky ducked his head. “I keep forgetting.”
    “Pretend
you’re a doctor, and the guests are your patients. You can’t break their
confidentiality. Not for anything.”
    A
car engine churned behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see a dark
pewter Aston Martin pull into Rivet’s driveway.
    Ricky
let out a low whistle. “Sweet ride.”
    Daphne
strolled down the steps to the car. Sandy rolled down his window. “Just
dropping off Marlon before I head out to an appointment,” he said.
    Marlon
opened the passenger door. He stood and met her eyes over the roof of the car,
giving her a small smile.
    “I’ll
keep you posted on our progress,” Daphne said. “And on your catering bill.” She
gave an exaggerated wink.
    Sandy
touched the back of her hand where it rested on the car’s windowsill. “You
doing OK?”
    She
felt herself grow defensive for a moment. Sandy’s question unnerved her. She
was always OK. No matter what happened to her, she came through it all right.
That was who she was.
    “Sure,”
she said.
    “It
seems like Greta getting married has maybe brought up some stuff for you.”
    Daphne
thought about the scene she’d made at Sandy’s yesterday and felt ashamed. “I’m
sorry for how I acted at your house,” she said. “I was inexcusably rude—to you
and to Marlon.” She glanced at Marlon, who had turned his back to the car and
leaned against it, as though he’d intuited her desire for privacy. “I’ll
apologize to him as well.”
    “I’ve
been around a long time, and I’ve seen some things,” Sandy said. “Like when a
person feels she has something to make up for even when she doesn’t.”
    “I
just want Greta to be happy.”
    “She
wants the same for you.”
    Marlon
walked by her then and climbed the steps to the front door of Rivet. She
watched him speak with Ricky. Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned back
to Sandy. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “Greta and Timmy getting married
has brought up some ugly memories. But I don’t know how to make them stop.”
    “If
I knew how to make the ugly memories stop, I wouldn’t be living alone in that
big house.” He smiled at her and shook his head. “Do me a favor?” he asked.
    “Of
course.”
    “Give
Marlon a ride home for me?”
    Sandy
lived half way up Laurel Canyon. Rivet was basically in Pacific Palisades. To
give Marlon a ride home would take her past her own home in Brentwood—which was
fifteen minutes east of Rivet—and another thirty minutes east and north into
Hollywood and the hills above. In total, he was asking her to drive an hour out
of her way.
    “Sure
I can,” she quickly said. Such a small favor to clear her conscience over
yesterday’s detonation in Sandy’s kitchen? She was delighted to have the
chance.
    Sandy
sped off, and she