Hidden Gem Short Story Collection (9781301405985) by India Lee Page B

starts now.”
    Within hours, Harper
fulfilled her mission, having struck up conversation with a
stunningly good-looking, jet-haired model named Steven or Stephan,
who was signed to the L.A branch of her agency. It explained his
overwhelming prettiness. He was actually a little too gorgeous for
Harper’s taste but that didn’t matter when she wasn’t scouting him
for herself. And it certainly didn’t matter with Zoe looking so
pleased with her pick upon introduction, quickly whisking Steven or
Stephan off to some secluded part of the house – or at least a spot
where Harper couldn’t watch her and laugh.
    Damn it . Suddenly without the entertainment she’d anticipated for
the night, Harper groaned inwardly, swatting away the drunk guys
with cheesy lines before retreating back into the house to fix
another drink or two, hoping they might make her a little more
tolerant of the wasted partygoers. Having consumed probably double
the alcohol they had, she couldn’t help looking at them with
disgust. Amateurs .
    Quickly giving up on finding company that
she could stand, Harper soon found herself at the backdoor of the
empty-looking pool house that was perched at the end of the
shimmering blue pool. She had heard passing guests mention that it
was under construction and thus off-limits, which made it perfect
for her purposes of hiding out until Zoe emerged from wherever she
had gone with Steven.
    All she had to do was break in.
    That would be easy enough. It was just a pin
and tumbler lock. She’d worked those a dozen times in the past year
alone – generally with the doors of the Lilac wine cellar and
Joie’s parents’ room, where they kept hashish from their trip to
Morocco.
    After retreating back into the Westin
mansion on a material hunt, Harper returned with a safety pin from
the office and a wrench that she’d sent one of her male admirers to
find since she had no idea where the “maintenance room” was.
    Going straight to work, Harper stuck the
wrench into the lock, twisting it as much as she could to keep
tension while using her makeshift pick – the safety pin,
straightened and hooked at the end – to feel for the pins inside
the tumbler. Within fifteen seconds, the door was open.
    Closing the door quietly
behind her, Harper stepped onto the shiny hardwood flooring of the
pool house, looking up at the high, beamed ceilings. It was bigger
than her floor in Hudson’s Upper East Side townhouse. It was
probably bigger than the entire townhouse. What is this place?
    Before her was an open
kitchen of white tile, oak and stainless steel. Harper wandered
over to the wall that was comprised from floor-to-ceiling of square
oak shelves. Filling each compartment were books. Harper ran her
finger along their spines, her eyes scanning their diverse array of
topics. Motorcycles, choppers, Henry Ford, South American cooking,
World War II, bourbon, Japanese tattoo art. Considering those
subjects, Harper couldn’t help but laugh when her fingers reached
the spine of a giant coffee table book simply titled PUPPIES .
    Continuing down the line,
she eventually pulled out a book titled Willpower Through Yoga & Meditation .
    “ Haven’t read that one
yet.”
    For some reason, Harper wasn’t startled by
the sudden voice behind her. Perhaps because it sounded so calm and
unfazed by her presence. Or perhaps because she had somehow felt
him before he’d said a word. Still holding the book, she looked
over her shoulder.
    Standing there was a shirtless boy with
close-shaven brown hair and far more height and muscle than Harper
felt was normal for somebody his age – assuming he was eighteen or
so. In his left hand was a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Running up
the arm of that hand was a black tattoo of roman numerals. Harper
didn’t even care that she was staring.
    “ Not a fan of willpower?”
she asked.
    He kept his green eyes locked on her as he
swigged from the whiskey bottle. He wiped his mouth with the top of
his inked