Free Impossible Glamour by Maggie Marr Page A

leaned forward, close to my face. Too close. Damn. Heat sizzled between us. Heat and this kind of impulse that throbbed through my chest. What the fuck was that?
    “Your mouth is kind of pretty.” Ellen raised an eyebrow and leaned back onto the barstool. “I like your mouth. I also like the smart things that come out of your mouth. You’ve got a good sense of humor, Webber. Sharp-tongued devil that you are.”
    Four shots were lined up in front of us.
    “Did Ellen Legend just give me a compliment?”
    “She did. The Legend gave the Webzie a compliment.”
    I cringed. “Okay hearing that repeated back to me sounds like the douchiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    Ellen lifted her shot glass. “To douchey sayings.” She laughed a giant laugh.
    “To douchey sayings.”
    Our glasses clinked and we downed our shots.
    “Now”—Ellen spun toward me—“it’s time for you, Mr. I Am the Biggest Baddest Agent in Town, to get your ass onto the dance floor.”
    I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts. “You will not have to ask me twice.”
    Ellen grasped my hand and pulled me out onto the dance floor, where I proceeded to let her shake me all night long.
     
     
    Ellen
     
    “You will not be driving.” Daddy grabbed the car keys from my hand. “Where is your sister?” He turned in a circle like a dog chasing his tail.
    “Daddy? She left with Trick like two hours ago. Give me my keys.”
    “Absolutely not. I have cars for everyone. Come see.”
    I followed Daddy to the circle drive in front of his Malibu manse where Choo and Jackson had said their I Dos. There was, in fact, a town car ready and waiting.
    “See, one for you,” Daddy said. “Sheila will be staying here.” A redhead in high heels jiggled across the driveway and clutched Daddy’s side. I was thankful that Mama had left earlier, long before Daddy started with the shots and the girls. I swallowed. Shots. I’d had a few. I pressed my hand to my belly. My stomach didn’t feel awesome, but I had tomorrow off and the next day and the day after.
    “Don’t forget, doll, the car will be at your house by ten a.m. tomorrow. Be ready to vamoose! Your mama and I are adamant you get a little R & R. You deserve it, my little Nobel laureate.”
    “Wait! Wait! Yo, I need a ride!”
    Webber stumbled out the front of the Malibu pad, trying to zip his fly. He took two steps back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, put it in lock there, Big Boy.”
    Big Boy? Who the hell was Big Boy? Now Webzie had another nickname for himself.
    “Yo, Steve-o, can I get a ride-o? Oh?” Webber’s gaze fell onto Daddy, who had his lips attached to the redhead’s lips and his hands locked to her ass. Webber glanced from me to Daddy and back to me.
    Daddy pulled away. “Webber, why don’t you make certain Ellen gets home safe and then take the car home?” Daddy’s eyes never left the redhead’s face. “I have some important business to attend.”
    “Right-o, Steve-o.” Webber walked toward me, and the driver opened the back door. “Thanks, Ellen. I know what Steve’s ‘business’ is, and I definitely do not want to hang around for that.”
    “No, you don’t.” Even tipsy I couldn’t stand seeing Daddy with another woman. There’d been so many throughout my life, you’d think I’d be numb to the parade of girls, but each time he pawed another woman, his philandering ways chipped away a tiny piece of my soul. Women, for Daddy, were interchangeable cogs. Necessities to service his manly needs. Not even his first wife, Joanne, who was Amanda and Sterling’s mom, had gotten Steve Legend to herself. Daddy had been sleeping with Mama since before he and Joanne were married.
    I settled into the soft black leather of the backseat. Nope. Not going to obsess about Daddy and his philandering ways. Tonight had been too good of a night to ponder the mind of my father. I popped my eyes open and reached for the bottle of Veuve chilling in a sterling-silver ice bucket. “Want a