“Don’t call me Ms. Schaffer, it’s kind of pervy.”
I laugh. “Answer the question, Mal.” I walk over and stand in front of her. “Have. You. Seen. My. Movies? Simple question.”
“Not the new one,” she says, still refusing to outright admit anything.
“So you have? And what about Malibu? I know you watched season one, but after . . . did you watch the others?”
She looks anywhere but at me.
“Come on, Mal.”
She scrunches her nose, putting a cute-as-hell wrinkle in it. “Okay, fine. I watched them. All seventy-two episodes. Are you happy now?”
She pouts, heading for the door but I grab her hand and pull her back to me, landing her so close, our faces are only inches apart. I get a good whiff of her incredible scent. God, she even smells like a school teacher—fresh and clean and innocent, yet so damn sexy. “What’s the name of your perfume?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s called ‘Desire Me’. Why?”
Of course it is. I repeat it over and over in my head so I don’t forget the name. As if. I’ll need to know it later, for when I send her a gallon of it. “Just curious, that’s all. It’s nice.”
“Thanks, I like it, too. Are you ready to go? I thought you were starving.”
I open the door for her and eye her legs as she walks through. “Yes, I absolutely am.”
We load up in the backseat of the car and I tell Cole where to take us. “The Pizza Garden on 5th, please.”
He punches it into the GPS as Mallory squeals. Good, I was hoping that was the reaction I’d get. “Still your favorite place?” I ask.
“Are you kidding? I think they’ve gotten even better since you lived here.” She squirms happily in her seat. Lucky fucking seat. “Wait until you taste it,” she says. “You’ll go nuts.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Wait. We can’t go there,” she says, looking disappointed. “It’s Friday night. It’ll be packed.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her.
“Don’t worry?” She looks slightly panicked. “One of us has to, Chad. You shouldn’t be seen out with me.”
She doesn’t realize what I have planned, but her comment pisses me off anyway. The way she said it was self-deprecating. Like she was somehow worried about what it would look like if I were to be seen with ‘someone like’ her. “Why the hell not?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she says, holding out her arms and looking down at herself.
“Jesus, Mallory, would you quit that shit? You are gorgeous and smart and generous, and any man would be honored to be seen with you. You were never self-conscious when we were younger. Why now?”
“Oh, let’s see,” she says, looking around the car. “Maybe because when we were younger you didn’t have a bodyguard-slash-driver. Or maybe because you weren’t a gazillionaire movie star. Or maybe because you weren’t dating beautiful actresses or hobnobbing with famous athletes. Should I go on?”
“Gazillionaire?” I mock. “Is that even a word?”
“Whatever. I mean, come on, Chad. You have to admit, this is all pretty intimidating for someone like me.”
“It shouldn’t be. You should have everything that I have. You should have it and more. I want to give it to you.”
She stares at me in the darkness of the back seat. “You can’t say things like that.”
“I can say whatever the hell I want, Mal. I’ve never censored myself with you and I’m not about to start now. I want to see you. I want to take you on a real date. And at the end of that date, I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you until your knees go weak. I want to kiss you so long and so hard that any other kiss you’ve ever had with another guy will seem inconsequential. I’m not going to hide how I feel, and I’m sure as shit not going to feel badly about it.”
Mallory is frozen to the seat, speechless. I glance at Cole, who has been witness to the entire conversation. He catches my eyes in the rearview mirror and smiles. Cole doesn’t smile.
“I—I’m just a little overwhelmed, I guess,” she says, straightening her skirt. “This is all so new to me, Chad. You’ve had years to get used to the money and the fame and this new life that goes with it. You can’t expect me to accept it all in six short days. Can we take a breath, please? Can we have dinner and talk about things like we used to? Can we just be friends tonight before we make any decisions?”
I get what she’s saying. I do. But once you’ve made a decision about your life, you want to get on with it and start living. “I’ve already made mine,” I tell her. “But yeah, we can just have dinner and talk. Being with you tonight is all I wanted. The rest can wait.”
She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. I can see the tension leaving her as we drive through the city. Cole pulls into the alley in the back and knocks on the rear door to the restaurant.
Mallory looks sideways at me. “Sneaking in the back, are we?”
“It’s all part of my plan to seduce you,” I tease. “Nothing screams sexy like wading through dumpsters and homeless people to impress your girl.”
“You’re terrible,” she says, swatting my leg.
I trap her hand on my thigh and hold it there until Cole opens the door for us. The best part about it is, she lets me.
“Everything set?” I ask Cole.
He nods. “Just like you asked.” He escorts us the ten feet from the car to the back door of the restaurant. “I’ll park it and be close by if you need me.”
“Welcome, Mr. Stone,” says the small Italian man with a heavy accent who greets us at the door. “I’m Mario, the owner of this establishment. Anything you want, just ask. Follow me. I set a good table for you in back. Far from the windows. No one will see.”
He walks us into the main dining room. It’s dark and quiet, with candles in the center of each table providing just enough light so we don’t trip over anything. He points to a large table in the back corner. It’s set with a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth.
Mallory takes in the barren dining room, looking from one empty table to the next. She questions me with her eyes as we make our way to the table with the most candles. There is already a bottle of champagne chilling and a glass of her favorite beer on the table. At least I think it’s her favorite. It’s the kind she had at her house when I shared one with her dad. Maybe it’s only her dad’s favorite. Shit—there is so much I need to learn about her. I just hope she’ll let me.
She thanks Mario for seating us and then turns to me with a hard stare. “Where is everybody?”
“I didn’t want us to be bothered. Sometimes this is the only way.”
Her jaw drops. “You rented out the whole restaurant for the night?”
“Not the whole thing,” I say. “They still do delivery. Don’t worry, the people of New York can still have their favorite pizza tonight.”
“That must’ve cost you hundreds, or maybe thousands. Chad, you shouldn’t have.”
I’m not about to tell her it cost me over ten grand. “Don’t worry about it.” I can see she’s about to argue the point, so I add, “I didn’t do it to impress you, Mallory. I did it for me. I just wanted one night where I could go out and feel normal. Go to a regular place like everyone else and enjoy dinner like everyone else does, without cameras going off every ten seconds. Without having to pretend I don’t mind being interrupted twenty times when I’m trying to eat. Without having to worry about every goddamn facial expression and mannerism because they could end up plastered all over TMZ. This was our place, Mal. I wanted to bring you here for a normal dinner. Please don’t make me feel bad about it.”
She closes her eyes and takes a breath. Then she looks at me with a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about what it must be like for you to have a night out. Of course you should be allowed to go to your favorite places without being mobbed. I don’t know how you do it.” She looks around the old familiar place we used to come to on special occasions.
“Thank you for bringing me here. It looks the same, but somehow different.”
My eyes don’t leave her face. “I completely agree.”
She takes a drink of her beer, smiling at the taste. “You got my favorite,” she says. Then she nods at my glass of ice water. “You’re not drinking? Does it bother you that I am? I don’t have to.”
“It doesn’t bother me at all, Mal. I want you to enjoy yourself.” I point to the ice bucket next to the table. “I’m saving myself for the good stuff.”
She laughs. “Pizza and champagne. Now I know I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
That laugh. This girl. I’m the one who’s in fucking heaven.
Chapter Twelve
Mallory
He watches me take another drink, almost like he’s jealous of the glass. “Wait a second,” he says. “You said this place looks the same but different. I thought you said you’d been here since we were kids. In the car, you said the pizza is even better now.”
I shake my head. I haven’t stepped foot in this place since he left. It didn’t seem right. It was our place. “I haven’t been inside since we were kids. But my friend, Melissa, lives a few blocks over and sometimes we get takeout when I crash there.”
My phone rings. Darn, I forgot to shut off the ringer. “Sorry,” I say, switching the sound off. I notice Julian is trying to call me. So not a good time.
A waitress arrives, putting a hot loaf of sliced cheese bread on the table. She fumbles with it, almost spilling it in my lap, obviously nervous about serving the famous Thad Stone. “You really can’t get away from it, can you?” I ask after she leaves the table.
He shrugs. “Sometimes I put on a ball cap and glasses and go out and walk the streets, just to feel anonymous for a little while.”
I shake my head at the thought of it. “You have to disguise yourself just to take a walk? I have to ask, is it worth it? Is making movies worth all the lost freedom? I mean, you have enough money without it, so why do it if you don’t like all the attention?”
“Why did you do it?” he asks me. “Why did you act in all those plays in middle school and high school?”
I think about his question as I pick at a piece of bread. “I don’t know, I guess because I liked pretending to be something I wasn’t. Because I liked making other people happy when they watched me. And maybe because I thought I was good at it.”
He nods. “You were great at it, Mal. And that’s why I do it—for all those reasons and more. It’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. It’s something I can be proud of. I’d do it even if they didn’t pay me for it.”
My phone starts vibrating across the table. Chad motions to it. “Someone really wants to get a hold of you. You should answer it.”
“Okay. I’ll make it quick.” I pick up my phone and look at the screen. Darn, it’s Julian again. I shoot a guilty glance at Chad before I answer it. “Hey.”
“Hey to you, too,” Julian says. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Just getting a bite to eat.” I peek at Chad who is munching on a piece of bread.
“Having anything interesting? Or anyone?” He laughs.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. This is not the time to tell him I’m out with Chad. “Uh, no, it’s just me.” I hate lying to him. But I don’t have time for him to give me a lecture.
“Want to meet up tonight? There’s a band I’ve been wanting to see that will be playing at Gringo’s later.”
“I can’t. I have to grade papers.” I look anywhere but at Chad. He’s stopped eating and I can feel his eyes burning into me.
“It’s Friday, Mallory. Can’t those wait?” Julian pouts.
“I know it’s Friday, but I have so much work to do. It’s just not a good night, Julian. Listen, I have to go, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll make plans then.” It’s such an obvious blow-off, I expect him to argue, but he doesn’t.
“Fine. Talk to you tomorrow then,” he says, disconnecting the call without saying goodbye.
Could he know what I’m doing tonight? No, it’s impossible. I didn’t even know what I was doing tonight until a few hours ago. I put my phone away so there will be no more interruptions. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Julian?” Chad asks. “He wanted to go out with you?”
“He wanted to see a new band.”
“Why didn’t you tell him you were with me?”
I pause, taking a thoughtful drink before I answer him. But instead, I ask a question of my own. “Why haven’t you called him?”
“Because he’s had something I’ve always wanted.” He stares at me in the dim light of the restaurant. Even in the relative darkness, I can read his eyes. And I’m pretty sure they are telling me all the things I wanted to hear when I was fifteen. All the things every girl wants to hear. But is it too little, too late? “That’s my excuse,” he says. “What’s yours?”
“Uh . . . ” Like in the backseat of the car, it seems he’s rendered me speechless. “I guess I didn’t want to stir things up.”
“He knows you’ve been talking to me though, right?”
I nod.
“And he’s not happy about it,” he says.
“He thinks you’ll hurt me again,” I tell him.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Mal. I promise.”
“He’s just watching out for me like always.”
Pain washes across Chad’s face. I know I hurt him when I say things like that. But he needs to remember that I can’t just forget the past. He needs to know life went on without him and he can’t simply waltz back into my life and pick up where we left off.
“Will you tell me about you and him?” he asks. “You know, like when did you start dating and for how long?”
“There’s not much to tell,” I say. Except for maybe that he cheated on me, ruined our friendship, and further broke the trust I placed in men. “We got together after my mom died. He helped me through it and I guess I was at the point where I needed something more. But we only dated for a year.”
“What happened?”
It’s too soon to reveal all my secrets to the boy who abandoned me. “We just wanted different things, I guess.”
“But you stayed friends. That’s good.”
I nod. “It took a while to rebuild our friendship, but we got there. And now he and Melissa are my best friends.”
Chad’s eyebrows shoot up. “So there’s a chance for you and me after all, huh? I mean, if you rebuilt your friendship with Julian . . .”
And therein lies my dilemma. Julian cheated on me. He did one of the worst things a boy can do to a girl. How can I forgive him for that and not forgive Chad for merely forgetting me when his parents moved him away? Maybe because losing Chad felt so much worse than losing Julian.
“Maybe,” I say. “But there is so much I don’t know about you anymore.”
He spreads his arms wide open, leaning back in his chair. “What do you want to know? I’m an open book for you, Mal.”
I really want to know what sent him to rehab. What horrible thing happened that made him realize he needed to get clean? What life-changing event prompted him to sober up? The thing he said would make me hate him. But I don’t ask. I don’t ask because I fear it might have to do with another woman. One who gave him an ultimatum perhaps. One who he loved so much he got clean for. The thought of him being in love hurts my heart. It physically causes my chest to constrict and my throat to tighten.
Our server arrives, placing a large pizza on the table. I look at it and then smile at Chad. “You remembered?”
He leans over to get the champagne out of the ice bucket, waving off Mario when he rushes over to help him. “Of course I remembered. I remember everything about you. I remember you like spinach on your pizza. And that you don’t like red M&Ms. And that you prefer your water without ice because you think your body will have to work too hard to get it back to body temperature.” He turns away from me, popping the cork in the other direction, laughing
at me when I plug my ears. “And that you hate loud noises that sound like gunshots.”
He pours us each a glass and then raises his. “To . . . possibilities.”
I hesitate before raising mine. He frowns. “Come on, Mal. Throw a guy a bone here. I’m really trying.”
I think about everything he’s done for me this week. Coming to my house and talking with my dad. Showing up at the school. Ethan’s dinner. Tonight. And then I think about the fact that all week long, he’s done everything right. He’s been nice, funny, chivalrous, generous. And those eyes, I swear I could get lost in them. I raise my glass. “To possibilities,” I say.
“So, open book,” he says, serving me a slice. “Shoot.”
“Okay. Tell me about Courtney Benson.”
He brings a hand to his neck. “Going right for the jugular, eh?”
“We have to start somewhere.” I take a huge bite of my dinner, never losing eye contact.
“See, that’s what I love about you. You’re very direct. And you aren’t afraid to eat in front of me, even when you get spinach in your teeth.”
I use my free hand to cover my mouth. “Oh, fudge. I have spinach in my teeth?”
He laughs. “No, you don’t. But I’ll give you a thousand bucks right now if you say the word fuck.”
I feel the heat cross my face. It’s not that I haven’t said the word. I’ve said it plenty of times. Like when I stub my toe in the middle of the night walking to the bathroom. Or when I failed my first calculus exam. But for some reason, I can’t say it to him. Maybe it’s because you’ve always wanted to do it to him.
“You don’t actually have a thousand dollars with you, do you?” I hold up my hand before he speaks. “Wait, don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know if you have more in your pocket than I make in one week.”
He finishes his slice and then refills my glass and only my glass. “So, you want to know about Courtney.” He puts the bottle back in the ice bucket and wipes his hands. “As I’m sure you already know, we dated for a while last year. We met during Defcon One pre-production, hit it off and were together most of the summer and throughout filming. I broke it off when I found out she was using drugs. I tasted it on her one day and it scared the shit out of me. What if just kissing her would get me hooked on it again? It wasn’t a chance I was willing to take. I don’t think she’s a hard-core user like I was, but it was a deal-breaker for me.”
Stone Promises (A Stone Brothers Novel) Page 11