Read Online Dollhouse by and Khloé Kardashian Kim Kourtney - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: and Khloé Kardashian Kim Kourtney
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congratulations! Hey, let me get you a drink. What’s your poison? Wine? Beer? Appletini?”
“An appletini sounds great, thanks.”
Chase put his hand on her elbow and steered her to a nearby booth. The brief contact felt warm. And pleasant. She sat down, and he sat down next to her—not so close as to make her think he was a creeper, but close enough so that she could smell the faint, woodsy aftershave on his skin. Yum. Within seconds, one of the half-naked waitresses appeared and took their order.
“So who are you?” Chase leaned toward Kamille and stared intently into her eyes.
“Oh! I’m sorry! I’m Kamille Romero.”
“Kamille Romero. Are you related to Robbie Romero? Lakers forward?”
“Hmm, not that I know of. But my mom’s Kat Romero, she owns Café Romero on Santa Monica. And my stepdad, well, he doesn’t have the same last name, but he’s Beau LeBlanc, and actually, he used to pitch for—”
“Beau LeBlanc, seriously ?” Chase cut in. “He’s like a legend on our team. Wow, I would love to meet him sometime. How long has he been your stepdad? Is it true he likes to eat steak and mashed potatoes for breakfast?”
Kamille laughed. “Yeah, he’s a freak.”
“No, it obviously works for him. What’s he doing now?”
“He’s like semiretired, semi not. He works part-time as a roving instructor for minor league teams, and as a scout for the majors, too. My mom has her restaurant, so Beau helps out a lot with the house and the dogs and the younger kids in our family. My sister Kyle and my stepbrother, Benjy, they’re sixteen, and my stepsister, Bree, she’s ten.”
The waitress returned, practically brushing her massive, jiggly boobs against Chase’s face as she bent over and set their drinks on the table. To his credit, he never broke eye contact with Kamille. In general, he seemed oblivious to the wave of rabid female attention radiating his way, not just from the slore server girl but from most of the women in the room.
Of course, Kamille was aware that she was similarly the object of much of the male attention in the room. Much of the straight male attention, anyway; the rest of it was going to Chase. Suddenly she realized that the two of them were kind of the “it” couple at this party. Not that they were a couple, but still.
The realization made her feel giddy. And at the same time intensely self-conscious. Like, how obvious was that nasty zit on her forehead? And did she look fat in her new LBD?
She took a sip of her drink. Vodka was an excellent antidote for . . . well, just about anything. “So. How do you like being a baseball player?” she chirped. Okay, so vodka was not an excellent antidote for lame getting-to-know-you questions. She took another, much longer sip.
“I love it. I love pitching. Most days, I feel like the luckiest guy on earth. What about you? How do you like modeling?”
“It’s still so new,” Kamille admitted. “Mostly, it’s kind of amazing. I mean, just this summer, I was waitressing at my mom’s restaurant and wondering what to do with my life. And then I met Giles—he’s my agent—and he got me the Lolita ad. He’s trying to line up more jobs for me, too, like this one with Flower Power jeans. And well, of course, I get to go to lots of fun parties. Like this one.” She finished off the rest of her appletini. “I’ve got to admit, though . . . I was so nervous during the Lolita shoot. Like I didn’t know what I was doing. That’s dumb, right?”
“Nah, I go through that sometimes before a game,” Chase said. “When it happens, I find a quiet corner and pray. It totally works.”
Kamille started. “You . . . pray?”
“Yeah. My faith is pretty important to me. My parents raised me that way. They’re the best.”
“Mine, too!”
“Yeah? I’d love to—oh, excuse me, I gotta get this.” Chase picked up his cell. “Hello? What time’s the flight? Oh, sorry, I lost track of the—yeah, I’ll be right
“An appletini sounds great, thanks.”
Chase put his hand on her elbow and steered her to a nearby booth. The brief contact felt warm. And pleasant. She sat down, and he sat down next to her—not so close as to make her think he was a creeper, but close enough so that she could smell the faint, woodsy aftershave on his skin. Yum. Within seconds, one of the half-naked waitresses appeared and took their order.
“So who are you?” Chase leaned toward Kamille and stared intently into her eyes.
“Oh! I’m sorry! I’m Kamille Romero.”
“Kamille Romero. Are you related to Robbie Romero? Lakers forward?”
“Hmm, not that I know of. But my mom’s Kat Romero, she owns Café Romero on Santa Monica. And my stepdad, well, he doesn’t have the same last name, but he’s Beau LeBlanc, and actually, he used to pitch for—”
“Beau LeBlanc, seriously ?” Chase cut in. “He’s like a legend on our team. Wow, I would love to meet him sometime. How long has he been your stepdad? Is it true he likes to eat steak and mashed potatoes for breakfast?”
Kamille laughed. “Yeah, he’s a freak.”
“No, it obviously works for him. What’s he doing now?”
“He’s like semiretired, semi not. He works part-time as a roving instructor for minor league teams, and as a scout for the majors, too. My mom has her restaurant, so Beau helps out a lot with the house and the dogs and the younger kids in our family. My sister Kyle and my stepbrother, Benjy, they’re sixteen, and my stepsister, Bree, she’s ten.”
The waitress returned, practically brushing her massive, jiggly boobs against Chase’s face as she bent over and set their drinks on the table. To his credit, he never broke eye contact with Kamille. In general, he seemed oblivious to the wave of rabid female attention radiating his way, not just from the slore server girl but from most of the women in the room.
Of course, Kamille was aware that she was similarly the object of much of the male attention in the room. Much of the straight male attention, anyway; the rest of it was going to Chase. Suddenly she realized that the two of them were kind of the “it” couple at this party. Not that they were a couple, but still.
The realization made her feel giddy. And at the same time intensely self-conscious. Like, how obvious was that nasty zit on her forehead? And did she look fat in her new LBD?
She took a sip of her drink. Vodka was an excellent antidote for . . . well, just about anything. “So. How do you like being a baseball player?” she chirped. Okay, so vodka was not an excellent antidote for lame getting-to-know-you questions. She took another, much longer sip.
“I love it. I love pitching. Most days, I feel like the luckiest guy on earth. What about you? How do you like modeling?”
“It’s still so new,” Kamille admitted. “Mostly, it’s kind of amazing. I mean, just this summer, I was waitressing at my mom’s restaurant and wondering what to do with my life. And then I met Giles—he’s my agent—and he got me the Lolita ad. He’s trying to line up more jobs for me, too, like this one with Flower Power jeans. And well, of course, I get to go to lots of fun parties. Like this one.” She finished off the rest of her appletini. “I’ve got to admit, though . . . I was so nervous during the Lolita shoot. Like I didn’t know what I was doing. That’s dumb, right?”
“Nah, I go through that sometimes before a game,” Chase said. “When it happens, I find a quiet corner and pray. It totally works.”
Kamille started. “You . . . pray?”
“Yeah. My faith is pretty important to me. My parents raised me that way. They’re the best.”
“Mine, too!”
“Yeah? I’d love to—oh, excuse me, I gotta get this.” Chase picked up his cell. “Hello? What time’s the flight? Oh, sorry, I lost track of the—yeah, I’ll be right
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