“It’s part of the job, you know.” Pete tipped his head in the direction I was looking. Where Chase just so happened to be . . . along with a redhead who was all legs and tits.
“Sure, it is,” I muttered into my champagne glass. “Putting up with beautiful, wealthy woman who would pretty much do anything to claim a share in the Chase Lawson record book is a real hardship.”
As if able to hear me from way across the room, Chase’s gaze drifted from his present ingénue to land on me. He gave me one of those looks that said a million things with one private exchange. I tipped my glass at him, diverting my attention.
“For some men, fame is a blessing.” Pete hinted at what he was suggesting as he stared at the cluster of woman circling Chase. “For some, it’s a curse.”
“Sell your psychology to someone else, Dr. Pete. I’m not buying any more crazy this lifetime.” I nudged him before turning to leave the room.
“Where are you going?” he asked, on my heels.
“Somewhere you’re not allowed.”
“I go where you go. That’s where I’m allowed.”
Out in the hallway, I clucked my tongue at the women’s restroom door. “No dicks allowed.” Flashing an evil smile, I ducked inside the bathroom before he could argue.
My solitude didn’t last long. A hulking figure shoved through the bathroom door, his expression reading That all you got?
“Excuse me?” Pete’s voice boomed through the women’s bathroom. “Is there anyone else in here?”
I crouched to look under the stalls, praying I’d find a few sets of heels. My luck had always run in short supply.
Pete smirked at me, crossing his arms as he stationed himself at the doorway. He motioned at the line of stalls. “Your move.”
My glare wasn’t very impressive as I stomped into the farthest stall. “This is humiliating, you know that?”
“Your pride is a small price to pay in exchange for your safety.”
A huff of protest bled from my mouth as I wrestled with my dress to get it up and out of the way. With all of the beadwork, by the time I had it gathered far enough above my waist to do my business, I felt like I was clutching twenty pounds in my arms.
“I’ve got stage fright,” I called out after a minute, my heels tapping impatiently.
Pete sighed, his footsteps ringing through the bathroom. The sound of a faucet cranking on followed. “Better?”
I relaxed. Finally. “Thank you.”
“See? Even my pride’s a small price to pay in exchange for your safety,” Pete grumbled.
The door whipped open, followed by a surprised, distinctly female, gasp.
“Excuse me, ma’am. The restroom will be reopened in just a moment.” Pete’s voice was all deep and creamy, just enough authority in it to compel compliance.
When I emerged from the stall, my head shook as I went to wash my hands at the faucet that was still running. “You should get a raise.”
“If you keep proving to be this difficult, I’m going to request one.”
While I deposited my hand towel in the hamper, Pete swung the door open for me. “I’ll ease up. Now that you’ve proven you literally have no boundaries.”
Leaving the women’s restroom, I made sure to smile brightly at the women outside, blinking between Pete and me like we were a hot headline just waiting to happen.
“What do people do for fun at these things?” I blew out a breath when I stepped back into the ballroom, finding it exactly as thrilling as I’d left it. The leggy redhead had been replaced by an exotic-looking brunette with an ass that couldn’t have been crafted without the aid of implants.
“Hell if I know,” Pete grunted.
Doing another scan, this one more inclusive instead of so focused on Chase, I noticed a couple tables tucked toward the back of the room. A group of children and adults I guessed were their parents were seated there. A couple kids were in wheelchairs, a few had prosthetics, and more than seemed fair had the sallow pallor and sunken hollows of what could only be cancer’s ire.
I started in that direction, holding up the next server I passed balancing a tray of desserts on their hand. Not saying a word, I took the tray and proceeded toward the back of the ballroom.
“Who’s hungry for some dessert?” I asked as I held out the tray of treats between the two tables.
The kids didn’t jump at the dessert offer quite like I’d planned. Some of the parents looked between each other.
“That’s a thoughtful gesture,” one of the moms said, pointing at a cart that was rolling closer. From what I could see, it looked like it was an ice cream cart with just about every topping imaginable available. “Mr. Lawson ordered a special dessert just for the kids.”
“Oh.” Glimpsing between my basic dessert options and the Mecca of ice cream sundaes, I accepted that to an eight-year-old, crème brulee sucked compared to a triple waffle cone with gummy worms piled on top. I handed the giant tray to Pete. “Here. Eat something. You’re looking thin.”
He gave his standard head shake, the one that was parental in nature, before passing the tray off to the next server who whisked by.
“You’re Mr. Lawson’s girlfriend.” One of the young girls giggled, pointing at the assortment of toppings she wanted to accompany her bowl of bubblegum ice cream.
“So I’m told.” I smiled, lifting my hand to my mouth as though I were about to disclose a secret. “Which means I can totally round up some autographed souvenirs if anyone’s a Chase Lawson fan here.”
The kids exploded over that, a dozen mouths sputtering on about Chase this and Chase that as though he were the best thing since sour gummies.
“So what should I round up? Shirts? Hats?” I fired a wink. “Both?”
The same mom who’d broke the news to me about the ice cream cart had that same look of discomfort on her face again. I was about to inquire as to why every adult at those two tables looked like they had a bad case of indigestion when one of the boys lifted a large bag.
“Mr. Lawson dropped these souvenir bags off for us earlier,” he said, pulling items out one at a time. “He signed them all too.”
Hats, shirts, sweatshirts, posters . . . a damn blanket. He’d hooked those kids up.
“And we all got a trip to Disneyland with our families from Mr. Lawson too,” another boy blurted before shoving a spoonful of whipped cream and cherries into his mouth.
I made sure my excitement matched theirs. “Disneyland? Lucky!”
“All expenses paid, five star all the way.” One of the moms squeezed my arm. “Please thank him again for us. A trip like that is something our family could never have managed on our own.”
I had to swallow the ball in my throat before I could reply. “I’ll tell him.”
Waving goodbye to everyone, I started to leave, but a small hand slipped into mine. The little girl touching me was beaming up at me, holding out a bowl of chocolate ice cream with just about every topping available. “For you.”
“Now that’s a dessert.” I gave her a side hug after taking the bowl. “Thank you.”
A chorus of goodbyes followed me as I left, Pete settling in beside me.
“Miss North!” a voice chimed from off to the side.
“Journalist. Don’t stop,” Pete instructed under his voice.
When the woman called my name once more, practically barreling in front of my path, I broke to a stop.
Pete gave me a look.
“I can handle it,” I whispered to him.
His look deepened.
“Miss North. Jenny Hutchins, KNBC News.” Her fake smile hiccupped when she noticed the three and a half pounds of dessert I was carrying. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
Pete cleared his throat.
I stood up straighter. “A few.”
“You and Chase go way back,” she started, as though she’d memorized her lines weeks ago.
I remembered what Dani had taught me about interacting with the
media: don’t say the first thing that comes to your mind, and keep your answers as short and vague as possible. “We learned to ride bikes together, so yeah, we’ve known each other for quite a while.”
“You were lovers too?” When I remained quiet, she glanced at me through her reading glasses.
“Boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“What did you think when you heard about the accident?” she asked, gauging my reaction from my eyes to my posture to my hands. “Did he drink a lot back then too?”
Beside me, Pete was clearly growing impatient, but I could handle this. There was no way to avoid the media for the next six months, given who Chase was and the hot topics pinned to him, and tonight was as good a night as any to get my first encounter over with.
“No.” My hands tied together to keep them from fidgeting. “I was surprised.”
“He claims he doesn’t drink anymore.” The reporter glanced at Chase with what looked to be a glass of water or sparkling water in his hand. Then she leaned in, bestowing an ambiguous smile upon me. “But come on, girl to girl, what else is sloshing around in that glass when the camera’s turn off?”
I leaned away, feeling a strong stab of protectiveness for Chase. “Nothing.”
The reporter studied me for a minute, looking for a crack to break. She gave a chuckle as she shrugged. “You’re a good liar,” she said as though she were giving a compliment. “But you have to become one when a loved one has a drinking problem, don’t you?”
Heat flooded my face from this woman and her accusations. She was calling Chase a drunk and me a liar. He might have had drinking issues, but he’d put those behind him. I might have lied for him before, and I would again, but I wasn’t now.
“Those few questions are up.” I pointed my spoon at her before digging it into the melting pile of ice cream and taking a massive bite.
Leaving her, I inspected the room, still unsure where I fit into this foreign puzzle. All I wanted to do was relax in a quiet room and eat my ice cream. I couldn’t take one more stilted conversation or hold the precise angle of a smile for one more minute.
“Ma’am?” Pete’s voice sounded almost uncertain. “Are you okay?”
“Please, for the love of all things good and true, stop calling me ma’am. My name is Emma. Or Em if you’re thinking we’ll be friends after all of this is over.” I waved my finger at Pete as we kept marching out of that ballroom. “And if one more person asks me if I’m okay, I’m going to lose it.”
Pete’s brows pinched together. “So does that mean you are okay or are not okay?” He must have felt my rage, because he quickly added, “Emma? Em.”
I plucked one of the maraschino cherries from the mountain of whipped cream and popped it into my mouth. “It means I am or will soon be okay.”
As I wove down the hallway, something caught my eye. A perfect hiding spot.
The woman working the coatroom gave me a funny look when I dodged inside, but she didn’t put up any protest. I figured as long as I didn’t spill ice cream on the fur coats, she didn’t care how long I hid out. Pete didn’t follow me inside, but I knew he’d perched himself right outside the door. I guessed he figured there were more potential threats lurking in a women’s bathroom than a musty coatroom.
Leaning into a wall, I slithered down to the floor, hearing the seams of my dress stretching. The sturdy stitching might have survived the night thus far, but it would not outlast the ice cream. Or the two dozen toppings piled on top.
Eating my stress away, I finally relaxed now that I’d found a quiet, private space. God, I was bad at this. My first public appearance with Chase and I’d barely made it four hours before breaking down into an exhausted mess.
Names to remember, a thousand cameras, mind-numbing conversations, keeping up airs and personifying perfection . . . this was not the world I’d grown up in, nor the life I wanted.
I’d nearly made it to the bottom of the bowl when I forced myself to set it aside. I’d achieved glutton status ten bites earlier.
“Mind if I hide out in here for a while too?” A familiar figure crept in past the door, sealing it closed behind him.
“I guess I can share my coat closet.” I scooted aside to make room for him.
“I see you found the ice cream cart.” Chase eyed the nearly empty bowl when he came to a stop in front of me.
My arms rung around my stomach. “You’re really sending all of those kids to Disneyland?”
“You gotta spend your money on something, because you can’t take it with you.”
“But you can leave behind a legacy. Have a building named for you. Or a monument.”
His eyes squinted. “Pretty positive those kids are going to enjoy Disneyland infinitely more than anyone who passed by a monument of yours truly.”
My head tipped back to look up at him. “You’re a good person, Chase Lawson.”
His boot tapped my foot. “Picked it up by following someone else’s example.”
A sound of protest rattled in my chest. “I thought I was being all awesome by offering them two-by-two-inch desserts and autographed ball caps. You ordered up the damn ice cream man and an all-expense paid trip to a kid’s paradise.”
“You give what you can with what you’ve got.” Chase’s brow lifted as he quoted one of my mom’s old sayings. “Some of us just have more to give.”
I nodded, glancing at the door. “You want to get out of here?”
“Like . . . leave?”
“Not like it. Exactly like it.” When I started to stand, he held out his hand for me to take. “Let’s leave.”
Chase exhaled as he pulled me up. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can. You’re a grown man.”
“No, Em. I can’t.” His head lowered to align with mine. “I’m the special guest listed for this benefit, which means I can’t just bail because I feel like it.”
“You’ve done your time,” I said, hating the hint of a whine I detected in my voice.
“It’s part of the job.” His thumb wiped the corner of my mouth as he fought a smile. I probably had dried ice cream staining the lower half of my face. “There are parts I don’t like, but that comes with anything. You take the good with the bad. Just make sure the good’s worth it.”
I stared at the racks of coats, feeling embarrassed. I could operate a combine and could fix a fence pole in five minutes flat—I was not the type to retreat when life got hard. “When did you become so responsible?”
“It was more of a byproduct than a choice.” His thumb dragged across my lips before he backed away. “I’ve got a couple more hours to soldier through, but you can head back to the hotel with Pete if you want. Unless you like the company of leather and tweed.” He pinched one of the jackets as he passed, seeming amused by the image of me in my fancy dress, hiding out in a closet full of coats, an abandoned ice cream bowl nearby.
Licking my lips to remove any leftover ice cream bits, I smoothed my dress and slipped back into my heels. “I’ll go with you.”
He blinked as though he’d heard me wrong.
My shoulder lifted. “You’re not the only one who has a job to do. I signed on for a six-month contract, and by god, even if these people suck the will to live right out of me, I’m not disappearing again.”
“Em, you’ve made your appearance, posed for the photos. You can leave. I’m not paying you a million bucks to suffer through every grueling minute of one of these things at my side.”
I stopped in front of him. “Then why are you paying me?”
His expression drew together as he considered how to best put his words.
“Exactly. If you give me free passes to these public things, then the only services you’re paying me for are the ones shared in private. And that makes me feel like some call girl or something dirty like that.”
“If that were true, and I really could just call on you whenever I had an urge . . .” His eyes darkened as they skimmed down me. “Everything I’ve got, it’s all
yours.”
I snapped in front of his face to try to clear the devilish slant of his expression. No dice. “You’d give up everything you own—every car, house, investment, jet, et cetera—for six months of whenever, wherever sex?”
One brow disappeared into his hairline. “However included in that sex clause?”
“Why not.”
Chase followed me as I pushed through the coatroom door. “I would give up everything for one week of that kind of sex with you.”
My back tingled from the way his hand glided around my back, finding its home on the bend of my waist. However, I made sure to give him my most unimpressed look. “So much for that responsibility byproduct we were just talking about.”
“I’m responsible.” He waved at Pete when we steered down the hall, moving toward the ballroom. “But I also happen to know the value of good sex.”
“Something tells me you haven’t been hurting in the sex department.” I eyed the cluster of women inside the ballroom, regarding Chase as though he were a deity they’d willingly sacrifice their firstborn for.
Chase pulled me closer, his face tipping toward mine. “You’re the only good I’ve ever had, Emma North.”
More chills, these kind spilling down my arms as well.
Around the ballroom, I noticed the number of phones and cameras aiming our way, documenting the tarnished golden boy attempting to polish up his reputation with his small-town high school sweetheart.
“Two more hours? You got this?” he asked, giving me a way out.
“You have to take the bad with the good. Just make sure the good’s worth it.”
The corners of his eyes creased. “Does that mean what I think it does?”
“It means I’m still trying to figure it out.”
9
It was the fifth concert in the tour and we were in Charlotte. No, Charleston. I was getting my Carolinas confused, which was a direct result of spending the last day and a half on the road.
Fool Me Once Page 9