"I'll be here for six weeks." I can't believe I have to say something so obvious.
"Most of the cast brings less than this for the entire summer."
"I'm not most of the cast."
He looks me up and down. "No, you're not. I just hope you're worth it. Grayson has been one of my best friends since we were five. The Edison means everything to him. I hope you're here for them and not for you."
Maria glances at me, raising an eyebrow. I don't respond. Even as we load all the luggage into the back of the SUV and I buckle Paisley in, I still don't say anything.
Mostly because I don't know what to say.
I don't know why I'm here.
I mean, I do.
I'm here for a guy. But it's too pitiful and sad to admit that I have to chase someone—who's barely said three words to me since we slept together—across the country. Have I ever mentioned I'm a slow learner? Have I also mentioned that I can't handle rejection?
At first I was attracted to Henderson because he didn't fawn all over me. Now I'm desperate to make him fawn all over me. Well, desperate is a strong word. I mean, it's not the only reason I'm doing this.
I've got to do something. In truth, I have no idea what. But without an agent pounding the pavement for me, I was at a loss for what to do next. Since the accident, the press has been all over Jonathan Spencer Maxwell, looking for a scoop and a story. Paisley would be the scoop of the year. I want to keep her far, far away from the media circus surrounding him. He's back in LA, so moving Paisley to the other side of the country seems like the best way to separate the two of them.
I don't know how he's doing—not really any more details than what's been reported; that the recovery has been, and will be, long. Maybe I should have reached out or something. I don't know. I haven't heard from him at all. It's all been from Anastasia. She didn't even bat an eye when I told her I'd be in New York for six weeks. Normally she's the stickler for the visits.
But if she's not going to put up a fight, then I should run with this. I'm not going to beg them to see my daughter. I'm done begging.
I think she really loves my kid, which is more than most women can say of their baby daddy's wife. Especially considering she was his wife when he became my baby daddy. Still, there's something I don't trust. Like maybe she's being nice in order to control what I say and do.
It's not like she can be nice just because she's nice. No one in Hollywood is like that. Everyone wants something. The only currency I have is sex and my child. I'm not willing to give either to Anastasia Jerome, so I do my best to stay on her good side.
It's why I took the past four years off from being a celebrity. I just didn't think the world would forget about me so soon.
It's a terrible feeling.
Maybe that's another reason why I'm so desperate—er, eager—for Henderson to want me. I used to think Angie was crazy for going to extremes to stay in front of an audience. With her Broadway shows andHollywood Dance Off!she ran herself ragged trying to be relevant.
At the time, post-Sassy Cats, I didn't understand where that need came from. On the other hand, I was doing television appearances and out on the social scene, so my face was never far from the spotlight. And now, I just feel … invisible. The only person who sees me is Paisley.
We're on a highway that is practically deserted. I mean, there are cars, but the traffic's moving at a clip unheard of in LA. Then suddenly, the road narrows to three small lanes as we cross a river. And now there's green. There are tree-covered mountains in front of us and fewer and fewer cars.
"Is traffic always like this?"
"Nah," Kyle throws over his shoulder. "It's the busy time. All the state workers are getting out."
"Thatwas traffic?"
I see him shrug. "I mean, sometimes there's an accident that causes it to really pile up, but yeah. Oh, that's right. You're from California. I guess this is a little different."
We're, like, in the middle of nowhere already. We only left the airport twenty minutes ago and now we're in … farmland? The roads twist and turn and there are honest-to-God red barns and cows.
"Look! Paisley! Look at the cows. Moo! Moo!"
I'm mooing.
Paisley squeals and stretches her neck, practically standing up on her booster in order to get a better view. "Horses too, Mommy!"
And now I'm making neighing noises.
If they could see me now.
