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At the disrespectful term, Stan and I both stiffened.
“She was auditioning for a role and I told her she needed to show her commitment,” he boasted. “But she refused. Dumb move on her part. Now, I’ll make sure the only job she can get is as a subpar fluffer in porn. I’ve already alerted all the casting directors I know about how she tried to falsely accuse me and warned them to steer clear of her.”
I looked at Stan and saw my shock mirrored in his expression.
The other guy spoke. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll keep my distance. What’s her name again?”
“Boston? Paris? Some fucking city,” the first man replied carelessly. “London? That’s it. Her name was Lon–”
Unable to contain my disgust any longer, I jumped out of my seat and loomed over the man, my voice firm and accusatory. “You must be Russ Heyworth?”
The man frowned at me, with no fear or intimidation in his eyes. “I am, and who the fuck are you?”
My hands balled into fists, but I suppressed the urge to strike Russ. “Listen closely,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “If I hear one more lie from you about London McCrae, there will be consequences. And I guarantee you won’t like them.”
Russ let out a boisterous laugh, his double chin jiggling. “What, are you her uncle or something?”
“I’m Spencer York,” I replied, my voice firm. “The same Spencer York who fired your friend Jerry Niyaz from my show just last week.”
“The producer?” Russ’s lunch companion looked increasingly uneasy.
“That’s right,” said Stan, standing behind me. “And I’m Stan Longley.”
Russ’s face turned an unsightly shade of gray, and he appeared to struggle for breath. “I see,” he muttered. “My apologies. I had no intention of causing any trouble.”
Russ started to rise from his seat, but I stepped forward, towering over him. “Mr. Heyworth,” I warned, my voice still low and menacing. “I won’t hesitate to destroy your career if you persist in your vendetta against London or anyone else associated with my show.”
His lunch companion, looking increasingly uncomfortable, grabbed his arm and pulled him away, mumbling something about needing to leave. Russ shot me a final, resentful look before allowing himself to be dragged away.
“Well, that was intense,” Stan said, breaking the silence.
I let out a deep sigh and sat back down in my seat. “I won’t tolerate anyone trying to ruin our show,” I said. “London is a talented actress, and she doesn’t deserve to have her reputation tarnished by people like that.”
“I completely understand,” Stan said. “And I’m glad you stuck up for her.”
As I sat there in the café, nursing my coffee, I felt a sense of satisfaction after putting that guy in his place. Not that I would ever tell her, but I knew it would please London that I had defended her reputation and set the record straight with that jerk.
SEVENTEEN
LONDON
A mixtureof excitement and nerves filled me as I led Spencer through the bustling city streets, pointing out all the famous landmarks and tourist attractions along the way. We strolled through Central Park, took a ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty, and even stopped for a bite to eat at a charming little sidewalk café.
But despite all the amazing sights we saw, my mind was focused solely on our next stop: my brother Carson’s apartment. I was eager to introduce Spencer to a small part of my family, but I was worried about how he would react to him. Would he like him? Would he think he was good enough for me? These thoughts swirled in my head, causing my nerves to get the better of me. But as I looked over at Spencer, his hand clasped in mine, I knew I had nothing to fear. Together, we could conquer anything.
Today was my brother’s thirty-first birthday, and I wanted to give him a present. It wasn’t anything big because none of us siblings did major gifts, but I liked to find little things that showed I was thinking of them.
“Are you certain he won’t mind you bringing me along?” Spencer asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“He won’t mind.” I smiled and tugged on his hand. “Besides, I want to show you off.” He laughed as I pulled him out towards my brother’s building.
A few minutes later, Carson opened the door with a warm smile. He hugged me, but his demeanor changed slightly when he saw Spencer. I pulled back and introduced them.
“Carson, this is my friend Spencer York. Spencer, this is my brother, Carson McCrae.”
They shook hands and Carson welcomed us into his apartment.
“London tells me you’re a designer,” Spencer said in his charming English accent.
