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“Fine. One sec.” She pulls the phone from her ear, taps at the screen, all the while glowering. “Fallon wants to talk to you. Go ahead, Fal, you’re on speaker.”
“Tom,” the movie star shouts my name like we’re at a concert. “Tom, how are you?”
“Hey, Fallon. I’m good. Sorry I missed you last night when I went back to pick up Lei…” I pause and unleash a wide grin at my back seat passenger and articulate her name. “Ms. Price.”
The blonde laughs. “Not as sorry as I am. Look, I wanted to apologize for last night.” Her voice sobers and my muscles tense. “I was obnoxiously drunk, and I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t remember if I did anything inappropriate, and if I did, I’m sorry. You deserve better than that.”
I’m caught off guard and surprised by her contrition. Last night seemed to be more her norm, and she’s basically admitting she doesn’t like it but can’t control it.
My chest squeezes, a swell of admiration at her bravery—she’s a public figure and I could annihilate her by selling this to the tabloids. I’m also overcome with sadness for someone who appears to have it all and yet, the opposite seems to be true. She doesn’t have much at all.
“Hey, Fallon, thank you but no apology needed. It’s all good and I hope you’re feeling okay today.”
Leighton never takes her eyes off me, and a strange expression, more than her usual aloof, flits across her face. I can’t explain it, but something deep within me is compelled to understand, get to know, this deeply guarded woman.
Fallon releases what sounds like a strangled sob but quickly covers with a cough. “Tom, you’re such a good guy. Thank you. I’m fine. Well, that’s all I wanted to say. Drive safe.”
Leighton takes the phone off speaker and puts it to her ear, now speaking in a near whisper. I can only make out the odd word, some sweet and others the usual things friends to say to one another, and then she ends the call.
Within the hour, we’re checked into a high-end hotel and Leighton’s ushered to a suite. She doesn’t spare me so much as a backward glance.
The woman behind the counter hands me a keycard. “Ms. Price has your room number if she wishes to contact you. Enjoy your stay.”
Little does this woman know and maybe Leighton forgot, but she called me to pick her up from the party. She may not want me to have her room number, but I can call her anytime I want.
“Thanks.”
Of course, Leighton would keep her room number a secret. In the short time since we’ve known each other, I’m quickly learning most things with her are about control.Whatever.
My room is too much, especially compared to how I’ve been living the past year, but there isn’t anything I can do about it. I shower, turn on the TV, and call Gus to check in.
“Hey, Tom. How did the first day go?”
“Why didn’t you tell me the client was high maintenance?” I almost add that she’s a knockout, too, but that’s irrelevant.
Looks are nice and all, but I’ve never been one to fall for what’s on the outside. All the window dressings can spoil real fast. It’s what’s on the inside that matters to me. Oddly enough, I’m almost certain Leighton’s hiding all her best parts underneath her confidence and beauty.
“Ah, you mean the daughter? Leighton Price?”
“Yeah.” I settle against a stack of pillows on the bed. “I’m not sure what her deal is, but she doesn’t like me.” My lips twist at that souring notion. Why does the idea of her not liking me hurt so much?
“What? Everyone likes you.” My best friend’s sincere and if only he knew.
Leighton Price is in a league of her own. I’ve never met a woman like her. Attractive and enticing despite her cold, hard exterior. And the most frustrating part is no matter what I do, I can’t seem to make a dent in her armor.
“Anyway, it’s fine,” I lie and tell him a little about the hotel snafu and where we’re staying tonight.
“Woohoo. Those are some nice digs. At least you’re traveling in luxury.”
“It’s a far cry from what I’m used to…” My hand skims the smooth cotton sheets. “And that’s my biggest problem.”
“How so?”
“It feels wrong.” Though he can’t see me, I wrap my fingers around the thick brocade curtains before glancing around at the plush carpet, glass, wood, and chrome everywhere. “For the past year, I’ve slept on a cot with only a thin blanket and what felt like a sheet of paper for a pillow, and I survived. I may even be better for it.”
“Damn, I can’t imagine. It must be hard to see how much is wasted and taken for granted when there are people all over the world in need of the simple necessities of life.” Gus takes a beat, and his words sink in, heavy and true. “Are you okay?”
August Bradshaw is the best friend I’ve ever had, and his straight up question, concern for how I’m doing, gets to the heart of why. I blow out a harsh breath and shake off my melancholy—this odd annoyance that’s eating at me.
