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Trevor shrugs with a grin that makes me want to slap him.
“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And I think I can get you to change your mind.”
“Absolutely not.” I step away, keeping my eyes on him as I move around him. “Unless it’s to do with the photoshoot, don’t talk to me about anything else. I think that’s the best thing for you to do.”
Before he can say anything more, I get into the passenger seat and slam the door. Diane, already behind the wheel, jumps.
“Whoa, what happened there?”
“Trevor just tried to hit on me.”
“He did?”
“And said Luke doesn’t need to know.” I scowl. “I can’t stand people like him.”
Diane whistles.
“Shit. You as well?”
“As well? He hit on you, too?”
“About an hour ago when I was checking the makeup was good for the lighting. He suggested that we go and get a drink or maybe some food afterwards.”
“That’s pretty much what he said to me.”
Diane laughs.
“At least we know his MO. I think this will be the last time we work with him, though.”
“I won’t argue with that.” I click my seatbelt into place. “Let’s get this over with. I just want to go home.”
The drive back to the studio is in silence, and I find myself looking in the rearview mirror several times. I can’t help myself; given what happened the week before, I’m feeling very paranoid. I feel like everyone is looking at me and following me around. Dad and Megan have me feeling tetchy, and I’m beginning to jump at shadows.
It’s scary, and I hate it.
Finally, we get to our studio. The wind is still pretty strong, but at least we’ll be inside. As Diane is opening the trunk of the SUV and we’re getting the equipment out, Lucia comes hurrying over.
“Hey, are you expecting someone else?” she asks.
“Not that we know of,” I answer. “Why?”
“Because there was someone trying to get into the studio as we arrived. Trevor asked who he was, and he said that he worked with you two and he had lost the key to the studio.”
Something cold runs down my spine, and I momentarily freeze up. Behind me, I can hear Diane joining us.
“What? Did you say someone was trying to get into the studio?”
“Yes.” Lucia nods, huddling in her coat. “Something about him didn’t sit right, so I told him I would call the cops, and he left pretty quickly.”
I glance over at Diane, who looks just as troubled as I feel. I zip up my coat, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling cold.
“What did he look like? Did you get a good look at him?”
“No, he was wearing a black jacket and a black wooly hat.” Lucia frowns. “He was tall-ish, strong build, mid-forties? I’m not good on guessing age. And he had a beard.”
That can describe Dad to a T. But it can also describe any other regular guy of the same age. Diane is watching me.
“You okay, Elle?”
