Flipping His Script: A Loathing to Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  I took another glance around, wondering if I was due for another ambush. Already, I was regretting coming here at all, which totally sucked because, like too many other times over the past week, this had almost felt like an actual date.

  Pathetic, I know.

  Probably, I should've insisted on going to the steakhouse instead. I wasn't a huge steak fan, but they did have those giant booths, the ones you could get lost in – or more accurately, hide in.

  But instead, here we were, smack dab in the middle of the restaurant, at a table where everyone could see us. Even now, I could feel the stares burning into the back of my head, the side of my face, and even my legs, which felt way too twitchy under the table.

  Damn it. Maybe I was the one all over the place.

  It was official. Flynn had made me crazy.

  His voice, surprisingly tender, interrupted my thoughts. "Anna."

  I almost jumped in my seat. "What?"

  "Tell me."

  "Tell you what?"

  "What's wrong?"

  "Me?" I tried to laugh. "Nothing. What's wrong with you?"

  His mouth tightened. "Trust me. You don't wanna know."

  Now that made me pause. "Yes, I do."

  He looked at me for a long moment before saying, "All right. The thing is, this arrangement, it didn't work out the way I thought."

  I tensed. And there it was, the ambush I'd been waiting for.

  Funny, I'd been expecting the usual kind of ambush, where a reporter accosted me in the ladies' room. But instead, I was getting something else entirely.

  Still, I tried to look on the upside. At least he was being nice about it.

  With a lame attempt at a smile, I replied, "Yeah. I know."

  He didn't smile back. "No. You don't."

  He was wrong. I got it. Really, I did. I held up a hand. "Look, I don't need an explanation, okay? I know that last night wasn't—"

  "Forget last night."

  I tried to laugh. "If only I could."

  "All right, don't forget. But like I said, I owe you, not the other way around."

  With our history?

  Not hardly.

  I replied, "Well, you are paying me, so…"

  "That doesn't count."

  He was wrong. It counted plenty. Over the last few months, I'd paid off a whole slew of bills, including Becka's tuition for the upcoming year. As far as my own tuition, well, that would have to come later, assuming I returned to college at all.

  I tried to smile. "So this is it, huh?"

  He frowned. "It? What do you mean?"

  Just then, the waiter came to take our orders. Suddenly, I wasn't terribly hungry. But not wishing to be rude, I ordered pasta primavera and vowed to choke it down regardless of how I felt.

  But first, I definitely needed a time out.

  The waiter had barely left when I pushed back my chair and stood. "I'll be back in a minute."

  Flynn stood. "You okay?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

  It was a lie, of course. Physically, yeah, I was fine enough. But emotionally? Well, let's just say that I needed a moment alone to make sure that I didn't make an utter fool of myself.

  My plan was simple. I'd duck into a stall, catch my breath, and emerge ready to deal with whatever came next.

  It was such a nice thought.

  Too bad it netted such a nasty surprise.

  Chapter 80

  Flynn

  When she left the table, I wanted to kick myself.

  I was screwing this up, bigtime.

  I should've taken her someplace more private, someplace where we could really talk, someplace where she wouldn't be looking over her shoulder or waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  But I'd picked this place on purpose. It was the nicest place I could think of, and we hadn't been here before.

  If we wanted a fresh start, this would be a good place to get it – or so I'd figured.

  Apparently, I'd figured wrong.

  When several minutes passed without Anna returning, I turned and looked toward the restrooms. From here, I couldn't see them or Anna.

  But I was getting a bad feeling and saw no reason to ignore it. I stood and strode toward the restaurant's lounge area, where the restrooms were located.

  What I saw when I got there made my blood run cold.

  There was line of maybe five or six women outside the door. None of them were Anna. On the door to the restroom was a hand-written sign. Closed for cleaning.

  Fuck.

  I strode past the women and ignored their confusion when I pushed through the door only to see – What the hell? – Anna, cowering near a stall while two big guys in rumpled business suits loomed over her.

  One of the guys was holding a camera. He was flashing it in her face while she held up a hand as if to ward off the light.

  Working hard to keep my cool, I said, "Unless you want that camera shoved up your ass, you'll drop it."

  In unison, all three of them turned to look. None of them looked happy to see me, not even Anna, whose face was too pale for my liking.

  She was scared.

  Of me? Or the guys?

  I didn't know, but first things first.

  When the guy with the camera didn't drop it, I strode forward and ripped it from his hands, tossing it aside while he and his buddy scrambled into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut behind them.

  Idiots.

  Like that chicken-shit door could stop me.

  No. The only thing stopping me now from ripping that door off its hinges was the look on Anna's face. She looked ready to cry, and it hurt like hell to see it.

  I moved closer. "You okay?"

  She blinked. "Yeah, sure."

  I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss the worry away. But I didn't have that right, not yet. And first, there was something I had to do. I flicked my head toward the main restroom door. "You go on. I'll meet you at the table, all right?"

  She frowned. "Aren't you coming, too?"

  "In a minute."

  "Why? What are you gonna do?"

  I glanced toward the stall, and my jaw clenched. "Me? I'm gonna have a talk with your friends."

  "But they're not my friends," she said. "I don't even know them."

  "I know. But I’m gonna talk with them just the same."

  From the look on Anna's face she knew damn well that the talk wouldn't be a friendly one. But what did she think? That I'd just let it go?

  No fucking way.

  I studied her face. "Tell me. Did they hurt you?"

  "No. Of course not." She bit her lip. "And just so you know, I’m not leaving until you do."

  It wasn't what I wanted to hear. "And why's that?"

  "Because you've got that look."

  "What look?"

  "That lopping look."

  It took me a moment to realize that she was talking about the character I played in the movies. Yeah, that guy was famous for separating heads from their bodies, but this wasn't a movie – even if I was seriously pissed.

  And besides, it's not like I had my sword.

  I told her, "I'm not 'lopping' anything."

  Her gaze narrowed. "But you want to."

  She was right. I did. And with good reason. What kind of assholes were these guys? Anna had been alone. And they'd cornered her in the women's room for Christ's sake.

  Fuckers.

  I told her, "All right, wait if you want, but you're not dragging me off."

  She scoffed, "As if I could."

  Got that right.

  I turned to face the stall. Sooner or later, they'd have to come out. And if they didn't within two minutes, well, I'd be buying the restaurant a new stall door. Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time.

  I'd been waiting maybe thirty seconds when one of the guys yelled, "What the hell are you doing?"

  I crossed my arms. "Waiting."

  "For what?"

  I smiled. "Guess."

  No guess came. From inside the sta
ll, his friend whispered, "I thought you said it was cool."

  "It was cool," the first guy replied. "I mean, I put up a sign."

  "Yeah. And he ignored it. I told you he's fucking crazy."

  They had no idea.

  The same guy continued, "If you ask me, your sign sucked. Dumb-ass."

  The way I saw it, they were both dumb-asses.

  I was still staring at the door when Anna edged closer to me and whispered, "Let's just leave, okay?"

  I turned and gave her a long, serious look. "Forget it."

  "But why?"

  "Because I'm not done."

  "With what?" she asked.

  "Them."

  Anna gave the door a nervous glance. "What are you gonna do?"

  "Hard to say." I looked toward the camera, lying in pieces a few feet away. "I could still shove it up his ass."

  Anna wasn't buying it. After arguing the point, she turned toward the stall and called out, "If you apologize, maybe he'll just let it go."

  I gave a low scoff. Fat chance.

  The reporter hollered, "I heard that!"

  Anna gave the stall a nervous smile. "Heard what?"

  "That scoffing sound."

  "Yeah," the other guy said. "As soon as we come out, he's gonna kick our asses."

  And if they didn't come out, I'd still be kicking their asses. It was just a matter of location, that's all.

  With a sigh, Anna asked the guys, "Who do you work for, anyway?"

  After a long moment, one of them replied, "No one."

  She frowned. "So what are you? Freelance or something?"

  "No." The guy cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, gonna start a blog."

  Oh, for fuck's sake.

  So they accosted Anna in the women's room for a blog they didn't even have? Assholes.

  The second guy called out, "And you owe my uncle a new camera."

  I'd give his uncle something, all right.

  Anna turned and gave the camera a long worried look before turning back to the stall. "So, Camera Guy, who do you work for?"

  "Myself."

  Anna shook her head. "So, are you gonna start a blog, too?"

  "I might," he mumbled.

  The other guy protested, "But you can't!"

  "Wanna bet?"

  "But you're gonna work for me, remember?"

  "Yeah, well…" The guy with the uncle hesitated. "…that was before you got him all pissed off."

  Yeah. I was pissed off. And soon, they'd discover how much.

  If they were smart, they'd come out and get their ass-beatings over with. It's not like I was gonna kill them, this time.

  Anna turned to me and said, "C'mon, let's just leave, okay?" She tried to smile. "No harm, no foul, right?"

  I saw nothing to smile about. "Wrong."

  "But why?"

  "You've gotta ask?"

  "Yes. I do." She crossed her arms. "Because it just seems to me that you're blowing this way out of proportion."

  From the inside stall, one of the guys called out, "Yeah! And just so you know, she wouldn't tell us dick."

  Anna turned and hollered back, "You're not helping!" Turning back to me, she said, "Remember that favor?"

  I didn't like where this was going. "What favor?"

  "The one from yesterday. You said you'd owe me, remember?"

  Damn it. In a careful voice, I said, "I remember."

  "Well…" She hesitated. "This is the favor." She pointed toward the stall. "Let them go."

  No fucking way.

  "And," she added, "pay for his camera too, okay?"

  I didn't care about the money. But I did care about the girl in front of me. That camera had been used as a weapon. Against her.

  I had to say it. "Fuck the camera."

  Anna turned to study the camera before giving me a pleading look. "But it's his uncle's."

  I didn't give two shits about the guy or his uncle. "Not my problem."

  Her eyes narrowed. "So what are you saying? That you're not going to pay up?"

  I gave Anna a long, silent look. With the way I felt, I'd do just about anything to make her happy. But the rules were different when it came to her safety.

  The way I saw it, the guys were already getting off light.

  Anna paused as if thinking. But then, as if reading from a script, she announced in an overly loud voice, "If you really love me, you'll let them go."

  As far as delivery, it wasn't so great.

  Anna was no actress, but she was cute as hell, even as she tried to be something she wasn't. And that word – love – hit me harder than she knew. For years, I'd avoided the word and the concept.

  Until Anna, this had been easy enough. But now? Not so much.

  As far as the two guys, the way it looked, she wasn't giving in.

  This meant it had to be me. This time.

  In the end, I gave her the camera money in cash, which she wrapped in a paper towel and slid under the stall.

  Afterward, I grudgingly stepped back and let the guys make for the door, even I wasn't happy about it.

  After they left, I told Anna, "You're too nice. You know that, right?"

  For someone who'd just gotten her way, she looked nearly as irritated as I felt. She muttered, "Well, that's rich."

  "Meaning?"

  She glanced away. "Nothing."

  "No," I said. "Tell me."

  When she made no reply, I crossed my arms and waited. Yeah, I knew that people were outside waiting. And I knew this wasn't the best place for whatever she was going to say. But I also knew that if I didn't get it out of her now, she might clam up later on.

  I wasn't going to let that happen.

  Finally, she sighed. "I'm just saying, for weeks – no, years – you've been acting like I’m some sort of monster. And now you're telling me that I’m 'too nice'?"

  She was right. And the monster was me. But unlike the idiots we'd just sent packing, I was planning to make it up to her.

  If she gave me the chance.

  I was just about to tell her so when a noise from one of the stalls made me stop short. I turned to look.

  Anna said, "Well? Aren't you gonna say anything?"

  I was still focused on the stalls. "No."

  "But—"

  I held up a hand. "Not now."

  "What do you mean, 'not now'?"

  I meant, not in front of an audience. But hey, I could take care of that easy enough.

  I moved toward the stalls and began checking them one by one. When I pushed the door of the final stall, it didn't budge.

  Locked.

  But not for long. I stepped back and gave the door a good kick. The door flew open, revealing another guy in a rumpled suit. He was standing on the toilet – one foot on each side of its seat – and he was holding out his cellphone like a camera.

  To catch what? Pictures? Audio? Video?

  Not if I could help it.

  I reached in and yanked him out of the stall. The guy's phone clattered to the floor as I slammed him up against the neighboring wall and said, "What the fuck were you doing?"

  "I, um…" He swallowed, hard. "Nothing."

  Nothing, my ass.

  Anna rushed toward us, saying, "Let him go, okay?"

  Slowly, and without letting go, I turned to look at her. Through gritted teeth, I said, "What?"

  "Let him go," she repeated.

  She had to be fucking kidding me.

  Anna gave me a shaky smile. "I mean, he was probably with the other guys, so…" Her words trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  I gave her a look. "So…?"

  She cleared her throat. "So….He's part of the deal, right? I mean our deal, where you agreed to let them go."

  The deal was getting shittier by the second. But this was Anna – the one person I had a hard time saying no to. And I owed her more than she realized.

  But didn’t she get it?

  She'd been the target.

  Of him.

  I mean, wha
t kind of twisted freak hangs out in the women's room to snag pictures of my girl?

  Oh yeah. Anna was my girl, whether she knew it or not.

  She looked to the guy and asked, "Why on Earth didn't you leave with your friends?"

  I said, "'Cause he's a dumb-ass, that's why."

  Anna made a sound of frustration. "I asked him, not you."

  I flicked my head toward the guy's cellphone, still lying on the floor. "Check it."

  "But if you let go of him," she said, "you could check it."

  Nice try. I smiled. "Or, I could shove it up his ass."

  In the end, she picked up the phone and scrolled through its contents, deleting as she went. When she finished, she shoved the phone into the guy's nearest hand and told him, "Don't do that again, okay?"

  When he gave a jerky nod, Anna looked to me and said, "You can let go now."

  With a low curse, I did as she asked and then watched as he bolted for the restroom's main door and didn't look back.

  As the door swung shut, I turned to Anna and said, "Tell me something."

  "What?"

  "If we find someone else, is that part of the deal, too?"

  She glanced around as if searching for hidden reporters. Her gaze landed on the oversized trash can, and she wandered over to lift its lid. She leaned over and peered inside before turning back to me and replying, "No."

  She was so cute, I could hardly stand it. "No?"

  "I mean, that's it. So I guess we're even."

  Even?

  Not by a longshot.

  Chapter 81

  Flynn

  Didn't Anna get it? I owed her, not the other way around. I gave her a good, long look. "Even, huh? You sure about that?"

  She winced. "Are you talking about the camera money?"

  No. I wasn't. "Fuck the money."

  "Because if it's such a problem," she said, "I'll pay for it."

  Knowing Anna, she would. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted her.

  She added, "I mean, after we settle up."

  Settle up. Those words were just another reminder that I hadn't yet had the chance to end our agreement – to tell her that I wanted out, and why.

  I moved closer. "You think I give two shits about the money?"

  "Well, you must, since you're acting so crabby about it."

  I didn't want to argue. "I said, 'forget the money.'"

  "That's easy for you to say."

  "Oh yeah? Why?"

  "Because you're richer than Midas. So of course, it's easy for you to forget."