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“It’s The Money Pit. I don’t understand how he can live here. And then, this morning, get this, I wake up to loud banging and find him looking like Thunder From Down Under, going crazy at the wall with a sledgehammer. I was about to go grab some singles until he turned around.”
“Ethan? My Ethan? We’re talking about the same person?”
“Yes. And slow your roll, you greedy grubster, he’s not yours. You wanted Shrek and now you’ve got him. That one’s yours. Good luck, by the way.”
“I do love me some Shrek,” she replies chuckling.
“Your husband hates me.”
“He does not hate you.”
“Is this going to turn into Sophie’s Choice somewhere down the road? Don’t send me to the killers.”
“No one is going to the killers. Not even Parker unfortunately.”
Dressed in the bath towel, I’m pacing, restlessly walking in circles, because even as I’m talking to Camilla the scene at the party, with Parker so innocently, so nonchalantly telling me how in love he is keeps playing on a loop like the worst horror movie I can imagine.
In the shower, it came to me, the reason I flipped out at the party. It wasn’t so much that it bothered me that Parker’s in love and ready to live his happily ever after. No matter what, I would never begrudge anyone a chance at happiness. It was that he managed to make me lose trust in myself, in my own judgment. And all I keep thinking now is––what if I’m wrong about everything?
“She’s a model,” comes ripping out of me. “How original, right?”
“Was she there? Did you see her?”
“No. She was somewhere important doing some important stuff. That’s not even the bad part. He finally got funded on the script we developed together and he’s giving her the lead role. And he had the gall to tell me TO MY FACE that she’s the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Flopping down on my makeshift bed, I absently stare at the water stain on the ceiling. It takes the shape of my ex-douchebag’s face and mocks me. “That’s when I started flipping chafing dishes Jersey style. He basically called the two years we were together a mistake, that we were incompatible because of my abrasive personality, and it would be career suicide to work together.” I scoff. “Oh––and he expects me to be happy for him. He actually said those words. He said if I ever cared about him, I would be happy for him. Fucker thinks he’s the Dali Lama.”
“I never liked him.”
It’s cold, a palpable draft swirling through the room. Shivering, I get up and drop the damp towel while I search in vain through my suitcase for my sweats. “I won’t fare well as a prison bitch. You know I won’t. My mouth will get me into trouble, and within a week someone will have me collared and calling me Sparkles.”
My hands are shaking and it’s not from the cold.
“That’s not going to happen. Ethan, Cal and I won’t let it. You’re not alone.” Camilla’s voice is fierce, her inner lioness coming through loud and clear. “Fucking Parker. I swear I’m going to get a voodoo doll and put a hex on his peanuts.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“What are friends for?”
“To put hexes on exs?”
“Yup. I have to make dinner. Call you mañana.”
“Sure.”
Tossing my iPhone on the mattress, I turn and blanche. Across the open bathroom door, Vaughn stares back at me, his steady gaze unblinking. With a squeak, I grab the towel and cover my bare cooch.
Busted.
Chapter Six
The next morning I roll out of bed, jam my slippers on, and shuffle down to the kitchen. Even though I’m barely conscious, I’m smirking. I haven’t seen Fancy since I caught him staring at me naked.
So I forgot to close my side of the bathroom door, so what? Arrest me for being too preoccupied with the rest of my life to remember to shut a freaking door.
How long he was standing there, I’ll never know. Although judging by the fire on his cheekbones that I noticed when I walked to the door and slammed it in his face, I suspect it was longer than was absolutely necessary.
Do I give a hoot that he saw me naked? No. In my line of work my body is an instrument. If I was at all self-conscious, I wouldn’t have a chance in hell of making it in this business. I’m just glad I remembered to shave, otherwise there would’ve been a lot to be embarrassed about. Single girl shaving habits, if you get my drift.
A distinct male voice drifts up the staircase.
“Cedric, listen to me closely, you need to chill out. I promise you I’ll get you everything you asked for…did I say everything? Yeah, I did…all you have to do is not fuck things up with any more negative press––”
