I have dish! Word in the Hollywood jungle is that Harper Kennedy has abandoned ship and left the domestic nest she shared with Brett Kennedy, a.k.a., the nanny screwer.
I don’t blame her for a hot second, either.
My dog walker’s sister’s boyfriend’s chiropractor saw Brett and Justine (that’shername) out at Pink Wiener on Sunset having lunch.
Not only should Helio-humper not be dining at such a suggestively named restaurant given his recent exploits, but he should be lying low in hopes that his lovely wife will see her way clear to taking him back.
Harper, you deserve better!
Dish,
Ferris Biltmore
* * *
Gamble looks exactly like it did on the internet—postcard perfect in its wild beauty. The sky is such an intense blue, it’s like someone painted it that color. But it’sreally just that blue, and there’s something about standing under it that makes me feel like anything is possible. How fanciful is that?
I turn on my phone while Digger takes our luggage off the plane. Part of the reason for getting away was so that I didn’t have to pay attention to the constant stream of messages being sent from my agent, manager, and all the people who pretend to be my friends but are really only looking for the inside scoop.
Gossip is currency in the lives of the Hollywood elite. If you have the latest dish, then you get to wear the crown until the next scandal dethrones you. I’m not interested in feeding the beast.
I check to see who sent the messages before deciding if I want to read them. I click on the last one that came in. It’s from Prisha.
Girl, we got you to the airport just in time. Lady Gaga was flying out right after you and she was being trailed by a whole parade of paparazzi. Don’t bother messaging until you get settled. I just wanted you to know that I love you and I’ll take care of everything on this end. Get some rest.
“Ahem.” Digger clears his throat right next to me. “If you’re done checking your phone, I can show you to your cabin.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, he just starts walking toward a golf cart at the end of the dock.
“Can I drive?” Liam calls excitedly while running after him.
Digger turns around. “How old are you?”
“He’s only eight,” Lily answers before her brother can.
“Yeah, but we have a golf cart at home and Mom lets me drive it. I’m a good driver.” It’s important to Liam for adults to see him as responsible. It’s like the kid came into this life in the body of a baby, but his mind was already thirty.
“If you’re allowed to drive in LA, who am I to say you’re too young to drive here?”
“Seriously?” To say my son is shocked would be a massive understatement.
Digger shoots me a quick glance. “If it’s okay with your mom.”
“Fine by me,” I say.
“But Moooooom.” My daughter’s whining is a clear sign she feels like she’s being left out of something cool.
Before I can find a way to make it up to her, Digger says, “It’s a good thing you’re four.”
“Why?” she wants to know.
“Because I don’t carry kids on my shoulder after that age. There’s a lot of walking to do here and it’s nice to have a ride.”
“Hear that, Liam? Digger’s gonna carry me and you have to walk. What do you think about that?”
Liam ignores her and runs straight for the driver’s side on the cart. Once our luggage is loaded in the back he asks Digger, “Which way?”
“Follow the signs marked Guest Cottages. And watch out for grizzly bears.”
Lily lets out a shriek while Liam says, “Cool!”