At the Drop of a Hat Read Online Free PDF Page B

of Anthony Russo?” I asked.
    â€œSo eager for gossip?” Harrison asked.
    â€œMore like answers,” I said. “What do we know about Ariana Jackson, really, other than she’s marrying a friend of yours?”
    Harrison frowned as if he had never thought about Ariana before as anything other than Stephen’s fiancée.
    What I didn’t add was that of course I was eager for juicy gossip. Having done my time in the hot seat, I always enjoyed hearing about someone else’s foibles so long as it wasn’t mean in nature.
    â€œAnthony Russo is known for being a womanizing, drunken, lascivious letch,” Andre said. “And a gambler.”
    â€œHow does he still have a career then?” Viv asked.
    â€œHe is also an excellent attorney,” Nick said. “He works for people in the entertainment industry who find themselves in sticky situations.”
    â€œSuch as?” I asked.
    â€œThe singer Shelley Martin was busted for drug use and sex with underage boys,” Andre said. “Russo got her off without even an ASBO.”
    I lifted my eyebrows. An ASBO is an antisocial behavior order and was actually quite common.
    â€œAnd then there was Mark Tracey,” Nick confided. “Doped up on heroin and decided to take a naked stroll in front of Buckingham Palace. He was wearing nothing but his rubbers.”
    I burst out laughing. Rubbers having an entirely different meaning in the States, making Nick’s comment even more hilarious.
    â€œGot off with some charitable works, I believe,” Nick said. “Reading to the blind or some such malarkey.”
    â€œI find it hard to believe Ariana works for such a man,” Viv said. “She seemed very earnest and hardworking, not the sort who would be amused by the shenanigans of spoiled rock stars.”
    â€œIt’s a job,” I said. “A good-paying job, and since she doesn’t seem to have any family to lean on, it makes sense that she would work for whoever paid her the most. She strikes me as the type that would be very good at legal work. There is something very . . .”
    â€œDependable.” Harrison supplied the word I was looking for.
    â€œExactly, dependable about her,” I said. Then I frowned. “Except I really would have expected her to answer my texts or messages by now.”
    â€œIt could be a severe case of bride brain,” Vivian said. “Goodness knows we’ve dealt with worse. Remember the bride who showed up at our shop the night before her wedding completely pissed and wanted hats for her entire wedding party—the ones she had met in the pub that afternoon?”
    I laughed. Pissed in this case meant drunk rather than angry and the bride in question had been sauced. She had left the shop with ten mismatched fascinators, adorable small hats worn mostly in front or on the side, and to this day I wonder what had happened and would love to see the pictures of this sordid wedding party.
    â€œI suppose we’re just going to have to pop in at her place of employment,” Viv said. “That way we can speak with her directly about the options for her mother’s hat.”
    I noted that everyone’s gaze turned to me. Of course they did, because we all knew that when Viv said “we,” she meant “me,” not the two of us.
    *   *   *
    Kensington, the borough where Russo’s office was located, was on the other side of Hyde Park from Notting Hill. I could have bussed the entire distance but I decided to catch the tube to Lancaster Gate and cut through the park instead because for the first time in weeks the sun had trumped the rain and the world was sparkly and shiny and new once again.
    There was a crisp sweetness to the air as if I were breathing the first bite of a crunchy apple. The sun was warm on my face but the breeze was cool, tossing and teasing my hair as I made my way into the park.
    Judging by