With a crooked, shaky finger, Mr. Nelson directed Reagan’s eyes toward a Christmas tree adorned in small brass bells and holly and centered along a windowed wall that showcased the entire San Fernando Valley. “Fifty years ago, right over there, I watched Audrey Hepburn share several drinks with William Holding as they looked out over the sparkling Valley.”
Reagan’s teeth were dry and sticking to her lips after smiling all evening. Most of their gloss was lost to politeness, but having made their way around to the two elderly men who cofounded GRG, the holding company her boyfriend worked for, she’d discovered they were like windows into L.A.’s glamorous past.
“I’ll tell you something else—-I know Audrey Hepburn was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world, but wow… You don’t know the half of it unless you’ve seen her in person.” He diverted his gaze entirely from Brandon, who was standing at Reagan’s side, and spoke straight at Reagan. “From the minute she entered the room I couldn’t pull my eyes from her. I had trouble believing those perfect, nuanced features could exist off-screen.” He leaned closer to Reagan in a way that invited her to do the same. “It’s a lot like that with you, my dear.”
Mr. Nelson’s wife patted his back. “You’re embarrassing the poor child, Bill.”
“Nonsense! Was I embarrassing you, dear?”
“No, no. I know flattery is ninety-nine percent protocol, or least that’s what my mother liked to say. So I’ll accept that I’m one percent as pretty as Audrey Hepburn.” She was aware her cheeks were heating up and must’ve reddened, which surely revealed her embarrassment despite professing otherwise.
Brandon rescued her modesty. “It’s good for Reggie to hear it from someone else, because my opinion has been branded biased.”
“Brandon’s actually seen what I look like first thing in the morning and didn’t run screaming for the door, so his opinion is hardly credible.”
Mr. Fillmore, the other cofounder, guided a hand around his wife’s waist. “Well the Pimentel has always attracted the most beautiful ladies.” His wife leaned against him, drawing a hand over her husband’s chest. “And it’s where they behave like anything but.” Her hand then slapped against his chest as she gave him a look.
Mr. Nelson was quick to pick it up. “He’s not kidding. His eyes bulged and his finger wagged unsteadily towards the south, cheery wood wall of the hotel’s banquet hall, where a lone piano player played a jazzy version of “White Christmas”. “Right there is where I spotted Joanne Woodward for the first time.” He sipped his drink. “She had on dark sunglasses, but it was her, alright. And she was with Paul Newman.” He winked. “But you see, Paul Newman was still married to his first wife at the time.”
He then shifted his attention to Brandon, and practically yelled at him, “You need to catch me in the office and bring me up on all the mergers you own.” He finished by tilting back the last of his scotch, and Reagan watched his eyes roll about in his head and worried he might collapse. She nudged Brandon to lend a hand, but then Mr. Nelson’s pupils finally steadied, and what they focused on were her tits. His wife had been latched onto his arm throughout, and she shook the tweed jacket sleeve to get his attention and suggest they get some water.
“I have to watch this one like a hawk,” his wife murmured as she past Reagan, and led her husband to a table full of punch bowls and trays of Asian-themed, finger foods.
“Bill never could hold his liquor.” Mr. Fillmore chuckled and touched Reagan on her bare shoulder, in an I-know-you-understand kind of way. “But Bill is right,” he said to her boyfriend, “Reagan is both gorgeous and delightful. This is where I tell you to marry her, but I trust you’ll figure that out on your own. I like to think we hire our men bright.”………………….Full story On The Next Page Go Below This Page Click>>>2