Beauty Mark

Chapter 1-3

Lavender caught up with her. “It’s okay, I’ve got your back,” she said. “He’s gone.”

Scarlett grinned at her new friend. “Thanks.” As she was wheeling her luggage toward the taxi line, her phone rang.

“Hi chica, are you back from London?” It was Johnny Silva, her childhood friend from the barrio, who’d been best friends with her brother Franco. He was the maître d’ at the Polo Lounge now.

“Just landed, and waiting for a taxi.” She was glad to hear from him.

“You, in a taxi line? It’s almost eleven at night. Thought Marsh & Gold always called a limo for you. Are they having budget cuts?”

“No, it just worked out that way.” Scarlett didn’t want to tell Johnny about Lucan. Ever since they’d been children, he’d always sprang to her defense. She’d never hear the end of it.

“I’m nearby. I’ll come get you. Wait there.”

When Johnny wheeled into the airport fifteen minutes later, Scarlett greeted him with a hug. “So glad to see you, Johnny. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anything for my chica. Things were awfully quiet without you.” Johnny lifted her luggage into the trunk of his vintage red Mustang convertible. He’d bought it years ago, and had restored it one piece at a time.

It was a warm evening, and he had the top down. As he opened the door for her, his glossy black hair shimmered in the evening lights. “Are you hungry?”

“A little. Dinner was somewhere over the Atlantic.” Scarlett slid into the car.

“Want to head over to the hotel? Lance is working on some new dishes tonight.”

“I’d like that,” Scarlett said, finally relaxing after the long flight. She never had to be anyone other than who she was with Johnny. Why can’t romantic relationships be like this?

As Johnny drove, they talked about their friends, Verena and Lance, who had been dating for a while. Lance was the executive chef at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the legendary pink palace on Sunset Boulevard in Beverly Hills, a favorite hotel of Hollywood stars throughout the decades. Johnny was the maître d’ at the Polo Lounge, where the beautiful people still gathered and felt at home.

To the people who’d lived in Beverly Hills for many years, like some of Scarlett’s friends and their families, the five-square-mile community would always be a little village, where doctors still made house calls, shops had private house accounts, and restaurants and delicatessens let regular customers run a monthly tab.

Today, Van Cleef & Arpels and Cartier glittered on Rodeo Drive, and tour buses lumbered along pristine residential streets, but the city still maintained its charm among residents, who could walk almost anywhere in the city—a rarity in the car-dependent culture of Los Angeles.

Not that many of them did, of course.

Johnny parked and they threaded their way through the back entrance of the luxury hotel. Outside, under pink archways, the open-air terrace dining area was ablaze with red bougainvillea, green garden chairs, and white tablecloths.

They reached the front of the Polo Lounge, where Johnny showed Scarlett to a booth in the bar area. Dark green walls created a clubby ambiance, mirrors reflected the dazzling array of guests, and polo pictures and a green-and-white striped ceiling harkened to the hotel’s early days. Strains of jazz floated in the air.

“Scarlett, welcome home,” said a slender blond woman who was already seated in the booth. She wore a creamy silk sheath dress and pearls.

“Verena, it’s so good to see you.” Scarlett hugged her friend and scooted in beside her. “I feel like I’ve been gone forever.” She loosened the collar of her blouse and smoothed her hair back.

“Seems like it. A month, wasn’t it?” Verena’s fair porcelain skin seemed to glow in the low lights. Whether it was from happiness or her new skincare line, Scarlett couldn’t tell, but she was glad Verena was doing better. After all she’d been through with her business and her family, she deserved it.

“That’s right. Milan, Florence, Paris, London.” It sounded exciting, but she’d often worked sixteen-hour days. Still, she had to admit she met amazing people and dined in all the best restaurants. Working at the firm was like having velvet shackles.

“Has Johnny told you the news?” Verena could hardly contain herself.

“No, what’s going on?”

Verena looked like she was going to burst with happiness. “I’ll let him tell you.”

Johnny winked at her. “I’ll get Lance.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

“Did Lance propose?” Scarlett touched Verena’s left hand, which was bare.

“No, not that. Too soon for us.” Verena’s blue eyes were as brilliant as sapphires, and they glowed with excitement.

“When you’re ready, we should talk about prenuptial agreements.”

“I lost everything, remember?” Verena laughed. “But we’re happy.”

“You’re creating new intellectual property now, trademarks, copyrights, service marks.” Scarlett started to launch into a legal discourse, and then she caught Verena’s amused expression. It was late, and she was being overzealous again. She couldn’t help it; it was in her blood.

“Relax, Scarlett. Everything in time, Mia says.”

At the mention of Verena’s grandmother, Scarlett pressed a hand to her heart. “How is she?”

“Much better now. She’s been released from the hospital. She’s a real fighter. In fact, she and Camille went shopping today. You can’t keep a fashionista down when Neiman Marcus has its Last Call sale.”

Scarlett smiled, imagining the two doyennes of beauty together. Camille was their friend Dahlia’s grandmother; Camille had founded a perfume empire decades ago. Originally from Switzerland, Mia had established a skincare salon in Beverly Hills in the 1940s. After Verena’s parents died in a tragic accident, Mia raised Verena and her two younger twin sisters.

Johnny appeared at the table, and with him was Lance Martel, the executive chef. They all greeted one another and sat down.

“I told Scarlett that you’ve been experimenting with some new dishes.”

A half-smile tugged at Lance’s mouth. “Salmon or pork?”

“Salmon,” Scarlett said.

“Good choice. I’ll whip one up for you. Did Johnny tell you?”

Scarlett shook her head. “No, and I wish someone would. You’re all killing me. What’s going on?”

Johnny and Lance traded a look. “We’re starting our own restaurant,” Johnny said. “We’ll finally be in a place of our own.”

“Why, that’s wonderful.” Scarlett was truly happy for Johnny. Both men were talented and had devoted followings. The restaurant business was tough, but if anyone could do it, these two could. “Congratulations. When, where, and what’s the name?”

“Scarlett, slow down,” Johnny said. “We just decided. As usual, you’re several steps ahead of us.”

Scarlett felt her cheeks grow warm and she laughed. “Occupational hazard.”

Lance excused himself and went to prepare Scarlett’s meal while the three friends caught up. When Lance returned with the salmon dish, it was one of the best preparations she thought she’d ever had. It was perfectly moist and seasoned with fresh herbs. A citrus reduction sauce was just the right accent, and a bed of spaghetti squash and spinach balanced the fish. Scarlett realized she was starving.

After she’d finished eating, Verena and Lance left. Scarlett watched them go. She was elated for them, but she also wondered where the magic was that had brought the two of them together. Where was her magic?

“Would you like to have hot chocolate by the pool before I take you home?” Johnny asked.

Johnny knew her well. She’d almost forgotten how they used to drink hot chocolate together. “I’d like that.”

They strolled through the hotel, past the old soda fountain shop and out to the pool. A server delivered the hot chocolate he’d asked for. They were seated at a table when Scarlett said, “You know what I’d like to do?”

“No telling,” Johnny said, watching her with dancing eyes, dark as mahogany.

Scarlett slipped her feet from her high heels and rolled up her trousers. Johnny laughed and followed suit. Soon the two of them were sitting at the pool, dangling their legs in the cool water, and cupping hot chocolate in their hands.

Scarlett tilted her head back and gazed up at the full moon, which cast shimmering shadows on the rippling water.

Johnny touched her chin. “Hold it right there. You have cat’s eyes in this light, a gorgeous golden green. Simply beautiful.”

As was Johnny. Lots of women adored him. Scarlett noted a dimple in one of his cheeks when he grinned. “What a funny thing to say, Johnny.”

He shrugged. “I’m noticing the little things more.” He waved a hand around. “Look at us. Good friends, a good place in our lives. We’ve come so far, chica. Let’s savor our success.”

“Who has time?” The partner track had sapped her energy. The memory of Lucan assailed her thoughts.

“What a sad comment.” Johnny slid his hand over hers and held it. “We have to make time. Think about it. Life doesn’t get much better than this.”

Scarlett gazed into his eyes. Johnny always spoke with such passion. That’s what attracted her to him. Where, oh where, is a man like this in my love life?

Still, it was good to have friends like Johnny. If only Franco were here with them now, the three of them laughing and teasing each other like they used to, so long ago. Maybe he was looking down on them.

She rested her head on Johnny’s shoulder and sipped her hot chocolate.