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“I think that only further supports my theory about the brain cells.”
“The press is in my corner too,” he says. “Have you seen the picture?”
“What picture?” I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing.
“They got a good shot of us leaving for the steakhouse,” he says. “They’re calling me your newest victim. I’m honored.”
“Great,” I sigh, making a note to check it out when James isn’t around.
“So I’ll see you in a week, right?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ll probably be up next Saturday.”
James stiffens at that.
“Cool. Can you put your bodyguard on the phone?”
“Why do you want to talk to him?” I ask warily.
“He’s old enough to fight his own battles, don’t you think?”
“You’re just trying to cause trouble,” I counter, “and he doesn’t want to talk to you anyway.”
James holds his hand out for the phone, and I reluctantly give it to him. There’s absolutely no way that this is a talk that will go well.
I don’t need to hear Ryan’s end of the conversation. The look on James’s face tells me everything.
“Yeah, I do,” James says. “And it’s none of your fucking business either way.”
Ryan says something else then, something worse. Something that makes James look ill.
“That’s not happening,” James says, his voice dangerously quiet. “And if it does, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
He hangs up and hands me my phone silently.
“What did he say?” I groan.
“Nothing,” he says, jaw set so hard I’m surprised his teeth aren’t cracking.
“Just tell me.”
“No, because it was stupid and he’s just being an asshole.”
“If it’s so stupid then why are you pissed?”
“I’m not.”
Sigh. Sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s older than me.
Chapter 54
We get back to the beach with barely enough time to change into our uniforms and head to work. James is still not over the conversation with Ryan. His smiles are slower to appear and quicker to fade, and there’s something troubled that lingers in his eyes.
I mess up an order and Brian gives me a ration of shit about it — away from James, of course. Ever since it came out that we’re dating, Brian’s saint-like tolerance for my screw-ups has disappeared entirely, but he knows not to let loose where James can hear.
I will miss the beach, and I’ll miss my co-workers, but God knows I will not miss waitressing.
Especially tonight. It feels like something is building, a sort of escalating animosity I can’t pinpoint but read as if it were written in marker above me. My father leaves a message on my cell, his tone unashamedly threatening. “Your mother told me you’re planning to give interviews. You need to call me before you say a word to anyone, understand?” A small bitter laugh escapes as I listen. Too late, asshole.
