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“Oooo,” the crowd utters. Whispers and murmurs grow behind me. Now that I’ve been identified, I give it twenty-four hours before one of the country’s gossip sites posts the story about my behavior tonight.
Part of being young and rich in LA means I find myself on their radar more often than I’d like. My ties to Adam make me a subject of interest as well. Before he met my sister, Adam Moreno was a well-known, male socialite. His dating history was posted online for everyone to see; including his romance with Avery.
The comedian’s smile falters, but she tries to hide it with more humor. “Oh, I get it. You’re not the kiss-and-tell type.”
“You nailed it.” I inject ice into my tone. “Now, move on to the next joke.” With money comes power. It’s a fact of life. And while I try not to use that power outside of business, there are times when it comes in handy. Like right now, when a D-list comic sees my serious expression and realizes it might not be in her best interest to continue to piss me off.
What can I do to her? She doesn’t know. But the unknown is enough for her to clear her throat, make some crack about me being cranky, and then move on with her set.
Several minutes pass before I finally allow myself to relax. Tension seeps out of my shoulders, and I unclench my fists. But when I turn to check on Olivia, the tension returns with a vengeance. I take in her pale face and the lone tear streak running down her cheek, and my heart aches.
Without thinking, I reach out to grab her hand. Olivia flinches and her watery gaze finds mine.
Her sadness causes me physical pain. I have the distinct feeling that I fucked up somehow, but I don’t know how to fix it.
Story of my fucking life.
CHAPTER 13
Derek
Two hours later,Olivia and I walk out of the Brass Handle. Jacob Edwards performed a good set, but I got little enjoyment out of it. I was too worried about Olivia. Her mood’s been strained since the comedian cracked her jokes about us. Thankfully, her tears dried shortly after I noticed them, and she’d pulled her hand out of mine. It’d been a feat not to reach over and take it again.
There’s another show taking place down the street at the Hudson Amphitheater, but I’m not sure if we’re going to attend. I’m mustering the courage to broach the subject of what happened when I hear someone call out, “Olivia? Derek?”
We turn at the same time, and the sight of the broad, pot-bellied guy pushing his way through the crowd makes my own mood sour.
Hector Cantu drags a leggy redhead behind him. He stumbles when he reaches us. The stale smell of beer wafts off his breath “I thought that was you.” His gaze locks on me. “When did you get back in town, man?”
Man?
“A week ago.”
“Oh, dang. I had no idea.”
Why would you?
Hector and I are not, and have never been, friends. I blame alcohol for his confusion.
“How are you doing, Hector?” Olivia interrupts the awkward lull that followed the ex-quarterback’s declaration.
I wish she hadn’t.
The way Hector’s eyes rove over her in blatant admiration makes me want to grab Olivia’s hand and walk away. That, or punch him in the face. Seriously, the guy’s on a date. He shouldn’t be checking Liv out.
A glance at the woman leaning heavily into his side reveals her glassy eyes, telling me all I need to know about whether or not she will remember this interaction in the morning.
“I’m good,” he answers with a flirtatious grin. “And you’re looking mighty fine, Christensen.”
Ugh, what is it with sports guys calling girls by their last name?It’s so cheesy. I hate that girls like it.
I feel a small twinge of satisfaction when Olivia doesn’t flush from the compliment. “Thanks, Hector.”
His eyes flicker between us. “So, you two are still close, huh?”
Not as close as we once were, thanks to you, asshole.
“We are,” I say. It’s a lie, but I don’t care. I don’t like the way this tool is looking at Liv, and I’ll say anything I can to dissuade his interest. That includes reaching out and grabbing Olivia’s hand to gently tug her towards me. “Sorry we can’t stay and chat, but we have another show to get to.”
