Page 60 of Burn the Script

As he takes the next exit, I dig through my backpack and find the makeup palette either Tatum or Maisy left at my house years ago. Maisy never has to know I’m using expired eyeshadow to enhance the dark circles beneath my eyes.

When I swung by my house earlier, I threw on a wrinkled button-down and grabbed a necktie. The right costume makes a big difference, and I have an important role to play: heartbroken ex. Art is truly imitating life, in my case.

The scene near San Antonio’s River Walk district can only be described as chaos. Local law enforcement attempts to control the fans wielding posters and signs with Makenzie’s name on them. My driver navigates the car through the crowd, bypassing the parking garage, and stops outside the hotel’s main entrance.

“Are you kidding me?” I whisper, arranging the tie loosely around my neck so it looks as disheveled as my hair. No one mentioned I’d have to fight my way inside.

A swell of cheers rolls through the crowd when hired muscle in a black suit opens my door. It’s showtime. When I exit the car, I duck my head, trying to dodge the painful cacophony of fans crying and screaming my name. They believe they’re witnessing a romantic, Hollywood fairy tale in real time. Little do they know, I’m the red herring in an elaborate game of sleight of hand, one designed to get Tatum back to Walford undetected.

Aside from grabby hands brushing my clothes, the two-person security detail escorts me through the human funnel and into the hotel without any incidents. The guy who opened the car door sticks with me until I’m stepping off the elevator and standing outside a corner suite. He even hands me the room key.

With a deep breath, I swipe the card and push into the room, spreading my arms wide. “Your hero has arrived! Pardon the delay, I had trouble parking my trusty steed.”

My eyes find Tatum first, and I can’t stomach the forlorn look on her face. I pull her into my arms and give her a peck on the neck before whispering in her ear. “I expect a full report of last night’s activities, minus the great sex.” She’s half-smiling when I lean back and point to my face. “Don’t mess up my makeup.”

The scowling man standing by the window catches my notice next. He has short, wavy dark hair, green eyes, and cowboy boots that have seen better days. He’s also the grouchiest dude I’ve ever met.

I give him a curt nod. “Jake.”

“What is this?” he asks in his rough, raspy voice. “And how does everyone have a key to our room?”

I shrug as he glares at the evidence in my hand.

Marcus answers from his command center at the dining table. “A distraction. The media loves a good story. Heartbroken ex shows up to win the girl.”

“How does that help us?” Jake turns his glare on him, but Marcus hasn’t looked up from his phone.

“We divert their attention. They saw him walk into the hotel, looking like he hasn’t slept all night, so they’ll wait with bated breath to see if he emerges alone or with his prize on his arm. Meanwhile, you sneak out the back.”

“A red herring,” Jake mutters to no one in particular.

“Exactly.” Done with that conversation, Marcus returns to his problem solving.

I join him and Judge near the table while Jake drops onto the sofa, looking more remorseful and disheartened by the second as he scrolls through his phone. I can only imagine what’s being said about him online. Even a minute of fame isn’t for the faint-hearted. And from what Tatum has told me, Jake has a sensitive heart beneath the grumpy armor. Sort of like Miguel.

Tatum crawls into Jake’s lap, and they have a hushed conversation. Hours ago, Miguel was in my lap. I waited over a year for that orgasm and didn’t get to stick around for his brand of aftercare. Blueberry muffin would’ve looked so good on me.

The sacrifices I make for my friends.

I shift my focus to Marcus, Judge, and the task at hand. With Tatum’s career on hold, the cousins have been working freelance security gigs to stay busy.

“What’s the plan?” I ask.

Marcus runs a palm across the top of his bald head. “Tatum will leave in the same car as you. We’ll make the switch at the airport. She’ll ride with us to Walford, and your driver will take you to Austin. It’s not a long drive, a little over an hour.”

“Guess I’ll be taking another nap,” I mutter. “What about Jake?”

“Not my fucking problem.”

Damn.

I peek at Judge to see if he shares Marcus’s sentiments. He’s nonspeaking, but I’ve learned to read his facial expressions and body language in the five years I’ve known him. Right now, he’s staring at Jake like he wants to toss him out the window and see if he can fly home.

The couple making out on the sofa doesn’t stop to breathe until Judge joins them, breaking up their little love session. With a straight face, he drags a finger across his neck, and Jake’s eyes go wide. I laugh. Judge looks like a tough guy, but he’s a teddy bear with a giant soft spot for Tatum.

“Judge, leave him alone,” she says, smiling at his false threats.

A yawn comes from my left. It’s been a few months since Marcus has bopped around in different time zones.