by Stacy Wise
I crouch to retrieve it and remain in a little ball, hoping the annoying superhero will leave me alone. “Sorry, the phone fell. And no, I left yours in the basket on the kitchen counter where I always leave it.”
“Are you sure?” he snaps.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I try not to sound rude, but seriously? I’m positive I left it there. Where else would I put it? Up for auction on eBay? I update his phone calendar every single morning when I get to his house. Some days it takes me twenty minutes to input all the shit he’s expected to do, on top of keeping track of his call times, which sometimes change at the last minute. The coolest thing I added was “Justin’s show.” I asked him for more details on that one. I tried to make it sound like I was being efficient, but really I was curious. He glanced at me and said, “Justin Timberlake’s concert. He’s a friend.” I clamped my mouth shut before I said something stupid in a really high-pitched voice. Since then, I almost look forward to doing his calendar every morning. I keep waiting for another exciting entry.
“If you have any ideas where it might be, call me on this number.” His voice is tight. I start to answer him, but he’s already clicked off.
Batman turns in circles, tripping over his cape, and I dash past him. I find the bathroom and lean against the door to close it. My arm isn’t gushing by any means, but a small patch of blood has soaked through the bandage. I pull open the mirrored medicine cabinet. It’s packed with a greasy tube of hair gel, toothbrushes that are not in a holder but lying flat on the shelf, touching each other, gloppy toothpaste tubes, a few condoms, and a bottle of aspirin. No bandages. Great. I consider wrapping my arm in toilet paper. Just as I’m about to yank off a streamer of toilet tissue, I remember that I took some bandages from Jack’s first-aid kit and put them in my purse.
I find it buried under a pile of purses on the bench where I left it. I open the inside pocket and pull out the bandages. Something shiny catches my eye, and I reach for it. Oh, hell. Oh, double hell. How on earth did this happen?
I have Jack’s cell phone. Seventeen missed calls show on the screen. Oh, shit. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial the number he called me from. A girl’s voice answers. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m trying to reach Jack.”
There’s a rustling, and then, Jack’s voice. “Yeah?”
“Hi, it’s Jessica. I found your phone. I’m so sorry—I must’ve gotten distracted and dropped it into my purse. It looks just like mine.”
“You just now found it? I’ve been calling it all fucking night.”
My heart pounds, and my skin prickles. I turn the phone on its side and see that the ringer is off. Not that I would have heard it had it been on. “I’m sorry. The ringer was off.”
“Fuck. I need it now. I’m waiting to hear from Steven, and my other phone is dead. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
I look at my watch. It’s ten fifteen already. “Any chance you can charge your other phone? I’m out right now.” I kind of cringe when I say this, knowing that I shouldn’t ask questions. I should just do what is asked.
“No, I can’t charge my other phone. I’m out, too. Can you bring it to the Hotel Bel-Air right away? I’m in the bar.”
“Yep. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I drop his phone into my purse.
He mumbles something that might have been thank you but was more likely hurry, and I click off. I weave through clusters of drunken, sweaty characters in search of the girls so I can say good-bye.
Kolbi is in a room behind the dance floor, chatting with a group of people. I pull her aside. “I have to go.”
“Now? Why?”
I didn’t think that part through. I was going to say work emergency, but that would raise too many questions. “Meg, my roommate, needs me. She has a big thing at work tomorrow and needs my help.”
“Meg? Your roommate who came to our party and hit on Angie’s boyfriend?”
“Uh, yeah.” I forgot about that awful night, but Kolbi clearly hasn’t.
“Oh. What big work thing does she have?”
Shoot. I feel like Kolbi knows I’m lying. “I don’t really know. She sounded stressed and begged me to come home.”
Kolbi shrugs. “Sounds kind of weird to me. You know she works at my dad’s firm, right?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, I met my dad for lunch one day and saw her there. She’s an assistant to one of the newer guys.”
“Wait. She’s an assistant? Are you sure? I thought she was a broker.”
“Nope. She’s definitely an assistant. That’s why I think it’s weird that she has a big thing. What could it be? An overwhelming order of paper and staples? And you can close your mouth now. I thought you knew.”
I clamp my mouth shut. The way Meg talks has always led me to believe she’s a broker, like she has a killer job there. I try to think if she ever said that exactly, or just alluded to it. Either way, she certainly never corrected me when I referred to her as a broker. “I didn’t know.”
Kolbi shrugs again. “She probably told you she’s a broker because she wanted to one-up you. I know you don’t see it because she’s your good friend, but she’s jealous of you in a really warped way. She can never be happy for you. She always has to knock you down. The way she talked about our sorority stuff was borderline abusive.”
“She’s not always trying to one-up me.”
“Well, you know her better than I do, but that’s my take on things.” She pauses. “Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah. I only had half a drink. I’m good. Thanks for inviting me up. I miss you guys.”
“Miss you, too.” She gives me a quick hug. “I’ll text you tomorrow. And Jess?”
“Yeah?”
“Pay attention to how Meg treats you, okay? None of us really understand why you continue to hang out with her.”
Seriously? I don’t have time for this right now. I know I shouldn’t be pissed at Kolbi, but the truth of the matter is I’m pissed at everyone, Meg included. “Can we talk about this later? I have to go.”
“For sure. You know I love you, Jess.”
“Love you, too.”
Kolbi’s words loop through my head as I navigate my way through the now annoying party. The air is cold as I step outside. Stupid costume. I should’ve dressed as Chewbacca. I jog to my car, wishing I could silence the noise in my head.
She’s jealous of you in a really warped way…borderline abusive…she can never be happy for you…pay attention…Shut up!
After nearly missing my turn onto Wilshire, I crank up the radio to the point that my head hurts. Perfect. It prevents me from thinking. I need to cease all thoughts and focus on delivering a very important phone to a very important person.
Chapter Fifteen
At ten fifty, I roll into the valet line at the Hotel Bel-Air. I didn’t have time to clean up my arm, let alone put on my regular clothes. Now I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she tried shopping in Beverly Hills dressed as a hooker. I walk into the hotel as though I know exactly where I’m going. The trick is to look self-assured. I stare straight ahead, not daring to look into the eyes of the well-dressed older couple walking toward me.
I make a quick turn and find myself in the bar. Jack is sitting in a cozy corner beneath an artsy black-and-white framed photograph of Cher. I take in the beauty of it before glancing back at him. He’s with a stunning blond girl, and it’s not Tabitha. No surprise there. So many women, so little time.
I march up to his table. The girl blatantly checks me out from head to toe. “It looks like we have a little trick-or-treater.” She gives me a condescending smile, and I half expect her to shoo me away the way Tabitha did to her assistant.
I keep my mouth shut tight, swallowing my desire to make a snide remark. “Hi,” I say, without making eye contact. I focus on opening my purse so I can give him his phone and get out of here. “I’m so sorry about the mix-up. Here you go.”
He pr
actically yanks it out of my hands and clicks it on. “Shit. Look at all these missed calls,” he says to himself. He taps his phone to see them. It looks like a lot of them came from the same number. They’re all probably from him trying to find his phone.
The girl looks at him. “This is your assistant?”
“Yeah. She’s my assistant.” He glances up from his phone and stares as though seeing me for the first time tonight. There’s something in his look that makes me blush. I’m sure he thinks I look ridiculous. I really should’ve tried to find somewhere to change before coming here. Being the fine actor he is, he recovers quickly. “Jessica, this is Corinne Dahl. Corinne, Jessica Beckett.”
Corrine Dahl! That’s why she looks familiar. I knew she was famous. I just couldn’t place her. Wasn’t she nominated for an award for the last movie she did? Corrine stares at Jack, her pretty eyes open wide. “Really? You have a young female assistant? Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous? What if you piss her off one day and she screams sexual harassment?”
“She won’t do that. Will you, Jessica?”
“Uh, no. Not unless you sexually harass me.”
Jack turns to me, raising an eyebrow.
“Told you,” Corinne quips. “You need a loyal gay man or an efficient older woman.”
“I actually am a loyal gay man. I’m in drag for the night.”
I feel Jack’s eyes on me and turn to look at him. He holds my gaze for a moment, and I wonder if I went too far. But before I can apologize, he shifts his focus to my boots. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to say anything, but that’s quite an outfit.”
“I was at a costume party. Obviously,” I say, adjusting the strap of my purse.
“Well, if anyone can pull off that costume, you can. Right down to the bandages.”
Oh, man. For a second I thought he was giving me a compliment, but he was clearly making a joke.
“Is it bleeding again?” he asks, pointing to my elbow.
“I think the scab came off.” Corrine Dahl cringes when I say the word scab. I almost want to repeat it—scab, scab, scab—just to annoy her.
“How’d that happen?”
“I had a run-in with Batman and hit my arm on the wall.”
Corinne looks up at me, apparently over her disgust. “A run-in with Batman? Is he your boyfriend?”
“No. He’s a drunk frat boy.”
“Sounds like a fabulous party. Sorry Jack dragged you away from it.”
As I’m trying to figure out a clever response, a man in a well-cut suit glides up to the table. “Excuse me. My friend over there and I have a little wager going. Can you help us out?”
Oh, please. I’m sure Corinne Dahl gets hit on by guys like him all the time. He’s probably going to ask her if she’s Corinne Dahl or Blake Lively, or something equally stupid. I take a few steps to the side, because it suddenly feels like he’s punctured my personal space bubble, not to mention that I can’t stand the bitter smell of hard liquor that emanates from him.
“Well?” he says, looking at me.
“Are you talking to me?”
An unctuous smile slides onto his face. “Yes.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Jack. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are fixed on our visitor.
“I have no idea how I can help you.”
“It’s just one quick question. Bear with me, will you? Are you supposed to be a female bounty hunter or Lara Croft?”
Come on! And that’s two questions, genius.
“Lara Croft,” Jack snaps, as if he’s saying fuck off.
The guy looks from Jack back to me. “Yes! I knew it!”
“Congratulations,” I say.
“We’d love to have you join us for a drink.” The way he eyes me up and down makes me feel violated.
“No, thanks.”
“Are you sure? From the looks of things, you’re the third wheel in this scenario. Come with me. We could have some real fun.”
I wish I could bust out some badass Lara Croft moves on this creep. Even some pepper spray would be nice right about now.
Jack stands, putting himself face-to-face with the guy. He uses an arm to scoot me behind him. I startle when he reaches his hand back to grab mine. “She’s not interested, okay?” he growls. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
The guy flashes his palms and backs up. “Fine. No need to make a scene, drama queen.”
Jack glares at the back of his head until he’s at the other end of the bar. When he turns to face me, he slips his hand from mine. “Sorry. If I didn’t grab onto something, I would’ve punched that guy.”
I nod, unable to look away from him.
“Guys can be such asses,” Corinne says loudly.
The realization that I need to say something sparks me into motion. I step closer to her and say, “Yeah, no kidding.”
“Anyway, it was nice meeting you. I’m sure you want to get back to your frat boy.”
I smile at her, even though I’m starting to think she’s a snob. “Nice meeting you, too. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack.”
“Yep,” he says, his focus now on the wineglass that he spins on the table.
I take the long route out so I don’t have to pass Loser Dude’s table. When I reach the lobby, I pause to dig my valet ticket out of my bag, thankful for the quiet. I’m starting to hate Halloween. I find my ticket and tuck it into my pocket. As I continue to the doors, rushed footsteps sound behind me. I glance back and see the guy from the bar heading my way.
“Change your mind, Lara Croft? You looking for me?”
“Nope. Just leaving.” I spin and stride to the exit. I don’t remember the hotel being so empty earlier.
He’s right behind me. I shudder and pick up my pace. As soon as I do, he grabs my shoulder and yanks me back. I shrug out from his grasp, but his hand clamps down on me again, squeezing hard, and his fingers dig into my flesh.
“Hey. Why are you ignoring me?” he hisses into my ear. “Dressed like that, you’re obviously looking for some attention.” He thrusts his hips into mine.
My heart races. Focus and get away. I take a step and back-kick his shin with the heel of my boot as hard as I can, but I trip as he’s jerked away from me.
I spin to see Jack holding on to the guy’s arm. “You need to get the hell out of here.” He shoves the idiot, causing him to stumble. “She’s with me.” And before I can register what’s happening, Jack’s hands are on my face. He crushes his lips against mine, moving them across my mouth, forcefully at first, then…oh my God…his lips soften. His tongue slides into my mouth, and we’re kissing so perfectly. The world disappears as I move my lips against his.
“Jack!” The shriek in Corrine Dahl’s voice sends reality slamming into me. I push him away, and he looks as stunned as I feel. “Jack!” She snaps her fingers at him. “This needs to stop. Now!”
I stand, frozen, staring at Jack. “What the hell are you doing?”
His eyes land on my lips. Butterflies collide in my stomach. He blows out a breath. “I was making that asshole disappear,” he mutters, glancing at Corinne before turning back to me. “The guy was a freaking stalker. Punching people in the face is out, so I improvised.”
So much adrenaline is shooting through me, I may rocket through the ceiling.
“Look,” I say, taking a step back, “I don’t need anyone to protect me, okay? I can handle myself.”
Corinne steps forward. “You heard her. She’s fine. Can we go back to the bar now?”
He takes her hand and squeezes it. “Go on back to the table. I’ll be right there, okay? I need a minute.” He leans over and kisses her cheek. With lips that just touched mine.
She gives me a withering look before turning on her heel.
“Look, Jess. I’m really sorry, okay? I don’t know what came over me. You looked so vulnerable that I wanted to smash that guy’s head to the floor.”
Testosterone-fueled energy flows from him, swirling around me, taunting me, teasing me, mak
ing me want to feel his lips on mine again. He places a hand on the back of his neck and looks away.
I ball my fists at my sides, hating him for touching me. And hating myself for wanting him to do it again. “Just so we’re clear,” I say, willing my voice to remain steady. “I don’t want anything from you. I’m your assistant. You’re my boss. So don’t come up with any misconstrued notion that you need to be anything more than that. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“I get it,” he says, the frustration in his voice palpable. “I’m not trying to be anything, okay? I fucking lost my head. I crossed a line, and I’m really sorry.”
I nod, unable to get any words out.
“Okay? Will you let me walk you to your car? Not as a bodyguard. Just to be nice.”
I nod again, and he grabs my hand, leading me to the valet line. I have no idea why I’m letting him hold my hand. I trail along with him, my heart thumping. We reach the valet area outside, and I hand the attendant my ticket.
Jack stands to the side of me. He’s smart enough to know I need a little breathing room. I hug my arms around my waist.
“You have goose bumps,” he says quietly, giving me a sideways glance. “You must be freezing out here.”
I have goose bumps because you just kissed me in the lobby, you idiot. “Yeah, it’s cold.”
He steps behind me and places his leather jacket over my shoulders. When I don’t dart off like a spooked horse, he begins to run his hands up and down my arms, warming me. His hands are caressing, comforting, calming. It feels good. I let my eyes fall shut, and I lean back into him. When I realize what I’m doing, I stand up straighter. I will not fall prey to another stupid actor who knows all the right lines and all the right moves. Screw that shit. He’s poison.
“Your car’s here,” he says softly, his words landing on my neck.
“Awesome.” I shrug off his jacket and stalk over to my Ford Fiesta like it’s Lara Croft’s badass Jeep. I pause, knowing I need to reel it in. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack. Good night.”
“See you tomorrow.”
I sneak a look at him. He’s standing by the valet stand, his hands in his pockets, a serious look on his face.