Page 38 of False Promises

Savannah shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know it existed ten minutes ago.”

“I’m aware Bellagio doesn’t give the trendy Los Angeles vibe, but I swear the menu is exquisite.” I searched her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

She bit her lower lip before saying, “Yes.” And a warm feeling spread through me. Right now, Savannah resembled the woman I met at the movie premiere in New York more than the temptress she turned into in her hotel room later that night. Studying her folding and unfolding the cloth napkin on the table, looking nervous, I had a hard time believing these two women lived in the same body. And once again, I felt protective of her. She would get eaten up by the big bad wolves of Hollywood in one bite if she didn’t improve the confidence she projected.

“How was your show last night?” she asked after I ordered a bottle of red and the server poured her a glass while I stuck to water on the rocks.

“Awesome. The energy was unbelievable. I could have sung all night. It was really something. What about you? Any news from Wesley about that leading role?”

She huffed and dropped her shoulders. “Not yet. My agent talked to him two days ago, but he’s still auditioning. All this waiting gives me anxiety. His financing got delayed which means filming won’t start anytime soon.”

Fragility filled her eyes.

“I’m a pro at dealing with anxiety. You’re lucky. I can teach you a few tricks.”

She sipped on her wine, her eyes rounding at my words. “You can?”

“Yeah. There are a lot of things you can try. Trust me, I’ve given all of them a shot. One day, you’ll find what works best for you. For me, it’s controlled breathing and an extreme amount of exercise.”

“What do you mean?”

“My brother passed away a few years ago—”

“I’m sorry.” She covered my hand with hers, squeezing it in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you. Well, as I was saying, I’ve been dealing with panic attacks since then. Nights and days. But lately, they only make an appearance during my waking hours. When it gets too much and I feel like I’m losing control. Usually, I breathe in and out a few times, and it helps. And when my mind gets restless and breathing is not enough, then I run. For hours. Or lift weights. Until my body gets tired and my mind forfeits the game too. It’s not the best coping mechanism, but it’s my way. I’m trying to grow out of it. To control myself through breathing exercises only. Next time you feel overwhelmed, give it a try. I’m telling you they work wonders sometimes.”

“I will. Thanks. For sharing your struggles with me.”

“Anytime. I’m happy if my experience can help other people. Ready to order?”

“Yes, I’m starving.”

I nodded to the server waiting for us in a corner, and he neared us, a pad in hand.

Just as it did the night we met, conversation flew easily between Savannah and me. She told me about her last audition and her first TV interview while I shared news about my upcoming shows.

The sound of her fork hitting the porcelain plate hard had me looking up. Savanna’s complexion had become white if she’d seen a ghost, eyes wide and lips trembling, and she looked downward, hiding the side of her face with the napkin.

I leaned forward and touched her hand. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She cocked her face to the side, her eyes unsure as they locked on mine. She swallowed before speaking in a low voice, “I think it’s him.”

“Who?”

She jerked her head toward a group of middle-aged men in suits, sitting at a table, far enough to not be able to eavesdrop on our conversation.

“Who’s him?”

“Jerry,” she whispered.

“Who’s Jerry?”

My gaze pin-ponged between the men and my date. Knots tied my stomach as Savannah blanched a little more. Then my uneasiness transformed into simmering fury. My hands clenched until my knuckles turned white. “Start talking,” I urged her. “Who the fuck is Jerry, and what did he ever do to you?”

Keeping the napkin as a wall, blocking everyone in the restaurant from looking at her profile, Savannah whispered, a haunted look taking over her eyes, “My mom’s boyfriend.”

I risked another glance toward the far table. “Which one is he?”