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“Well…” I hesitate. “You remember the party I told you about, the one for Treyton’s movie?”
“The one where the psycho ex tried to get under your skin, yes, I remember.”
“Well, what I didn’t tell you about that night is that Beckett was there. And not only that, but the first thing he asked me was how you were.”
“No, he didn’t.” She snorts.
“Yes, Bon, he did. And when I refused to give him your number, he asked me for your last name.”
“So you just gave it to him?” She pretends to be annoyed but I know her well enough to know she’s putting on an act, though I’m not sure why she feels the need.
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly? Did you give it to him or not?”
“I did.”
“Clarke!”
“Hear me out, okay. He didn’t give me much of a choice.”
“What did he do? Hold you at gunpoint?”
“More like dropped to his knees and begged me in front of a room full of Hollywood elite.”
Over the line, I hear her swift intake of air.
“He didn’t?”
“Oh, he did.” I giggle, forcing myself into an upright position.
“What do you think that means?”
“I think it means you really left an impression.”
“But you know I didn’t want to see him again,” she whines.
“We both know you didn’t mean that. And hey, at least I made him work for it. He only had your name, so if he called you… Wait, he obviously called you, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Holy shit, why did you not lead with that?”
“Yes, he called.”
“And…”
“And, he wants to take me out.”
“What? When?”
“Tonight.”
I squeal like a teenage girl who just found out she’s won backstage passes to her favorite boy band.
“Are you coming to L.A.?”
“No, he’s coming here.”
“Bonnie!”
“I know. I know. I tried to tell him no, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
