The It Couple
Chapter Seven
"So, like I said, Ms. Paulson, I'm really terribly sorry about the mixup. It was entirely on my end," Kagome lied. No use in De La Renta being hesitant to dress Kikyou again because of a last-minute snub.
"Yes, of course," she continued, awkwardly tucking her hair back like she always did when put on the spot like this, "We're absolutely interested in reserving the dress for future events. We have several things over the next month we'll want it for. You can just send the dress without alterations; we'll take care of the rest on our end. Thank you so much, Ms. Paulson, you've been a saint."
As she hung up, Kagome felt the beginnings of a terrible migraine coming on. Great. She massaged her temples gently and closed her eyes for a few moments.
And of course, there went her phone again. Kagome couldn't help an audible groan as she picked it up.
It was Inuyasha.
"Hello?"
"Hey Kagome, it's me."
She fought the urge to smile too wide. "Yeah, I know. What's up?"
"Is Kikyou there?"
"...Yes?"
"Can I...can I talk to her?"
"Why didn't you just call her phone?" Kagome began tapping her pen on the table distractedly.
"She called the house and didn't leave a return number. I guess she changed it after we-"
"She did. Honestly, though, she just asked me to talk to you. She wants the two of you to meet up before the premiere on Friday. Somewhere secret."
"Secret where?" It was funny, she thought, how the mention of her sister could send a three-time People Magazine's Sexiest Man in the World into a stammering fit. "The second I go near your house I'll have the paps all over me."
"Well, I was thinking about that. I'll drive her to MacArthur Park and you can meet us there. You can both stay in the car so no one spots you and I'll wait on a bench a few feet away. Obviously you have a lot you need to talk about."
"Kagome-"
"Don't worry about it," Kagome forced a smile onto her face, hoping somehow that it would translate through the phone, "I'm always happy to help you out. Shall we say tonight, after closing? 9 pm?"
"9 pm."
"Great!" she said, her voice chipper, "See you tonight. I'll bring the queen, you bring yourself."
Yes, she thought as she hung up the phone, she was definitely getting a migraine. And heartburn. And possibly a fever. She buried her face in her hands and sighed. I'm a great assistant, I'm a great assistant, I'm a great assistant.
Sango was multitasking as only she could, on the phone with one contact while taking notes about another.
She sat at the desk in her new office, the desk Miroku had been sitting at for years before her. Her long legs, resting on the desktop, were clad in a pair of very smart jeans that she'd kicked herself for buying at first because of the price. But hell, it was her second week making a six-figure salary, so she'd convinced herself to indulge.
"Not a bad look for you," a voice said behind her, and Sango tossed her head over her shoulder to look, her ponytail swinging like a pendulum.
Miroku was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a sly smile on his face as usual.
"What are you doing here?" Sango said, raising an eyebrow, her hand over the phone receiver.
"Stopped by to see you," Miroku said, "Do I really need an excuse?"
How was this idiot so fucking charming all the time? It really boiled her blood and made her feel like the nervous, quiet intern again. She quickly ended her phone call with an "I'll call you back," and turned to face him.
"How did you get past security?" she asked suspiciously, folding her arms across her chest.
"Sango, dear, it's me," he said, walking past her and making himself comfortable in one of the leather-bound chairs near the window.
"Mr. Warner's on his way here," Sango said quickly, trying to reassert herself, "and if he finds you here he's going to freak out. You need to leave."
"Warner's in China for negotations on a merger," Miroku said, leaning back comfortably, hands behind his head, "Don't try to con a con man, babe."
Okay, now she was actually getting mad. "What do you want?" she snapped, "I have work to do, you know. I don't just get to lounge around and wait on a single client; I'm responsible for over seventy events just in the next few months."
"Don't I remember," Miroku said with a grin, "but honestly, I just came here to let you know that your little plan is starting to come to life. We've got Inuyasha and Kikyou meeting tonight in MacArthur Park, secretly. I just got off the phone with Inuyasha and he was a nervous wreck. Kind of adorable, actually."
"You're kidding!" Sango's annoyance was forgotten and she clapped her hands to her face in glee.
"Yeah, so I was making sure you aren't busy tonight. We've got a papparazzi call to arrange."
"Houshi," Sango said, her smile wide, "you're a genius."
Miroku's eyes widened slightly. Sango swore for a second he was blushing. In an instant he had recovered and was the same old Miroku, suave and self-assured.
So he liked being called a genius, did he? Sango filed that away in her mental rolodex for later.
"Call him and tell him I've changed my mind," Kikyou said, tossing the latest blouse at Kagome after deeming it unworthy, "I'm not going."
"You really need to do this, Kikyou," Kagome said, sliding the shirt onto a hanger expertly and tossing it into the closet. It caught on the rack and hung there perfectly. Ten points, she mused.
"Where's that pink Chanel blouse? With the sweetheart neckline?" Kikyou demanded, her attention immediately back to her clothes.
"Should be in there." Kagome flopped back onto her sister's luxurious bed, raising one sock-clad foot into the air and closing her eyes.
"Here it is," Kikyou exclaimed, tossing the hanger to the floor and throwing the shirt on like it wasn't upwards of eight hundred dollars, then tucking it into the cream-colored skirt.
"Looks good," Kagome said from her sideways viewpoint. Kikyou always looked good no matter what she wore.
When Kagome had been younger, she remembered looking in magazines at fashion models and wondering how they made beauty look so effortless. She hadn't realized at the time that in a few years her own sister would become one of these women-the ones who always looked like a goddess whether in jeans or an evening gown.
Kikyou, for her part, looked herself up and down in the full-length antique mirror, frowned, and said, "I'm not going. Call him and tell him I'm sick, Kagome."
"I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to lie for you. Not to him." The pomeranian had jumped onto the bed beside her, and Kagome gladly picked him up and placed him onto her stomach.
Kikyou heaved a great and dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have him on my side just a little through all this. Keep him from running his mouth to the press at any point. Ugh, it's just so hard being someone that people just can't get over." She spritzed Chanel No. 5 on her wrists and slid her Louboutins on. "Come on, Kagome, let's get this over with."
Kagome snuggled the pom one last time and rolled up off the bed, following Kikyou out of the room. "And here...we...go," she muttered under her breath.
Miroku was really sick of sitting in these bushes. They could have just called the paps, but no, Sango at her core was still young and green and wanted to "be in on the action." So here he was, with grass creeping into his pants legs and scratchy brambles rubbing the back of his neck.
Not that he was going to complain out loud. Sango just looked so excited. Probably having flashbacks to playing James Bond games as a kid. She sat crouching next to him, her ponytail full of leaves, a pair of binoculars in her hands.
The papparrazo they had hired was in the bush next to them, his camera at the ready. Miroku hadn't caught his name, but he was your typical photo hound - cue ball head, sleazy expression, weird board shorts - and it seemed like he was going to get the job done.
"Remember," Miroku said, "Don't use your flash. Night vision only if you have to, but keep it clear. We want a good shot of them looking comfortable with each other. Smiling, like. If they know we're here, we're all fired."
"Maybe you are," the pap said, "Frankly, if you let me take video this might be a bit more juicy."
"No," Miroku said firmly. He was drawing the line there. Served him right for being close friends with his now only client. Attack of the conscience, even if only partially.
The pap shrugged and returned to prepping his camera.
Sango shifted her weight onto her other leg. Miroku couldn't help but stare; those new jeans of hers were doing her every favor possible.
"Houshi!" she said suddenly, turning to face him and stopping short when they both realized how close their faces were to each other. She cleared her throat and he scooted away ever so slightly.
"Yeah?"
"Should I have told Kagome to park in a spot with better overhead lighting?" Her brow was furrowed in thought and concentration.
"Oh."
"I was just thinking, maybe I could have let her know on the sly that we'd be there for a photo op-"
The spot they had picked wasn't lit the best, it was true; just one halogen streetlamp illuminated the area. They had to hope and pray their targets parked in a spot that wasn't pitch black.
"No, no," Miroku said softly, "We don't want to do that. No need to drag poor Kagome into our machinations; she has enough on her plate as it is."
"I don't know," Sango said. There she went again with the damn finger tapping her lips. "Kagome really seems like someone who'll do bat for us if push comes to shove. She's very committed to her sister's career and to getting her back in the spotlight."
"Oh, she is, no question," Miroku said, laying a hand gently on Sango's shoulder with a slight smile, "but she could end up hindering our plans more than helping. Just trust me on this. We need her, but we don't want her involved too closely, at least not during Oscar season."
Sango looked at him, clearly a little puzzled, but her questioning look was broken by the sight of lights pulling up to the clearing. "Shh!" she said, grabbing Miroku's sleeve and tugging.
Miroku peered through the branches, trying to get a good look.
It was Inuyasha's Lexus LS600H, what he called his "incognito car." Leave it to him to be incognito in a car upwards of a hundred grand, but then again, it was Los Angeles, wasn't it?
The car pulled to a stop (bless him, he parked under the light) and turned off its engine. Inuyasha got out, wearing a simple dark button-down and jeans and looking a little twitchy and disheveled. He was already smoking, Miroku noted. He wondered how many that was since this afternoon.
Inuyasha leaned against the side of the car, dragging on his cigarette and staring straight ahead with folded arms. He checked his Rolex once, twice, and then stood to pace back and forth.
Miroku felt for the guy. Inuyasha hadn't seen Kikyou in 6 months, and of course Miroku hadn't helped the matter by lying to him about Kikyou's intentions.
A few moments later, there was another flash of headlights, and a black Porsche Cayenne rolled up next to the Lexus. The driver side door opened, and out stepped Kagome, wearing some comfortable-looking leggings and a tee shirt, her hair bound in a long, loose black braid that draped over one shoulder.
She walked up to Inuyasha with a genuine smile on her face. From where he was sitting, Miroku could watch them hug in greeting, then stand there close to each other while Inuyasha spoke to her animatedly. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were very glad to see each other, as usual.
Miroku glanced toward the Porsche; it was Kagome's, normally, so the windows weren't tinted beyond belief like they usually would be. He could just barely make out Kikyou sitting in the passenger seat, tilting her chin toward her sister and her ex-fiance outside, clearly trying to hear what they were saying.
"Come on," the papparazzo grumbled, holding the camera aloft, "move it along. We're not here to see you, kid sister."
Sango looked past Miroku at the pap, then back at Miroku, her face a little annoyed. Miroku gave her a look that said, Leave it. All paps are assholes.
As if on cue, there was a honk from the Porsche that made both Inuyasha and Kagome jump a little, stunned out of their conversation. They slowly turned around. Kikyou was sitting inside the car, hands thrown up in a gesture of frustration and impatience.
Inuyasha turned back to Kagome for a brief moment, and she smiled warmly and patted his shoulder, then sent him on his way toward the Porsche.
"Okay, okay, here we go," Miroku said urgently, "Get ready."
Inuyasha put his hand on the door handle, took a deep breath, and slid into the driver's seat.
"Hello, Kikyou."
She turned to him, her face just as beautiful as he remembered it.
"Hello, Inuyasha."
I know, I know, I am cruel. (Also if the song MacArthur Park isn't stuck in your head by the end of this chapter you are luckier than I am, meaning you can handle it.) But hey, knowing my schedule the next one will be out rather promptly! Here's to you guys and your wonderful reviews. Thanks so much! - meggz0rz