Read The Wedding Band for Free Online

the hairpin turn like she was racing her Eos through the streets of Monaco instead of sleepy Laurel Canyon. Screeching to a stop in her driveway, she grabbed her bag and hotfooted through the back door.
    Her roomie, Raylene, leaped out of her path. “Chris! What the hell?” She licked up the Riesling that slopped over her knuckles.
    â€œSorry, I’m in a hurry.” Chris barreled across the kitchen and sprinted up the spiral staircase.
    â€œNo kidding. Where’s the fire?”
    â€œAt Dakota Rain’s,” Chris called down two flights. Her bedroom occupied the entire third floor, which wasn’t as impressive as it sounded, since the whole house was a shoebox standing on end, balanced on a million-­dollar postage stamp.
    Raylene followed her up the corkscrew stairs. “You’re going to Dakota Rain’s? Can I come?”
    â€œNo.” Chris pawed through her walk-­in closet. Off came the pink T-­shirt, replaced by a shimmery gold tank. “I have to keep an eye on my father. I can’t supervise you too.”
    â€œI’ll be good.”
    â€œYou’ll be trouble.”
    Raylene pouted. “I’m off probation in two weeks.”
    â€œUnless you’re arrested tonight. Then you’ll go to jail for six months.”
    Raylene’s third DUI had finally landed her in hot water. College chum or not, if she stayed on that road, Chris was kicking her out. She didn’t have room in her life for two alcoholics.
    While Raylene moped, Chris shucked her jeans and shimmied into a black skirt with a ruffle at midthigh.
    â€œI want your legs,” Raylene said grumpily. “And your ass.”
    â€œI want your tits and your triceps,” said Chris. “So we’re even.”
    She ducked into the bathroom to strip off her stage makeup. Raylene called through the door. “What if I promise not to drink?”
    â€œI’ve heard it before, Ray. I can’t deal with you tonight.”
    â€œFine. Be that way.” Ray clumped down the stairs.
    Chris let her go. No time to smooth feathers; she had to get to Dakota’s drunken orgy before Zach tumbled down all twelve steps and landed in a bottle of Beefeater.
    Tail on fire, she hit her cheeks with blush, her lips with gloss, and scooped up five-­inch gold Louboutins that would cut into Dakota’s vertical advantage. She was on a beeline for the stairs when Reed rang her cell.
    â€œPack your things,” he said without preamble, “and get out.”
    She froze in midstride. “You can’t fire me, I got the story!”
    â€œI mean get out of L.A. The senator’s suing the paper. The sheriff’s deputy just served me, and you’re next on the list.”
    â€œWell, shit.” Chris slewed a looked around her room. No place to hide.
    â€œIf you’re home, get out of the house,” Reed said. “Get out of L.A. Out of the country if you can. I’ll tell everyone you’re on assignment. That’ll slow things down while Owen works on Buckley to drop the suit.”
    Chris clutched her forehead. “What if she won’t?”
    Unemployment and disgrace, that’s what.
    â€œListen, Chris, Buckley’s pissed right now. She wants to turn the knife. So she’ll make tomorrow’s Sunday morning rounds, blast the liberal press, discredit the paper, and when she can’t get any more mileage, she’ll graciously accept our apology.” He snorted. “Trust me, no politician wants a judge scrutinizing their spending. She’ll pull the plug before it gets to court.”
    That sounded good, but something smelled fishy. “If you’re so sure she’ll drop it, why do I need to disappear?”
    â€œBecause Owen’s easiest play here is to offer up a sacrificial lamb.”
    â€œBaaaaa.”
    â€œExactly. So we’ll remove temptation. Make him do it the hard way.”
    Chris slumped against the