“About Brianna,” I say, ignoring his bullshit concern. “When I leave here, I want you to start treating your employees with respect. Brianna especially. No more making her get on her knees and clean floors, insulting her, and threatening her job. You got it?”
The pompous little prick sputters, knocked on his heels momentarily. “Mr. Adams, there are things that—”
“I know an asshole when I see one,” I hiss in his ear. “And I am tired of assholes. So, I want you to promise me not to fire her until she quits on you. You got it?”
Anger spreads across his face. But I use my height to my advantage, staring him down. I don’t even know what I’m doing or why he would listen to me, but I can’t help myself.
“Yes, Mr. Adams,” he says finally. “I’ll leave Miss Sayles alone.”
“Good. Because I don't want to have to start making phone calls.” My words sound stupid to my ears, but I need to do something. If I have to end up leaving without talking to Brianna, I want to have at least done something meaningful for her.
I leave Vandenburgh before he can reply and go up to my room on the sixth floor. As I step off, I see Leslie directing a bellhop with her luggage. “Hey, I’m glad you’re okay,” she says. “I thought for sure that you were really injured.”
“Yeah, just a little bump. I’ll be fine, and you can see me on Sunday TV.”
“It’s crazy how things turned out with the movie,” she says. “I hope you’re not mad about it.”
I shrug. I really don’t care anymore. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m glad you get the chance to shine. My acting was shit anyway.”
“Yeah, but I understand.” She leans in. “You really should see what you can do about that. I know you really care for her.”
“I don't know. We come from two different worlds.”
“And that’s where the most explosive things happen, when two different worlds collide.”
I chuckle at the aptness of her remark. “Like football and Hollywood?”
Leslie shakes her head. “Just . . . don't be like me and lose something you'll regret for the rest of your life.”
Her words are heavy on me. I don't know what to say.
“Listen, handsome,” Leslie says as she sees me lost in thought, chucking me on the arm. “I’ll catch you later at the press promotions for the movies. And I’ll make sure not to stay on your arm just in case. And maybe if you have a good story for me, I’ll have a good story for you.”
She winks and I give her a wave. “Thanks. See you around.”
My mind is running when I step into the room. I’m conflicted, not sure what to do. I can get cleaned up and go over to Bri’s apartment, but then what? Tell her, ‘Yeah, I don't want to leave you, but now I have to.’ Talk about an asshole move.
I sigh and shrug off my blazer. I head through the room toward the bathroom when I notice a stack of money on the desk. Arching an eyebrow, I walk over to see that it’s my money clip sitting on top of a note. My heart pounds in my chest as I pick it up to read it.
Dear Gavin,
Leaving me with the money this morning did not sit well with me. I didn’t sleep with you so I could get paid. And when I showed you my place, it wasn’t for you to have sympathy for me.
I know you’re a big star with everything in the world and I should be falling all over myself with gratitude.
But the truth is, I know this thing we have can never be. You’re leaving. You get to go back to your big fancy house and your cars and return to being the cocky sports star and celebrity you're known for, with a slew of women on your arm.
And if this was your way for apologizing for all of that—I don't want it. I don't need your sympathy or your money.
So I’m leaving this here for you to give to someone else, perhaps someone who needs it more than me. And I wish you all the best with your sports and movie career.
Lastly, please don't try to contact me. There’s no point and it’s not worth the heartache. I don't want to ever see you again.
Bri
I stand there reading the words over and over, my head feeling like it’s going to explode. It hurts reading this. And what hurts most of all is that it’s true. I can’t stay, and starting a long-distance relationship with a football star would be hell on her.
The only way I can have something meaningful with Bri is if I stay or she comes with me. And she’s made it clear that she loves this place. It would be selfish of me to expect her to pack her bags and enter my crazy world of flashing cameras and salacious headlines after knowing me for just a week.
But now that she hates me, I guess the decision has been made for me.
I’m leaving.
Chapter 27
Brianna
“I’m sorry, Miss Sayles,” says the interviewer over the phone. I didn’t want to take the call, but I had to. “While your qualifications are excellent, we’ve decided on another candidate at this time. We’ll keep your application on file if there is another opening.”
“Okay, thank you for your time,” I whisper, trying to be polite as I hang up the phone.
I was hoping to get that job at Petersen and Associates so I could just quit and tell Vandenburgh to go fuck himself. I thought I had it in the bag. I knew the manager I’d be working for. I took a class with him. But now, that’s no good.
Jesus. I don’t know if I can deal with this anymore.
What does it matter anyway? I only have so much time before school is over and I’m gone.
At least Gavin is gone tomorrow so I don’t have to worry about running into his ass again. Still, just thinking his name makes me clutch my hand to my chest. It hurts. I hate to admit it, but I don’t want him to go. Deep down in my gut, I want him to stay.
But there is no other way. The man couldn’t give up his entire career for me. That was a fool’s dream anyway. I don’t know why I ever deluded myself into thinking that. This is real life, not some Disney movie where the knight and the princess end up in a Happily Ever After with a talking cat.
The dark cloud on my chest has me wanting to talk to someone. Anyone. I know Mindy is out of the question right now. She’s still at work. So I dial the only person I think I might be able to trust with my problems.
“Hello?” asks the familiar, high-pitched voice on the other end of the line. It’s been months, but the voice hasn’t changed at all. It still sounds like a woman who’s on the edge of freaking out.
“Mom,” I breathe. My mother, Cindy Sayles, is a woman who has aged well, and I’m surprised she hasn’t remarried. She’s a serial dater since the divorce. I guess most men aren’t willing to put up with her nagging personality once they get past the still tight 48-year-old body.
“Bri! Where have you been, girl? It’s been months since you last called me!”
“I know,” I say. “I’ve been very busy.”
“Doing what? Tipping cows? We all know that little town is boring as all get out.”
I stiffen. This is why I don't like talking to my mother. She has about as much empathy as a brick, and it’s obvious she thinks she’s better now than the place she grew up in, and that bothers me.
“Tipping cows is a lot more fun than being stuck in traffic,” I say, trying to keep a lid on my temper.
“Oh, Bri, you always have to be so passive-aggressive. I was just worried about you,” Mom says. “I miss you, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I say softly, my anger evaporating. “How are things out there in the city?”
“I’m loving it. I still wish you’d come and be here with me. Was it really worth staying there?”
Before, I would have answered yes in a heartbeat. But now . . . now, I don’t know what to think about my decision to stay here with the heartache that I feel. “I think so.”
“You don’t sound like you believe what you’re saying,” Mom says. There's a long pause where I think she wants me to reply before she continues. “Everything all right over there? Do you need me to have your father sen
d you money?”
I suck in a breath. My mom is forever thinking problems can be solved by money. Preferably, someone else’s money. Sure, money is nice, but I’m too prideful to take handouts. I would’ve accepted Gavin’s money if I wasn’t, even if it hurts that I gave it back. There was so much I could’ve done with that money.
“No, I’m fine,” I finally reply. “Plus, I wouldn't want you to worry Dad on my behalf.”
Mom sighs in relief. “Heaven knows I didn't want to, trust me. If he can ever stop long enough to dig his little winky out of his little homewrecking whore—”
“Mom, please don't!” I interrupt, knowing she’s about to go into a rant about my dad and his mistress. I can’t right now.
“You know, sometimes, I feel like you take your daddy’s side over me. Even after all he did to us.”
Ugh. I hate how she always twists things. “Mom, you know how I feel about what happened. And you know I don't like how things turned out between you guys. I just . . .”
“You just what?”
“I just can’t deal with any of this right now.”
“And you’re sure you're okay?” Mom asks.
Of course I’m not good, I think to myself. That's why I called. But I’m not gonna get any help from this quarter. “As good as I’ll ever be.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Mom asks, confused.
I don’t have the energy to explain now. At least I got to hear a familiar voice. “I’m gonna go, Mom. I’ll make sure to keep in touch. Love you.”
“Bri, wait!”
I hang up the phone and let out a deep breath. I knew I shouldn't have called her. I always end up feeling bad. I just feel so vulnerable and in need of . . .
Gavin.
But Gavin is leaving tomorrow. I’ll never see him again. That letter I wrote to him made sure of that. The thought hurts, but I need to get used to it.
My phone rings, and I almost hit the hang up button to ignore Mom when my finger freezes. It’s Mindy. Talk about an angel.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey, chica, why’d you run off like that today?” Mindy asks, her voice concerned. “I was almost free.”
Please, girl, that line was as long as Gavin’s dick, I think inwardly.
“I got tired of waiting,” I lie through my teeth. “Plus, Vandenburgh was around tooting his horn. I didn’t want to see him.”
“Well, I’m on break now so I have time to talk. What was on your mind?”
I’m tight-lipped. “Nothing.”
“Yes, there was,” Mindy says, her lie detector at full strength even though it’s the phone. Damn. “You looked all sad and sullen.”
I sigh. “I’ve just been filling out these damn applications. I’m tired and stressed, that’s all.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “I know it’s something more than that. Come on, Bri.”
I can’t bring myself to reply. It hurts too much.
“Gavin came lookin’ for you,” Mindy says suddenly.
The mention of his name catches my breath. “And?” I’m sitting on pins and needles waiting for her response.
“He was all banged up,” Mindy says, “and seemed pretty worried about you.”
My heart skips a beat. “All banged up? What’s that mean?”
I can almost hear her nod through the phone. “Yeah. He had a bandage wrapped around his head. Told me he fell and hit his head on set, but I already knew that before he told me. I was trying to tell you about it before you ran out on me.”
Pain pierces my chest. Now I feel terrible for not stopping and listening to Mindy. At the time, I was too wrapped up in my emotions and annoyed by all the people.
Gavin must feel terrible that I didn’t check on him. I know I would.
“But he seemed all right though?” I ask worriedly.
Mindy laughs. “Yeah, girl. I can tell you’re freaking out over it, but he’s fine.” Mindy pauses. “He was more concerned with seeing you, actually.”
A feeling of relief washes over me. At least it was nothing serious. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if it were. “Worried about me?”
I wonder if he found the note I left him before or after he talked to Mindy.
“Yeah,” Mindy replies. “I can tell he was really hurt. Probably because you hadn’t called to see how he was doing.” She pauses for a moment and I hear her suck in a deep breath. “Don’t bite my head off, but will you please tell me what happened between you two? You both have been acting like lost puppies. Is it just because he’s leaving tomorrow?”
That’s a major part of it.
I part my lips to reply but pause, a heavy feeling weighing down my chest. I want to tell her everything, but it’s hard because of the feelings it brings up.
Taking a deep breath, I tell her everything—about the sex, the dates, all of it.
Mindy pauses, processing it all. “I really think you should talk to him, Bri,” Mindy says. “I don’t think he meant anything by leaving you that money. And if he’s leaving, don’t let him go like this. You’ll both regret it.”
“What’s there to say?” I ask. “It’s just going to make everything harder. This was all a waste of time.”
“I don’t think it was,” Mindy argues. “You both had an experience and enjoyed each other. That counts for something.”
“Maybe he would come visit from time to time?” Mindy offers when I don’t reply. “Or maybe even stay?”
I snort in disbelief. “I won’t be some small-town booty call that he can stop in for. And he can’t stay. He has obligations.”
“Well, with how he was acting the other day and the way he looked today when he came in to ask about you . . . I wouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
I huff out a mirthless chuckle. “You’re more delusional than I was when I first started having feelings for him.”
“You don’t have to believe it,” Mindy tells me. “I just know what I saw.”
I go silent, biting my lower lip in thought.
“I just want you to be happy, Bri,” Mindy continues, her voice filled with concern.
That’s gonna be really fucking hard with Gavin gone.
I sigh. “I know, and I thank you, Mindy. But I need to go. I’m emotionally exhausted.”
Mindy’s voice is aching with emotion. “Okay. Please, just take care of yourself. I know you really liked Gavin, but you can't let this wind up ruining your life.”
I hang up the phone feeling even worse than I felt getting off the phone with Mom.
Chapter 28
Gavin
“Mr. Adams, what would you say about your first filming experience?” asks the reporter. He’s a tall, balding man dressed in a grey suit with a slight lisp. After five nonstop questions from him, it’s becoming irritating.
I put on a tight smile, doing my best to stay cool as repeated flashes go off in my face, the room filled with sounds of clicking cameras. “It was amazing,” I say with a cheer I don’t feel. “It was a great experience.”
“We heard about your injury,” says another reporter, a chubby man in jeans and a t-shirt, his Cowboys hat on backward. “Are you okay?”
A stab of pain lances between my eyes, and it’s an effort to maintain my smile. “I’m fine,” I reply, wiggling my eyebrows. “Just a little bump. Nothing a little Tylenol won’t fix.”
“Mr. Adams,” the first reporter says, “there are rumors that you started up an off-screen romance with your co-star, Leslie Hart. Is there anything you want to say to that?”
Now I have no problem faking my smile. The rumor is so absurd that I wonder what sort of Internet troll even tried to come up with it. “There’s nothing to say,” I say easily. “Leslie and I are co-workers, and she has always been professional with me. Whoever started that rumor is wrong.”
“Mr. Adams,” the same reporter asks, his voice causing me to grit my teeth. “Do you think doing this movie will make people forget about the Anaconda
video?”
Always, always, always. Everything always comes back to that damn video. This time, though, I don’t get angry. I don’t feel capable. I just feel . . . dead inside.
“I certainly hope so,” I say finally, flashing a wink and nodding my head at the crowd of reporters. “Thank you, but I’ve gotta get to offseason workouts.”
“Okay, that will be all,” Miranda says at my side as I rise to my feet. “Gavin is done taking questions now. He’ll be signing a few autographs in the lobby for a few minutes and then we have to catch our flight. Thank you.”
The crowd rushes forward, taking pictures, each flashbulb stinging my eyes and making my head throb a little bit more. I keep the smile on my face, ignoring the flashes even though I feel like shit. Security holds back most of the crowd as we make it into the hallway of the press venue.
“I think that’s the best I’ve seen you do while we’ve been here,” Miranda says out of the side of her mouth. “What’s changed?”
I did my best at faking it, I think to myself. Truth be told, I’m in a nasty fucking mood. Nothing they said mattered. It was just a couple of minutes and it all seems like a blur to me. I don’t even know what I said.
“Just glad to be done with all of this,” I finally say. “Football time.”
“I’m glad too,” Miranda says as we reach the lobby where a small crowd waits. “I’m not sure I could’ve taken much more of airhead Gavin.”
Before I can reply, I’m swarmed by a wall of clamoring fans. It’s hard to keep the smile on my face, but I do it, signing a few t-shirts, books, and posters. I politely answer questions and pose for pictures, wanting it to end as fast as possible. The line of people seems endless, and after a while, I begin to get dizzy from all the stimuli surrounding me.
Suddenly, I’m caught off guard when one girl presses herself against my side, causing a hiss of warning from Miranda.
“Is your anaconda as big as they say it is?” she asks. Obviously a bimbo groupie, she has big tits and a low skirt. Her t-shirt is hand-cut in a V to show even more of her surgically enhanced cleavage.
Anaconda: A Sexy Romantic Comedy Page 18