by K E Lane
My argument with Sophie hadn't changed her mind and she flatly refused to let us pay for dinner, also extracting a promise from both of us to come to Santa Barbara soon and let her cook for us at her restaurant. She kissed and hugged us both goodbye, ignoring the curious stares we were getting, and told me softly, "I am glad to have met you, Caidence. Bring her smile back, please."
I smiled in response and squeezed her hand. "I'll do my best, Sophie." I placed my other hand on my chest. "Prometo."
She smiled warmly and then pushed me gently towards Josh who was eyeballing the desserts. "Go, or you will never get him out of here."
I laughed and tugged him by the arm towards the door. "Come on, Josh, let's get out of Sophie's hair." He looked longingly at the desserts, even though he'd finished off his own huge piece of flan and half of my cheese tart. I grabbed his hand when he hesitated, and physically pulled him out the door, laughing.
The flashbulbs going off as we stepped outside blinded me for a moment and I stumbled a bit, throwing up a hand in an automatic defense. Josh's arm went around my waist in support, and he had a second to mumble, "Let me handle this…" before the barrage of questions started, and another round of flashes.
Oh shit.
"Mr. Riley, how long have you and Miss Harris been seeing each other?"
"What is your relationship?"
"Miss Harris, over here!"
Josh stepped slightly in front of me, keeping a hand resting lightly on my back. "What's all this," he asked with an easy smile, sending the photographers into a frenzy of clicking and whirring. "Slow news day?"
"Does Robyn know you're here with another woman?" Someone yelled, shoving a microphone into Josh's face, and it was then I realized this wasn't just photographers, there were video cams as well, and reporters from TV tabloids.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Caidence is a friend of both Robyn and I…" Josh tried to explain, but another volley of questions and yelling drown him out.
"Over here! Josh, Caidence, over here! Give us a smile…"
"Josh, when did you and Robyn break up?"
"Miss Harris, what will it be like to work with Miss Ward now that you've stolen her fiancée?"
"Oh, hell," Josh said under his breath, "I think that's enough of this - come on."
We pushed through the group and walked as quickly as possible down the block, the group trailing behind us, still yelling questions and taking photos. I kept my eyes to the front, so I didn't get an exact count, but there must have been at least twenty, if not more.
"Josh, is it true that you, Caidence and Robyn had a threesome?"
Oh, Liz would have loved that one…
"Caidence, were you actually with Josh when you 'disappeared'?"
Goddamnit, how many times do I have to say it - I didn't disappear, I didn't get lost…
"We have a source that tells us you're trying to weasel your way between Robyn and Josh to break up their relationship…is that true Miss Harris?"
My steps slowed. Weasel? Now how was that for a coincidence? I felt my jaw tighten and my temple start to throb in anger.
I was never a big believer in coincidences.
I slowed even further, ready to go back into the restaurant and kick some elder Ward sister ass, but Josh tugged at my hand, urging me on. I quickly decided he was right, and kicking Trish's ass, with twenty-some reporters and photographers as well and her own mother looking on, wasn't the best idea right now.
Maybe some other time.
I lengthened my stride to keep up with Josh and soon we were slipping into the car and slamming the doors behind us while the group continued to film, yell and take pictures.
"Goddamnit!" Josh jammed the key into the ignition in disgust. "What the hell was all that? Shit, I hate when they get like that." He started the car and jammed it into gear, backing swiftly out onto the street and scattering reporters as he went.
I fastened my seatbelt, remembering Josh's penchant for speed, and gripped the seat with shaky hands, holding on tightly as Josh led a determined news van and a few photographers on a merry chase. We squealed onto Pico at dizzying speed, our pursuers still on our bumper, but a harrowing left onto Lincoln lost two of them, and when we hit the Santa Monica Freeway and Josh opened up however many horses that little car had under the hood, they didn't have a chance.
After a few more minutes of white-knuckle driving that would have made Dale Earnhardt Jr. proud, Josh slowed to a more sedate - if you can call 90 sedate - speed and I loosened my grip on the seat and the door.
"God damn," Josh said finally, and flashed a smile at me. "That was kick ass."
I frowned at him and punched him in the arm. "Jerk. You coulda killed someone. Someone like me, for instance."
He just laughed, and I grunted and rubbed my face with my hands, hiding a smile.
He glanced over at me, caught the smile and laughed again. "Admit it. It was kick ass."
I just smiled and shook my head, relaxing back into the seat. After a few minutes of driving in silence, I asked curiously, "Does that happen to you a lot? The press just waiting for you like that?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes, when it's a publicized event and I'm with Robyn, it can get a little crazy, but they're usually a little less…nasty." He paused, and looked thoughtful. "This was kind of strange."
When I'm with Robyn…that brought up a whole set of insecurities I didn't feel like dealing with at the moment. Robyn and Josh did the public couple thing for publicity and for there careers…what happened if…when…things got more serious between me and Robyn? Where did I fit into her life? Or did I? Did she assume things would just stay the same, and I was just something on the side? I pushed the thought away with an annoyed shake of my head, concentrating instead on whether I should tell Josh my suspicions about Trish.
"Josh…" I started hesitantly, still not sure of how to bring it up. "Did you hear one of those guys ask me if I was trying to weasel my way between you and Robyn?"
He nodded. "Caid, don't let it bother you…"
"No, no, it's not that," I said, and shook my head. "Although it does bother me that people think that." I paused. "When I talked with Trish earlier tonight, she told me she wasn't going to let me weasel in on you while Robyn was gone…"
He swore softly and shook his head sadly. "Goddamn Trish. She said something tonight about how I'd better be honest with Robyn, because she was going to hear about this whether I told her or not. Shit. She must have called someone. I can't believe she'd do that! I know she likes to give Robyn a hard time, but this is ridiculous. Damn, Robby's going to kill her…"
"Not if I get there first," I mumbled. "What's with those two anyway? One minute she's defending Robyn and acting like the proud sister, and the next, she's cutting her to shreds…"
"Yeah, they've always had a strange relationship - I think Trish is totally jealous of Robyn's fame, but at the same time she's incredibly loyal…" He looked over at me curiously. "You got all that from her tonight?"
"No." I shook my head. "Trish came by to see Robyn the morning she left for Florida. I'd just spent the night…when Robyn introduced us, she talked about watching 9th Precinct whenever Robyn was on, and then proceeded to basically call her, and every other actress, a pretty face with no talent. It was…bizarre."
"You spent the night? At her house?" He asked in surprise. I nodded. "And she introduced you to Trish?"
I nodded again, and smiled wanly. "Not quite as simple as it sounds - there were some…issues. But yes, I stayed the night, and yes, she introduced me to Trish."
He let out a low whistle. "You've got more pieces of her than you think then, Caid. She never lets her women stay over. Never even invites them to the house. Never."
The words hit me like a punch, and I let my head fall back against the headrest. Her women.
Christ.
I couldn't even be glad about the other things he'd said. All I heard was her women…
He looked over at me apologeti
cally. "Ah, shit. That sounded bad. I…"
I held up a hand, stopping him. "No, no…don't apologize. I pretty much knew about," I waved my hand vaguely, "that. I just…" I shook my head. "Let's just change the subject though, okay?"
He looked at me worriedly, but obliged. "So, ah…you said you were going to be in New York next week?"
"Yeah. Monday through Wednesday, probably. Connie is still working out the details."
"My dad lives upstate…I'm stopping over for a couple of days on my way to England. Do you know where you're staying? Maybe we could have dinner or meet for a drink or something."
I looked over at him and laughed lightly. "I love ya, Josh, and enjoy your company, but do you really think that's a good idea after what just happened?"
He frowned. "I'm not going to let the press dictate who I do things with, Caid, and neither should you."
The irony of the statement wasn't lost on me, since in essence he and Robyn had been doing exactly that for two years. But I knew what he meant.
"I have a feeling we're going to be doing a lot together in the future, Caid," he continued. "The press is going to have to get used to it sometime."
"Ugh." I rubbed my forehead with the palm of my hand and then ran my hand through my hair. "I know, I know, and I might as well get used to it, too, since it's going to be a little crazy for a while after the finale airs…" I sighed. "How about a compromise? I'll be at the Gansevoort - I fly in on Monday night, and was planning on a late dinner at the hotel restaurant…want to join me? It would keep the press to a minimum. They're good about security."
"That'll works for me - how about I call you later this weekend to firm things up?"
I nodded. "Thanks, Josh…and…can you call Robyn and tell her about all this? You can call her, right? I don't want her to be surprised, or to think…"
"I'll call her, but she's not going to think anything bad, Caid - not about you and me. I doubt she'll even hear about it - she's pretty wrapped up in the movie, and it's a closed set." He patted my leg. "You shouldn't worry so much. They'll lose interest in no time."
I desperately hoped he was right.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
He was wrong. No one lost interest.
If anything, the recent mix of stories about me - my disappearance, the photos of me kissing an unidentified blond man, and my dinner with Josh - combined to set the press into something of a feeding frenzy.
My flight out of LA the afternoon before had drawn a good bit interest from the lurking LAX celebrity photo corps, and my arrival in LaGuardia had been just as well documented. Annoyed by the growing group of press following my every move, I wasn't as charming as I could have been as I made my way through the cadre of photographers at the hotel that evening, or this morning, on my way to the morning show taping, when I was swamped again outside the network building.
"Shit." I grunted in disgust, tossing the paper I'd been looking at onto the table nestled in the bay window seating nook of my hotel room. It skidded across a stack of other papers and internet printouts already there, scattering them and knocking several to the carpet.
Pictures of Josh and me at Sophie's, smiling and laughing over dinner.
Pictures of Josh with his arm around my waist as we left the restaurant and others of us as we hurried to the car ahead of the press, our hands linked. I don't even remember holding his hand, but there it was, in full color.
Pictures of the two of us at dinner the night before at Ona, again smiling and looking very chummy. The security at the hotel was good and to my relief we hadn't been bothered once during dinner, but they couldn't stop every enterprising diner with a camera-phone.
The pictures taken on the balcony of Liz's Malibu house, of James kissing me.
Grainy covert photos from the supposedly 'closed' set of Lost Key, showing Robyn looking gaunt, pale and un-kept, along with accompanying stories of her rumored breakdown. I knew she was playing an addict in the film, and I applauded her makeup artist, but the photos gave me a twinge of concern - the thinness was real, and she was too thin already. I hoped she wasn't taking this looking like an addict to the extreme.
Scattered throughout the pages were pictures of Josh and Robyn, looking happy and beautiful together, gazing at each other with obvious affection and adoration.
And then there were the headlines.
Home-wrecker. Temptress. Seductress. Back-stabber. Harlot. Conniver. Schemer.
Basically, a thesaurus of words meaning nasty bitch.
I sighed again and dropped heavily onto the couch, staring out the window at the Hudson and cityscape, leaving the papers where they lay.
Seemingly overnight, I had become a certified jezebel; a prickly slut who had broken up one of the most recognized celebrity pairings of the last several years, and caused a nervous breakdown in the process.
Fantastic.
Josh had tried to reassure me last night, telling me again that this would blow over; that another celebrity would do something shocking or just plain stupid and the press would forget all about us, but to me it seemed doubtful. I'd never been the focus of so much press, nor did I ever want to be again.
Ever.
I'd have to examine that wish carefully, considering the relationship I was fumbling around in with Robyn. If the press ever got the points of the triangle of Josh, Robyn and I connected correctly…I shook my head, not even wanting to imagine the kind of frenzy that would provoke. What was happening to me now was quite enough to deal with.
And I still have the fallout from the season finale to go through, which should be just about…I checked my watch…half-way through right now.
I ran a hand through my hair, still slightly damp from the shower I'd taken after making use of the rooftop pool and the very fancy exercise facility the hotel boasted. The workout had helped my stress levels a little, but not as much as I'd hoped, and the tumbler of scotch and ice I was sipping on was the next step in trying to relax enough to sleep.
The buzz of my cell phone vibrating against the glass-topped bed stand interrupted my next sip, and I rolled my eyes, thinking it was probably Connie. Again. She'd been calling me almost hourly to give me pep talks, advice on what to say and more importantly what not to say to the press, and updates on what steps the agency was taking to get things back under control. While I appreciated her concern and support, more press-talk was the last thing I wanted to hear right now.
I pushed myself reluctantly off the couch and crossed to the phone, not even bothering to check the display. "Connie, I think you're the best damn agent in the world, but honestly, I don't need to be babysat. I fine, really."
There was a pause, and then a low chuckle that sent my heart pounding and made breathing suddenly difficult. "I'm glad to hear it," the familiar voice rasped, and I closed my eyes, savoring the riot of emotions that voice produced.
"Robyn…" I steadied my breathing and sat down on the bed. "Hey."
"Hey yourself."
Neither of us spoke for several moments - I was happy just listening to her breathe, to know she was at the other end of the line, to finally be connected to her again in some way. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, trying to picture where she was, what she was doing, what she looked like…was her hair loose around her shoulders or tied back? Was she dressed for an evening out, or in casual clothes - jeans and a t-shirt maybe?
"Goddamn, I miss you," I said finally, gratified at the slight catch in her breathing.
"I miss you too," she said softly. "I think I might have a remedy for that."
"Do you." I smiled slightly. "Why, Miss Ward, are you suggesting…"
"Open the door, Caid."
My eyes popped open and I sat up fast enough to make me dizzy. "What?"
There was a soft tapping on the door. "Open the door."
"Holy shit." I tossed the phone down, scrambled off the bed and flew to the door, fumbling with the different chains and locks before finally throwing the door open and staring dumbly at t
he sight that greeted me.
Damn, she looked good.
Faded jeans, tennis shoes and a blue hooded UCLA sweatshirt pulled up to cover her head...
"Surprise." She smiled hesitantly. "Can I come in?"
I blinked and shook myself out of my frozen state. "God yes. Of course, come in." I stepped back to let her in. She brushed past me, closer than necessary in the wide door and the slight contact and accompanying hint of her perfume set my skin and senses tingling.