"I think we're the same size, you're just a little taller—and possibly thinner." Rita walked into her closet, flipping through rows of dresses for all occasions. Izzy had never seen so many clothes in her life. "And your coloring is similar to mine, so this should work."

"Really, Rita, you don't have to do this, I could stay here tonight. I don't want to intrude on your plans. Are you truly okay with me being here? I know it was a surprise."

Rita pulled her head out from in between the clothes to eye her. Since they'd last met, she'd cropped her hair short. It was perfectly curled, coiffed at her ears, giving her a mature look. "Don't be silly. I'm elated to have a friend to go with. I've only been here for a few short weeks myself. As far as the women at these parties are concerned, I'm an outsider. They know the ins and outs of Hollywood. In some ways, it's worse than fitting in in high school."

She carried out a glossy sapphire evening gown with a low dipped neck. "This will look lovely on you. It'll accent your collar bones."

"Oh my!" Izzy held the dress up to get a better look at it. "But, Rita, I've never been to anything like this before. I've lead a pretty boring life, come to think of it—at least up until recently. I wouldn't even know how to act or what to say. What do you say to a movie star?"

"First off, you compliment them on their work. I forced myself to memorize the starring roles of some of the actresses after my first Hollywood party with Warren. They were a little put off by my ignorance, I think. But, don't worry, most of their conversations are just superficial. These parties are all an act. Sort of an obligation. The more they mingle and get on each other's good sides, the better chance they have at getting a part in the next big film."

Izzy blinked. "How do you know all this?"

Rita pulled out a dark green gown with a low back for herself. "Warren's a film producer. He's done some great motion pictures. Remember Girl in the Clouds?"

"Oh yes! That was a good one! I saw it at the drive in last year." With Donny. She pushed that out of her mind. "Gosh, Rita. Your life is so exciting. It's strange, I feel as if I know you so well, but I really know nothing about you. Has your life always been this exciting, or did Warren introduce you to it?"

"My father's a senator. He has a lot of friends all over the place, friends with a whole lot of money." said Rita. "And my mother has family here in the hills. But, I've lived in Michigan my entire life. I've only visited here. And I've definitely never rubbed elbows with movie stars until I came here to live with Warren. It'll take some getting used to." She pushed Izzy towards the bathroom. "Come and try your dress on."

Izzy slipped into the dress in Rita's bathroom, wondering how Rita managed to keep it all together. Deep down she'd hoped to find Rita struggling with the same emotions she'd been plagued with since leaving the Saint Mary's Home for Unwed Mothers. But instead, she seemed so happy and confident—nothing like the girl she'd been when she'd seen her last.

She studied herself in the mirror. The dress did show off her collar bones and hugged all the right places. She'd never worn a dress so delicately made. The fabric was so sheer and soft—it must have cost a fortune.

"How does it look, Izzy? Come out and let me see," Rita called from the other side of the door.

She stepped out, spinning around.

Rita put her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, you look fabulous." She unclasped a diamond studded sapphire necklace from its stand on the counter. "This goes with that dress." She stepped behind Izzy to clasp it around her neck.

Rita's dress was flattering as well, wrapped around her thin figure. A string of pearls across her neck accented it. She smiled at Izzy. "We've come a long way from those awful grey dresses haven't we?"

"Yes, we have. I swear I'll never wear grey again."

A sharp knock on the door caused them both to jump.

"Are you ladies ready?" Warren called. "May I come in?"

"Yes," said Rita. "We just need to do our hair."

He strolled in, his black suit perfectly fit to his sculpted body. His mere presence, something about the way he stood, exuded authority. His steely eyes fell over the two of them. Izzy blushed, instinctively covering her chest when his gaze lingered there.

"My, my. I'm a lucky man." He kissed Rita's forehead. "How much longer will it be?" His hand ran under her chin, lifting it.

"Only a few minutes," said Rita with a smile, kissing him.

"Don't make me wait too long."

"I won't."

Both women giggled when he left the room.

"You should wear your hair down with this dress," said Rita. "Let me curl it. It won't take long."

She unpinned Izzy's hair and let it fall over her shoulders. Izzy looked on in the mirror. Something about Rita's expression prompted her next question.

"Do you love him?"

Rita twisted the curler in her hair, stopping for a second after her question.

Izzy sputtered, "Oh my gosh, that was rude. I don't why I asked that."

"Well, of course I love him, silly," laughed Rita, continuing to curl her hair. "I wouldn't be marrying him if I didn't."

Izzy studied her face in the mirror. "I guess I'm just not sure whether I really know what love is, or that I'll ever get the courage to find out. What did it take for you to get over—well—everything?"

Rita set the curling iron down on the counter. "Finished! You look gorgeous. Let's not dwell on the past, okay? Let's have some fun tonight."

Warren was waiting for them outside, leaning against a shiny baby blue Roadmaster he'd pulled out of the garage.

"Your carriage awaits," he said, opening the doors for them.

Izzy climbed onto the cool leather in the backseat, feeling like a princess in the fancy new car. But when Warren took off at lightning speed, she was forced to search for something to grab onto.

They barreled down side roads and squealed around corners while Izzy grasped onto the door for dear life. Finally they came to a long, winding driveway. It was just reaching dusk. The drive was lined with hanging lanterns every few feet, giving it a romantic feel. Warren pulled to a stop at an expansive gate. An older man greeted him, tipping his hat as he pressed a button. In front of them, the gates swung open.

They rode for a ways, passing by bushes sculpted in squares and spheres that created elaborate designs. A huge Italian style mansion appeared at the end of the road. Another younger man raced out and took the keys from Warren to park the car.

"Whose house is this?" Izzy whispered to Rita when they'd gotten out. "Gosh, it's huge."

"It's Ralph Nelson's. He's the biggest producer in Hollywood."

"The biggest producer, right now." Warren grabbed Rita's hand, flipping his suit coat over his shoulder. "Come on ladies, we're already late."

Izzy followed beside them, staring with wide eyes at the massive home. When they reached the door, her stomach fluttered and reality set in. Despite the beautiful dress and jewelry, she clearly didn't fit into Rita's life.

She felt like an imposter. Plus, all of the days of travel were starting to take their toll on her. She wished she would have convinced Rita to leave her behind.

Lurking in the back of her mind was the fact that she hadn't called her parents. Guilt was setting in. They must be worried about her by now.

The door swung open and a beautiful blonde in her early thirties stepped out, a long cigarette between her slender fingers. "Well, there you are Warren, dear!" Her eyes swept over Rita and Izzy. "And this is?"

"Rita, my fiancé and her good friend Izzy." He gestured to the blonde. "Ladies, this is Mrs. Nelson."

The blonde smirked. "So formal! I'm Lucy. Warren, you old dog. You finally decided to settle down. I didn't believe it when I heard." Her smile seemed fake as she turned to Rita. "Congratulations, my dear. My—you are young and sweet, aren't you?"

Izzy and Rita exchanges glances.

Warren cleared his throat. "May we come in?"

"But, of course." She stepped aside.

Izzy's heels clicked on the polished floor. Each bronze tile had its own intricate design.The foyer was at least three stories high, with spiraling stairs on either side.

"Oh hey Warren—err—Mr. Stone. You came." A skinny young man rushed out to greet them. "Your actually here, that's great." He stepped back to look at Warren, a worshiping expression on his face. When Warren didn't respond, he continued. "Let me take your coat and hat. I'll hang it up for you. Do you remember me? The name's Roy Wilson—the guy who played old Martha's grandson in Three Rivers—."

"Where's your manners, boy," Warren huffed, looking irritated. "Don't you see these two ladies standing here?"

The young man frowned, seeming hurt. "Oh, yeah. Sorry ladies. Nice to meet you both. Could I get something for you?"

"Nice to meet you too. And no, we're just fine," said Izzy, feeling bad for him.

Warren dumped his coat and hat in his arms, then turned and strolled away before the poor man could talk to him again.

Most of the party seemed to be taking place outside in the courtyard. At least fifty men and women milled about the ten acre backyard paradise, sipping on martinis and conversing with each other.

Her head turned to the sound of an orchestra playing and the lulling voice of a woman. On a small stage near the pool, a stunning blonde belted out a song Izzy had heard on the radio.

"That's Patsy Carmody." Rita grabbed her arm with excitement. "She used to sing with her sisters, but she left them after her solo record. I heard that her producer told her she needed to drop them if she wanted to be a star."

"Must've been a really hard decision to make." Izzy watched the woman sway on stage, caressing the microphone as she sang. Her red gown sparkled in the lights surrounding the stage.

"Not for her," said Warren behind them. He handed them each a long stemmed glass of champagne. "Will you two ladies be alright without me? I need to take care of some business."

"Yes, of course." Rita pecked him on the cheek.

Izzy twisted the glass in her hand. She'd never had alcohol before. Feeling devious, she took a sip of her champagne, trying not to think about what her mother would say. "So what does one do at a Hollywood party?"

Two women walked passed them, exchanging glances. One said something to the other that Izzy couldn't catch and they both burst out laughing. She felt it ironic that hundreds of miles away from home she still felt scrutinized. That was ridiculous, of course. No one knew anything about her.

"Life keeps on repeating itself, doesn't it?" She gave Rita solemn look.

"Don't pay them any mind. They're only jealous that we're here with the great Warren Stone."

"He is quite revered." Izzy wondered if the poor young man had managed to find Warren again.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." Patsy's voice echoed from the stage, causing both their heads to turn. Her voice was both seductive and refined at the same time. "I hope you're all enjoying the party. Right now I have a special treat for you. My fiancé, Wes, and the Flames."

Izzy caught her breath. It seemed every woman in the vicinity let out an elated sigh, heads turning towards the stage.

Then—like an apparition—he was there. Center stage, holding his guitar, as handsome as she'd maintained him in her dreams.

"Izzy?" Rita reached out a hand to straighten her glass, which had tilted—champagne spilling to the floor.

Izzy jumped. "Oh—sorry."

"He tends to have that effect on women." Rita said with a smile, pulling a handkerchief out of her clutch to wipe a few stray drips from Izzy's dress.

"No—it's not that." Izzy struggled, unable to take her eyes off of him. Did she just say Fiancé?

Rita giggled. "It's not?"

"No—I've met him before." She turned to Rita, eyes wide. "It was on the island. Do you remember when we snuck out to the beach and Gloria—well I got sucked out into the current—."

Rita checked to make sure no one was within earshot. "Yes, you gave us quite a scare."

"Well—you aren't going to believe this—But it was him who pulled me out. He was there with his band, visiting their manager—."

Now Rita's eyes grew wide. "He doesn't know, does he? Oh, Izzy—he doesn't, right? No one can know how we know each other, it would ruin everything if Warren found out."

"No. No—he doesn't know. I kept it a secret. Told him I lived on the island. I never dreamed I'd see him again."

He commanded the stage with an aura of confidence—maybe even arrogance—every move he made calculated and electrifying. As he strummed his guitar his head flew back, his hair falling over his eyes and nearly all of the women watching swooned. Then he grabbed the mic and his silky voice brought them all closer to the stage. Izzy found herself stepping forward as well.

Hi everyone! Wes and Izzy meet again! Well...sort of. But, Wes is engaged to Patty. What do you think of Rita and Warren? I'd love to read your comments on the story so far. Anybody here not read the first story, Unwed?