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“I said name agoodreason.” He smirked, then laid a wad of cash on the counter without even waiting for me to give him the cost of his order.
I stared dumbfounded at the stack of bills. There had to be over five hundred bucks there, far more than the order total. “You only need a deposit,” I said. “You don’t have to pay for the whole thing.”
But he merely shrugged and turned for the door.
“See you tonight,” he said, and I was so flabbergasted by what just happened, I didn’t correct him.
Chapter 6
THORNE
IsteppedoutofBatter and Bake, back into the midday sun, smiling to myself. Even the gaggle of girls taking photos with their phones while chanting the lyrics to Treemont High’s theme song (I hate that song) wasn’t enough to damper my soaring spirits. Smiling for the camera, I gave them my best angle before sliding back into my car and asking my driver to take me back to my hotel suite.
Soon enough, they’d post their photos on social media, but chances were none of them had a following large enough to matter. Besides, something Alma Rees said struck a chord. The thing she said about love. What was it?
There’s just something about young love. It can change you. Make you happy, even the people around you. Love is just good for the soul, you know? That kind of hope is life changing.
The instant she said it, an idea took root, and it was either entirely foolish or genius.
I was hoping for the latter.
I slipped my cell from the pocket of my jeans and waited until my driver pulled away from the curb and headed back to the highway before I dialed Trainer’s number.
The phone rang twice before he picked up, and I wasted no time. If my agent valued anything, it was cutting through the bullshit and shooting straight. “I have a solution. Something with more longevity than a simple visit to a hospital.”
“This better be good,” he said, and I could practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose on the other line.
“What is one thing that gets celebrities the most press time and time again?”
“Your run-in with the law?”
“Ha, funny,” I said. “Try again.”
“Your drinking?”
I clenched my teeth, feeling a prick of irritation at the barbs. Not that I blamed him.
I tipped my head skyward where I stared at the ceiling of the car, praying for patience before I said, “Other than me getting into trouble.”
“Your latest conquest,” he said, like I slept with a billion women or something. Meanwhile, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Quite the opposite. Over the years, I had one serious relationship. The rest of the women the media portrayed as “conquests” were literally one-off dates or not dates at all and simply outings with coworkers to discuss ongoing projects. But the press always loved to speculate and make up stories where there were none. Embellishing relationships into more than what they were was their forte.
Little did they know love wasn’t really an option. Not when you couldn’t trust anyone’s motives. Women who weren’t famous only wanted to use me for fame, money, or bragging rights. Sometimes all three. As for my female coworkers, they were too busy focusing on their own careers to make a relationship work. Two people in the industry meant a lot of time apart, and long-distance relationships didn’t bode well in an environment where the paparazzi liked to follow your every move. If they weren’t photographing you on a completely platonic outing with a member of the opposite sex and claiming an affair, then they were bombarding you as a couple, following your every move, going to desperate measures to get the perfect shot. One kiss. One embrace. One fight. Anything they could blow up to make headlines.
“Close,” I said. “The media loves love. The pap can’t resist a celebrity couple or a new relationship. It’s like adding chum to the water in an ocean full of sharks. They go crazy over it.”
“I’m listening . . .”
“Enter exhibit A. Do you remember that singer Mighty-J? The one with the tattoos on his eyelids?”
Trainer grunted. “Wasn’t he arrested a while back? Got married last year, right?”
“Yeah, and now everybody loves him just because he fell in love. They think he’s a changed man or some shit. Last week, he scored a massive deal with a major soft drink company. All because he got married. Everyone loves the story of the star falling for the girl next door. And all of America goes ape-shit over a good love story. So let’s give ‘em both.”
“Even if I agreed, where do you plan on finding the future Mrs. Roberts?”
An image of Scarlett flickered in my head. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders. A sprinkle of freckles covered the bridge of her nose above dark fiery eyes.
“All I need is a whirlwind romance. A girl-next-door type. Just an average chick I can fall in love with in front of the whole world. Someone good and clean and wholesome. Someone people can relate to. Someone likeable,” I said, though the likeable part was debatable. She certainly seemed hostile, but I was giving her the benefit of the doubt that it was merely something about me that pissed her off.
