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Savage looks like a caged animal as I flash him an enraged look. He fucked Colin’s girlfriend? And the man has the nerve to freak out about me talking to Colin?
“There you are!” a male voice says, as Savage opens his mouth to say God-knows-what, and thank God, Kendrick appears a second later and grabs Savage’s tense shoulders. “Come on, man. Don’t do this.”
Savage shakes off Kendrick’s grip and looks at me plaintively, like he’s on the cusp of a total and complete breakdown. “Do you want him?” he rasps out, motioning to Colin. “Is that why you didn’t want me? Have you wanted Colin all along?”
“No!” I yell. “Colin is my friend, as I’ve told you many times—the same way Ruby is yours!”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never dragged Ruby into a room alone so I could hit on her!”
“Fuck you,” Colin says. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And neither did I!” Savage booms. He returns to me. “I was trying to help you this morning by inviting Charlie over. I don’t understand why you’re—”
“Of course, you don’t understand!” I shout, anger flashing through my nerve endings. “Because you have the emotional intelligence of an amoeba and the impulse control of a gnat! Now, please, go, Savage. I need to wash my face and touch up my makeup before Colin and I start shooting with my team in five minutes. Kendrick, please.” I point toward the door, nonverbally begging Kendrick to drag his best friend out. “I’m in charge of babysitting this boy’s stupid ass, so if he disrupts the shooting schedule again, that’s on me.”
“Come on, Savage,” Kendrick says, gripping Savage’s arm. “Leave her alone to do her job.”
Thankfully, Savage lets Kendrick guide him toward the door. But before Savage exits, he shakes off Kendrick’s grip, turns around, and flashes me one last tortured look, followed by a white-hot, murderous one at Colin. And then, Adrian Savage, the man who can’t get out of his own fucking way, turns around and stalks out the door . . . but not before leaving a lovely parting gift for me: a fist-sized hole in the wall next to the doorframe.
Twenty-One
Savage
“You had sex with Colin’s girlfriend?” Laila shouts, the minute the door closes behind us in the SUV. Draft Day is in the can. Mentor Day is in the can. And now, finally, we’re alone and headed home to our fake love nest to begin a much-needed three-week break from shooting—time I’ve been eager to spend with Laila. First, in Chicago, then, in Cabo, and finally, back at home in LA for a week of relaxation while the show begins airing. But after today, I’m not sure Laila is still planning to spend a minute of the break with me, let alone travel to see my family or drink piña coladas with me on a Mexican beach. I’m not even sure if Laila is planning to continue living with me for the remainder of the season, even for the sake of our written contracts.
In response to Laila’s angry question about Colin’s “girlfriend,” I call out to our two usual escorts at the front of the car and ask them to turn up the music—and the minute the volume in the car ratchets up enough to swallow my voice, I reply to Laila. “No, I didn’t have sex with Colin’s girlfriend. I had sex with Colin’s ex-girlfriend.”
Laila scoffs. “Gee, I wonder why they broke up.”
“It had nothing to do with me. They’d already broken up when I got with her.”
“Colin said ‘I didn’t beat you up when you fucked my girlfriend.’”
“No, he said, ‘when you fucked my woman.’ Which means, apparently, Colin thinks his single ex was off-limits to me and every man on the planet—a concept I’m sure you strongly disagree with, as an independent, sex-positive woman.”
“He didn’t mean ‘every man on the planet,’ Savage. He meant you. I’m sure Colin considered you a friend when you nailed his girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend. And no. Colin and I travel in the same circles, but we’ve never been anything more than acquaintances. Ask any of my actual friends, Kendrick or Kai or Titus, ask Fish or C-Bomb, and they’ll all tell you I’m as loyal as the day is long. Laila, I stepped aside from hitting on you—despite my huge crush on you—for a friend. But with Colin’s ex, I was supposed to say, ‘No, no, sorry, I can’t have sex with you because you dated a guy whose band is also signed to my label?’ Give me a break.”
Laila pouts but doesn’t reply.
“They’d been broken up for a full week,” I mutter. “She was a free woman.”
“A week?” Laila shouts. “Savage! You were her rebound fuck? No wonder Colin is pissed at you.”
“Aaah. I see what this is about. You’re jealous you’re not the only woman who’s enjoyed my services as a rebound fuck. You wanted to be the only one, eh?”
