Julia London by Lucky Charm Page B

I’m going to
be on ESPN with my own talk show! I mean, assuming everything goes all right and it tests
out okay and they like the segments I tape and I don’t come across as a big dork. Can you
believe it? I have dreamed of this for years!”
    “Of course I can believe it. You’re
smart as hell and witty and gorgeous to boot. You’re the best,” he said, meaning it. “So
how long will you be gone?”
    “Two or three weeks. Maybe longer. I’m not sure.”
    Maybe
longer . . . that pinprick of panic was beginning to spread into a real fissure. Parker
was happy for Kelly, of course he was, terribly happy . . . but . . . but she was his
lucky charm.
    “I guess I should ask them exactly how long. Guido and theproducers of Sports Day decided I should just tell my listeners I’m going on
vacation and have a couple of rotating guest hosts sit in. That way, if ESPN doesn’t like
the show, or doesn’t pick it up for very long, I have a place to land. Isn’t that nice of them?” she chirped, and patted Parker on the chest before popping up off
the couch.
    She went into the kitchen and started bustling around, gathering lasagna and
salad. “I know you must be hungry. I don’t know what to wear.”
    “What?” he
asked, confused.
    Kelly’s laugh was bright and vibrant and reverberated in the apartment. “The
two statements are not related,” she said, giggling. “I mean, I don’t know what to wear
for the tests. Should I go casual? Or formal? Maybe a hip look?”
    “Yeah, that
sounds good,” he said, having no clue how a hip or casual look would differ. He got up and
walked into the kitchen to help her. “So . . . after you do this testing, you’re
definitely coming back, right?”
    “Of course!’ she cried, and paused to put her hand to
his face and kiss him. “If I get the show, I will be taping in Connecticut. If I don’t, I
will be back in New York. Don’t worry, Parker. I’m definitely coming back,” she said
sweetly. “Come on. This lasagna has been sitting around too long.”
    Parker made
himself eat, but he’d lost his appetite. He wasn’t sure why he had such a bad sense of
foreboding, but he did—a feeling that was based on absolutely nothing and bordered on
highly selfish. Nevertheless, he couldn’t seem to shake it.
    And as the
evening progressed, nothing could make it go away. Not fabulous love-making, not Kelly’s
show the next day, not batting practice where he was knocking them out of the park. He
just couldn’t shake that quiet, persistent unease that he couldn’t be the same without
her.
    And when he left a few days later, bound for St. Louis and then Houston, he
held a bubbly Kelly tightly to him, reluctant to let go,because if he
did, he feared everything he’d only just found would be lost. But Kelly laughingly assured
him, “It’s okay, Parker. Everything is going to be just fine.”
    He honestly
wanted to believe her. He honestly tried to believe her.

CHAPTER 11
    The first couple weeks she was in L.A., Kelly woke up every morning and
pinched herself. And though she left a trail of bruises, she kept doing it because she
couldn’t imagine what in the hell she’d ever done to deserve this fabulous new
life.
    First came her makeover: new haircut by Frankie Petronova, the hairdresser to the stars; thread lift on her brows to make her green eyes really pop; and
microdermabrasion to rid her face of a couple freckles, which were not, apparently, what
America wanted to see in their talk show hosts. Plus she was presented a hip new
wardrobe from all the best designers, put together just for her by Melania Chenowith, the
woman who dressed anyone who was anyone in Hollywood.
    And last but not least, she got
shoes. Shoes ! Boxes and boxes of really cool high-heeled shoes to go with each
outfit, even though there was no plan for the viewing audience to see her feet. But she’d see them, because every day she would look down at those puppies and sigh
with