“She’s writing a tell-all book.”
“What?”
White flecks of toothpaste spray out of my mouth and hit the mirror. I choke a little as some of it goes down my throat. Gag. Minty death.
I turn to Luke in horror, wiping at my foamy mouth with a towel. “When did you—what did y—uh…why? Why would she do that?”
Luke fills the doorway of the bathroom, his forearms braced against the doorjamb next to his head. His expression is dark and furious. He shrugs at my garbled question. “Fuck if I know. I talked to her last week, and she seemed fine. She was even talking about meeting up for lunch one day. Now she’s threatening to do the talk show circuit and write a book about my fucked-up childhood.”
“Oh, shit,” I mumble through my toothbrush. I fastidiously continue to brush my teeth. I am a monster.
“Yeah,” Luke agrees with a bitter half smile. “Shit.”
When I’m done, I wipe off the mirror with a towel before turning to Luke. “Well, you have a team of lawyers at your disposal,” I say. “I’m sure there’s something Brian can do to shut her up. Or, you know, there’s always Zig and his crew…”
He flashes me a disbelieving look. “I’m not sending those guys after my mom, Tiger.”
He turns away from me and walks into the bedroom. I follow him out, watching as he drops down onto the edge of the bed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. I hate that distant look of hurt in his eyes as he stares straight ahead. This is my fault, damn it.
I stand in front of him, my arms folded over my stomach. “There are non-violent ways to stop her. Baby, you’re the most influential person in Hollywood right now—no one will want to piss you off. You know what I mean? Put the word out. Anyone who talks to her will make an enemy of you.”
Luke doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he starts to chuckle. “You make me sound like a mafia don, or something. Shit, Tiger, she can talk to whoever she wants. I really don’t give a fuck.”
“Uh…what?”
“Don’t get me wrong; I like my privacy. You know I do. But I don’t have anything to hide. I grew up poor trash—so what? I’m not ashamed of that.”
“Yeah, but…she’ll probably reveal really…intimate details about your family. Like, shocking things—for entertainment purposes. You’ve always been so vague to the media about your past, so they won’t be surprised if you’re hiding something big. Huge, even.”
“Yeah, that was Jess’ idea. She created this whole mysterious image for me; she said the less everyone knew about me the better.” Luke rubs his elbow absently. “My mom’s looking to cash in on my name—that’s her choice. I’m not going to stop her.”
“But…what if she says something that could hurt your career?” I hedge, trying not to wring my hands together. “You said you don’t know much about your relatives—what if you’re great-great-grandfather was a Nazi, or something?”
“Then I’ll make a big donation to the local synagogues. I don’t know, Tiger. I’ll deal with it.”
“Hey.” I take his face in the palms of my hands, and force him to look at me. “You’re hurting.”
“No,” he says almost too quickly. He grasps my wrists pushing them down to my sides and holding them there. “I was waiting for her to pull something like this. I’m just surprised that it took this long.”
I bite my lip hard. A heavy pain settles in my chest. So many secrets kept from him, by people with their own agenda. And I’m one of them. I so badly want to tell him everything, but…how? He sees me as honest; he trusts me. I’m a coward. I’d have to tell him about my relatively huge part in this mess, and I don’t know how he’d react to that. He’s so frigged up about his mom. God, I hate that woman.
That perfect moment to come clean ends. Luke grips my hips and abruptly draws me closer. He buries his face in my stomach while I run my hands through his soft hair, desperately thinking of a way to get out of this mess without resorting to murder.
I can’t come up with shit.
Luke is hanging out with Nate and his L.A. crew tonight—and guess who I’m stuck with? Miss I’m-in-love-with-your-boyfriend Kat. I don’t know what’s with this girl lately. She’s been up our asses since Damon’s party, constantly calling, texting, and wanting to hang out. She’s actually being the cool chick I once thought she was, even when Luke’s not around. She’s up to something. To make matters worse, the press have been dogging our every move. I don’t even want to know what they’re writing about the three of us hanging out together.
We’re having a late night snack at a super trendy sushi restaurant/bar with the most uncomfortable chairs that my butt has ever had the misfortune to be acquainted with. The sushi, however, is supposed to be delicious. I haven’t touched my food; my stomach is tied in knots, worrying about Luke. He hasn’t called or texted me all night, which is not like him. I hope he’s not doing anything crazy.
I’m exhausted. Kat and I are having a competition to see who can be the most passive-aggressive. I think she’s winning, but only because I’m off my game. This is torture—for her, too, I’m sure. But she seems determined for us to be friends. We give up trying to look for common ground and instead start talking about the other customers in the neon blue-lit restaurant. If we don’t recognize them (lots of famous folks eat here), then we make up shit about them for our own amusement.
“I think you’re wrong,” Kat is saying, staring hard at the glamourous blonde woman sitting a few tables away from us. “I don’t think she’s trying to hold one in. It’s a botched face lift. Believe me; I’ve seen plenty of those in my time.”
“But look at the way she’s squirming in her seat,” I argue. Then I reconsider. “Maybe she has a wedgie.”
“Or crabs,” Kat says with a shrug.
We look at each other, and then scoot our seats a few inches away from the glamourous blonde’s table, like that would matter.
Kat glances down at her phone lying on the table next to her drink. She keeps checking it every couple of minutes. It’s constantly ringing, beeping, and lighting up but she only looks to see who it is before ignoring it. I fleetingly wonder if it’s Luke trying to get ahold of her—but then quickly decide that’s a paranoid path I’d rather not venture down.
She sighs and fidgets with her hair, glancing around the restaurant. Finally, she settles down, leaning forward in her chair and directing her piercing blue eyes on me. “So, Lucas seemed kind of tense when I talked to him earlier. Is everything okay with him?”
“Um, yeah.” I take a small sip of my soda. “It’s just…I think his back is still hurting him, and he doesn’t want to admit it.”
Kat rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s so stubborn. Once, he broke a couple of ribs doing a stunt—and he never said a word until we had wrapped for the day! I had to practically tie him to the bed to get him to rest.”
I try hard to keep the frown off my face. I hate when she brings up past events that remind me of her longer history with him. She does it in a sneaky way, too. All big-eyed innocence. Makes me want to hurl all over my delicious sushi.
I stab a crab roll with my chopstick. “He can’t be hurt that bad,” I say shortly. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do the things he does in the bedroom.”
Kat flinches just a little. I catch actual pain in her eyes before she looks away. Her obviously genuine feelings for Luke threaten the hell out of me.
She quickly recovers herself, and turns back to me with a smirk-y little smile. “Oh, yeah,” she purrs. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. We just had that one night together, but it was…amazing! All four times.”
That little liar! I fake a look of horror. “I was talking about him lifting weights. He keeps his barbells in our room.”
She’s too worldly to let my immaturity affect her. She just rolls her eyes. "I thought we agreed to be friends for Lucas' sake."
I frown, trying to remember if I did agree to that. "Look, you wann
a hang out with Luke, fine. But do it on your own time. We don't have to be a happy threesome."
"But we could be," she says softly.
Um. What?
"The hell you say!" Shocked, I glare at Kat in all her blonde bombshell glory. "That’s disgusting! Why would you even?"
She makes an impatient clucking sound with her tongue. “Don't be so provincial, Andi. A lot of my friends are into it, and it works for them. And you’re downright naïve if you think the three of us together has never crossed Lucas’ mind.”
Her words elicit a painful sensation in my chest because what if she’s right? Familiar insecurities rear their ugly head. Luke is into threesomes—just ask the Bikini Twins.
Not for the first time, I find myself overwhelmed with doubts about my relationship with Luke. Why are we even together? How could we possibly make it work between us? All we ever do is fight and have sex. I mean, that’s enough for me—but what about Luke? He thinks he’s in love with me…but why? Does it have something to do with his mommy issues?
Eventually, I realize that Kat is waiting for me to say something. I hate her. I hate the thought that I could be Luke’s stepping stone on to a perfect relationship with her.
“I don’t share,” I say finally, struggling to keep the emotional turmoil out of my voice. “I thought you didn’t, either.”
She looks away, smoothing a piece of bright hair behind one ear. “I’m willing to make some concessions,” she says. “You have to be realistic, you know. I’ve talked to some friends—women who have been in the business for a while—and they all say the same thing: expecting your actor boyfriend to be faithful to you is about as ridiculous as telling him ‘no candy,’ then sending him off to work in a candy store.”
I shake my head. “Luke is different,” I say stubbornly.
Kat gives me a direct look. “You’re right, he is. Lucas is special. But do you really think someone like you is enough for him?”
This is where I reach across the table and calmly smash her face into her plate full of sashimi.
In my head, I do this. In reality, she’s saved by the bell. I accept the call without looking to see who it's from. “What?!” I snap while glaring at Kat.
"Hey, Andi," Nate greets me. "Not to alarm you or anything, but—how soon can you get your ass down to Romey’s garage? We have problems."
I instantly lose my scowl as I focus on the quiet alarm in his voice. "What's going on? Why are you at the garage? I thought you were guys were running the bar circuit tonight."
“That was the plan. Then your boy, Luke agreed to race a dude named Manslaughter. That’s his last name, by the way. I think his first name is Vehicular.”
“Shit,” I say sharply, ignoring Kat’s concerned looks. “Is he drunk? Luke, I mean.”
“Not exactly…but he’s had a few.”
Nate’s voice gets quieter as the noises in the background change, like’s he moving around. I can hear the deafening sounds of a motor revving and people cheering before it fades away as Nate passes by.
“Romey’s heard of this dude and he’s bad news, kid,” Nate speaks rapidly, his voice coming in much clearer. “He’s got a rep for driving dirty—like running his opponents into buildings and shit. That’s what he got busted for. The guy he was racing—there wasn’t enough left of him to bury. Manslaughter just got out and he’s about busting a nut wanting to re-establish himself. And what better way to do that than by challenging Lucas Fucking Greyson?”
“Put him on the phone, Nate,” I demand furiously. “I want to talk to him.”
“Uh-uh, that’s not going to cut it. He’s way past that point. You have to get down here, Andi. This isn’t going to end well. You know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.” I’m already gathering my stuff together. “I’m coming.”
After hanging up with Nate, I mumble a goodbye to Kat, and with no explanation, I practically run out of the restaurant.
“Is Lucas okay?”
Kat keeps pace beside me as I dart through the paparazzi loitering at the entrance. They immediately point their cameras at us and start clicking away while shouting our names. I barely notice, fueled by a very real sense of urgency.
I suddenly remember that Kat drove us here. She grabs my arm, and with surprising strength hauls me back into the restaurant. She leads me to a side door that exits directly into the parking lot. We quickly get in to her Mercedes SUV, and I try to keep the panic out of my voice as I tell her how to get to Romeo’s garage.
I have such a bad feeling, like a prescience sense of doom. I briefly explain the situation to Kat, and her face pales. She knows Luke well enough to be worried—which makes me even more worried. Our fears feed off of each other, and we start freaking out.
“What the hell is he thinking?” she says in a clipped tone. “We’re supposed to be in Wilmington in a couple of days! If he gets hurt…”
I couldn’t care less about their stupid movie. My throat is dry, and I sit at the edge of my seat like it will make us go faster. I don’t have to tell Kat to hurry—she’s already going fifteen over the speed limit. I pray we don’t get pulled over. I pray we make it in time, and that I can talk some sense into Luke. Barring that, I pray for the strength and stealth to catch him off guard and knock him unconscious until the madness passes. Maybe Kat will help me.
Romeo “Romey” Monterro’s garage is this huge dingy looking warehouse that no one would ever expect to house two and a half million dollars worth of high performance vehicles. It would seem an extremely odd choice for Luke to store his precious car collection—but if you could see the huge inked up Romey, you would understand why no one would dare mess with his garage.
Luke, Nate, and a bunch of other guys are crowded around the front of a sleek and shiny cobalt blue car with its hood popped up. A girl I don’t recognize is behind the wheel, revving the engine, and making it purr like a big jungle cat. The air in here is poisoned with the smell of oil, exhaust fumes, and testosterone.
Luke’s face brightens when he sees me, Nate looks relieved—and the other guys are too busy gawking at Kat to notice me. Luke strides over, and pulls me in for a toe-curling panty-melting kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and hard liquor.
“Hey, what brings you guys here?” he asks, grinning because he has to hold me up afterwards. I can tell from his slightly flushed complexion that, while he’s not quite there yet, he is well on his way to being shitfaced. Or maybe he’s drunk on adrenaline, hopefully.
Before I can gather up the brain cells to answer him, he turns away to greet Kat. He introduces her to the crew, and I guess her celebrity status and perfect body are enough to distract the boys away from their toy. I can tell that she’s annoyed that they’re inadvertently keeping her away from Luke, though she tries to hide it behind a professional smile. She keeps glancing back at us, barely noticing that the massive Romey has her arm, and isn’t giving it back. I half hope that he’ll just pick her up and walk off into the sunset. She’d be okay. I’m pretty sure Luke wouldn’t hang out with a rapist.
I catch the significant look Nate flashes in my direction. I nod subtly at him. I grab Luke’s hand and tug on it. “Baby, can I talk to you?” I ask him quietly.
I tow him slightly away from the others, over to another car covered by a black tarp. He half sits on the hood, crossing his arms over his chest. God, he looks so fucking sexy and masculine right now, with his muscled forearms streaked with grease. Sweet vagina, I could just climb up on the hood of that car with him and—
Focus, Andi.
“What’s up, Tiger?” Luke prompts me, raising his eyebrows at me questioningly.
“I hear you’re racing a guy named Manslaughter.” I get right to it, fixing him with my most disapproving look. “What the hell, Luke?! You’ve been drinking. You never accept a challenge unless you’re stone cold sober.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he says with an easy shrug. “I’ve run that road so many times I can do it in my sleep. It’s
a flat wide road and a straight shot. Nothing out there but warehouses.”
“Yeah, and you’re a great driver, I know that. But this guy, Manslaughter—”
“He’s just a punk ass loser trying to build a hard rep for himself,” Luke cuts in impatiently. “Hey, what’s with you? You know I got this, right? This is hardly the most dangerous thing I’ve done, by far.”
“I know.” I shake my head. “But I have a bad feeling. Just…don’t do it okay? Call it off? For me.”
I give him the big sad eyes, but to no avail. He shakes his head. “I promise—I can handle this. It will be over in three minutes. C’mere.”
Luke cocks a finger at me, gesturing for me to come closer. I do, and he wraps his arms around me, and kisses the top of my head. “You’re worrying for nothing, Tiger.”
I sink into his embrace, letting his warm strength reassure me. But that nagging feeling won’t go away. I extricate myself from his arms and look up at him.
“Seriously, don’t do this,” I try again. “You’re drunk, and you’re pissed about your mom. You’re not in any condition to drive to the grocery store—let alone do Mach one against a dude who went to prison for killing the guy he challenged before you. Seriously, why isn’t he banned from the races?”
I shouldn’t have mentioned his mom. Irritation flashes in his eyes as he scowls down at me. “I’m not drunk, and I’m not pissed about my mom. I am starting to get a little pissed at you, though. I’m not backing out, okay? It’s already been set up, and if I pull out now I won’t be able to race a Go-Kart in this town.”
“Okay—but what if you had a really good excuse? Like a broken leg?”
“I don’t have a broken leg.”
“Not yet,” I mutter ominously.
He thinks I’m joking, which bothers me. Before I can say anything else, the girl who was gunning the engine comes up to us. I don’t know her name because she got out of the car and left after Luke kissed me. I notice right away how hot she is, with gorgeous magenta-dyed hair and porcelain skin. She’s got multiple piercings in her eyebrows, nose, and pouty red lips. The skintight girl punk shirt and jeans she's wearing showcase a figure made up of lush curves. Just looking at her I can tell she's the type of chick that's one of the guys—but also a FILF (friend I’d like to fu—lfill). I really want to know if she and Luke have ever hooked up, but I'm pretty sure I won't like the answer.
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