Chapter Seventeen
When he woke up, he held her tight, an arm encircling her middle. As sunlight wafted through the blinds, she blinked at the brightness. “Morning, princess.”
A smile crept wide across her face. “It’s a fabulous morning.” Her skin glowed in the sunlight, lashes brushing her cheeks as she squinted into the light.
“You’re breathtaking.” He buried his face in the back of her neck and that fruity scent washed over him.
“What I am is starving.”
“Leftover pizza for dinner was a bad idea.”
She laughed. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t had five pieces, I’d be less hungry.”
When he flipped her on her back, she yelped, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “How about we go get cleaned up in that awesome shower, then I’ll take you out for breakfast?” he offered.
She squirmed away and sat up, clutching the sheet tightly. “Out?”
“Yeah. You know, like a restaurant…café? Coffee shop? Why do you look so weird?”
“Out with me can be intense.”
“I’ve been out with you.”
“Once and already our picture showed up in a tabloid.” Absentmindedly, she brushed at the curls that flowed everywhere around her face. “And there weren’t any paparazzi in Greasy Ridge.”
“I don’t care if people see us together. That’s part of the package.”
Hesitating, she sighed. “Okay,” she said.
Determined to reassure her, Sawyer pulled her closer. Nothing could chase him away. Like her, he always pulled away from the idea of forever, but with her it seemed more and more appealing.
Later, clean and satiated, they left her apartment. She clutched his arm as they walked. “Shit,” she mumbled.
“What’s up?”
“That guy, across the street? He sells pics and stories to the tabloids.”
“Which guy?” Annoyance shot through his gut, and he cracked his knuckles. A reflex he couldn’t resist.
She gestured to the corner with a nod of her head. “Over there. Look, I don’t know how familiar you are with this…” She glanced that way again and exhaled in irritation. “He’s coming over here. Just ignore him.”
The man came up alongside them and began snapping pictures. He walked backward, oblivious to other people in his way.
“Morning, Kent.”
“Justine,” he fired off her name like he was vying for her attention amidst twenty other reporters. “This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this fella’s face. Who is he?”
“‘He’ is right here, buddy,” Sawyer growled.
She squeezed his arm. “Give us a break today. You got pictures, and that’s all you’re getting. Sorry.”
The two of them pushed their way into the coffee shop down from her apartment. She ordered a spiced chai latte, and Sawyer quirked an eyebrow. “I drink other things than coffee. Sometimes. I am a woman of mystery, you know.”
“I’ll have coffee, black.” He glanced back over his shoulder, and the guy was still outside, snapping away. What did he think was going to happen that wasn’t happening in a thousand other coffee shops right now?
She cleared her throat and handed him his coffee. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t noticed her paying. “Sorry, I was going to get that.”
“Chill. I have this great new job.” Slipping her arm through his, she expertly guided them to a booth that blocked them from the window. “You can’t let it get to you. They’re like predators. They sense weakness.”
“I’m not going to show weakness. I’m going to punch him in the damn face.” He leaned to the right and, sure enough, the photographer had his ass against the window, smoking a cigarette, waiting for them.
“They love that. He’ll sue you, he’ll still own the pictures, and have a great story to tell.”
“It’s been more than a decade.” They never talked about the tape, except when she asked him if he’d watched it. But he couldn’t help it. He needed to understand how she stayed so calm. “They have no business harassing you like this.”
“That’s just it. It is his business, literally. He’s earning a paycheck, like everybody else.”
“Why aren’t you pissed?” He pushed away his untouched coffee. “You ready?”
With a sigh, she lifted her half-full mug. “Not really. Look, I need you to listen to me. Stop staring at Kent and listen to me.”
Using more restraint then he felt, he put an arm on the back of the booth and sat back. “I’m listening.”
“Stop treating me like a victim. Someone tried to make me a victim with that tape, and I took that mess and made an opportunity. I’m not pissed because people like Kent helped me pay my bills. I made myself independent, and I’m proud of that. Don’t be like my father and tell me I should be angry or ashamed. I won’t do it.”
“I never said you should be ashamed.”
“You’re treating me like a victim,” she repeated. “Don’t.”
He wanted to deny it. Except she was right. It was the second time she’d told him to stop trying to rescue her. That’s how he was treating her. “Yeah, I get it.” That’s all he could manage for now. He’d apologize later. Right now, he still wanted to rough up that photographer that would dog them all the way to his car. Maybe even as they drove to the office.
Now he understood why she could accept the invasion of her privacy. She refused to be a victim to it, and he respected her even more for it. But he still didn’t see how to live with all the attention.
****
Justine sat in her Nana’s parlor helping her mother set up a new home office. This would always be Nana’s parlor, because Justine could still envision her reading and drinking tea in that private sanctuary.
Nana wasn’t around to use it anymore, so Justine convinced her mother it would be the perfect place to begin her makeover business. She’d put Thea in touch with a lawyer who was trying to get her out of the contract for the property she’d rented downtown.
Maybe her mother would drum up enough business to need the extra room. Until then, Justine was stuck with her mother, moving the Queen Anne chairs out of the parlor and into the basement.
Once that task had been accomplished, they sat down on the floor together to assemble her new desk chair. The desk, an oak behemoth, had been delivered yesterday, and they’d just scooted it, with much grunting and effort, into place.
“Mom, did you get the second line installed up here?”
“Sweetpea, there are two jacks on the wall right behind the desk. I had them install both lines in here, and got myself one of those fancy phones with two lines.”
Justine scowled at a particularly stubborn screw and gave a nod. “Good. I’ll set it up when we’re finished here.”
“So tell me about you and Sawyer. You don’t seem like ‘just friends’ anymore, if you ever were.”
The grin that spread on Justine’s face, and her flaming cheeks, were involuntary. “Oh, you know. There isn’t much to tell.”
“Justine Montgomery, don’t lie to your mother. I can tell by the look on your face there’s something going on.”
“Oh, Mom.” It came out on a sigh. “We’re…lovers. I love him. I love him like crazy. I am mad for him.”
Thea used a rubber mallet to pop wheels into the base of the chair. She hammered at one, her own big, smile firmly in place. “That’s so sweet. What’s he like with you? Because he seems a bit gruff.”
“Not gruff at all. He’s wonderful. He’s sensitive and kind. Protective, which drives me bonkers, but I kind of like it, too.” She sat the top of the chair on the base and used all her weight to push down until it clicked into place. “So, um…what’s the deal with you and Daddy?”
If she hadn’t been looking straight at her mother, she wouldn’t have believed it. A very similar embarrassed smile appeared on Thea’s face.
“Oh, well, that.”
“Yes, that. Come on, give it up.” They finished the chair and rolled it out of the way. Justine sat down and scooted under the desk to hook up the phone lines. “Give me a cord, please.”
“This is a lot easier since you’re under there and can’t see me. I feel like my cheeks must be a thousand degrees.” Thea threaded a phone cord behind the back of the desk for Justine to grasp and plug into the wall.
“It’s called blushing, Mother, and there’s a reason for it. Talk.” She leaned against the wall under the desk. “And give me the other phone cord. It’s cramped under here. Did you have a fax line installed?”
“You said get a second line, you said nothing about a fax line.”
“Okay, well, you can have them come back, I guess.” She plugged the second line into the wall and made her way out from under the desk. “And now I’m not under there anymore. You’ll have to talk to my face.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine talking to your face. I love this face.” She patted Justine’s cheek.
“And I know when you’re trying to change the subject. Where’s the printer?”
Thea pointed to a large box near the door. Justine grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and made her way to the box. “Mom, I’m serious. I want to know what’s going on with you and Daddy.”
Thea sat down in the desk chair and spun around to face Justine, who sat on the floor, opening the printer box.
“Well, it all started when we both went to this charity event for abused children. We’ve both attended the event for years, since the divorce.”
“That’s a long time. Why was this time different?”
“I don’t know. Your father approached me, we talked about how dull it had become over the years, and then we left early. He drove me home, that’s all. But we talked in the car about some of the things that happened in the marriage.”
Justine looked at the jigsaw puzzle that was the disassembled printer and sighed. This would take forever. She started pulling pieces out of the box, checking them against the inventory list included with the printer. “Like?”
“Like some arguments we used to have after I went shopping. Trust me when I say you don’t want the details. It’s…what do you call it? TMI?”
Justine laughed. “Too much information, yes.”
“Excellent. And then, while you were gone to that Greasy place, he took me out to dinner.”
“You said you’d had a terrible fight.”
“Oh, we did, after dinner. But dinner was divine. He took me to The Cornerstone, it was our place, back in the day. Where we went to celebrate everything. I wonder if the last time we were there was when I found out I was pregnant the second time, before the miscarriage. We had sparkling water and clinked glasses.” Her mother heaved a sigh. “It was hard, remembering it all. But there were a lot of good times in that restaurant, too. We talked and your dad apologized for hurting me with the divorce.”
“That’s a lot to take in.” Justine started assembling the printer, following the instruction sheet. She avoided looking at her mom, although she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t know how comfortable she was with this new thing with her parents. “But that doesn’t explain the blushing. What else?”
“We might’ve kissed once. Or twice. I think your father is starting to see the error of his ways.”
“I find that impossible to believe,” Justine mumbled.
“I know. I did, too. And we’ve had our share of arguments over his controlling ways, like after dinner the other night. But…sweetpea, there’s just something different about him. It’s almost like he’s sad he’s pushed everyone away.”
“That’s a change. He doesn’t even think it’s his fault most of the time.” She stood, picked up the enormous printer and fax machine, and put it down on the desk. It barely fit on the side. “I think you should’ve measured things before you picked out a desk.”
“It’ll be fine. The phone fits, and the printer sort of fits, and the laptop can go right in between them.”
“All right, let me set up your laptop, and we’ll be done.” Justine shooed her mother out of the desk seat and scooted it back in front of the desk. She pulled the laptop out of its box, then had to crawl under the desk again to plug it in. Finally, she sat back down and opened the lid. “So, kissing, really?”
Thea swatted her on the back. “Don’t give me a hard time. I’ve given myself plenty of grief about it, but all I can say is your father is a new man, and I think I’m falling in love with him. Again.”
“Mom! Do you think that’s a good idea?” She twisted in her seat to give her mother a long, hard look. There was so much her mother didn’t know. And Justine didn’t have the heart, or maybe the courage, to break it to her.
“Was it a good idea for you to fall for Sawyer? In my experience, lofty things like ideas have nothing to do with emotion.”
Justine exhaled and turned back to the laptop. She installed the printer drivers and began uninstalling all the junk that came with a new pc. “You’re right. I’m sorry I used my judgment face.”
Thea, higher than Justine since she was sitting, slid an arm around her neck and squeezed gently. “I forgive you and your judgment face.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” Justine couldn’t stop thinking about what her father had told her about Liann. What would happen if she told her mother right now? Thea’s heart would break, that’s what.
She and her father were due for a conversation about this awful secret she was being forced to keep. Someone, preferably her father, had to tell Thea the truth.
****
Justine caught herself watching Sawyer a little breathlessly. Again. She forced her gaze back down to the laptop in front of her. She had to stop behaving this way. If she weren’t so distracted by obsessing about him, she’d be embarrassed for herself.
Her thoughts were full of him the last few days. Ever since he’d shown up at her door, in spite of how hard she’d pushed him away, her mind revolved around making love to him and hearing the delicious words he spoke to her.
He’d staked a claim on her and voiced his intent to stay. A huge part of her still worried her father would buy him off. But that part wasn’t so big any more.
She took a quick peek and licked her lips absently. He was sitting there in his tailored suit that showed how broad his shoulders were. She tilted her head forward to see the way his jacket gaped down the front. She could just make out his stomach through the white shirt. He didn’t have a showy, six-pack stomach. But it was strong and hard and—
Sawyer cleared his throat and she yanked her gaze up. He said, “Tomorrow’s the big day.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How long after we tape the show, will you be free and clear?”
“If Liann doesn’t implode first, then I would think the first taping means I saw it through. I suppose I should speak to my father about that.” She jotted ‘visit dad’ on a post-it.
“Question: why didn’t you ever tell me your father slept with Liann? And you called her a slut?”
“I didn’t find out until we got home. And I didn’t call her a slut.”
“Not what she said. Get me your list, okay? I want to run down some details.”
She pulled it from her drawer and handed it to him. She kept a list of everything she’d taken care of. At first, he stayed hands off, like he was supposed to do. Since he’d voiced his intentions, he had started pulling her list and taking off with it, presumably to double-check her. After everything, he was mentoring her. And molding her to him, off the clock. A shiver traced its way down her spine.
She looked at Sawyer then quickly away, somehow more vulnerable. With a shake of her head, she distracted herself by crossing the room to flip through files.
“I went by Liann’s hotel this morning. I wanted to check in with her.” He frowned at something on her list and made a note. “She had five-dozen pink roses. Said Travis sends them after every date.”
“How…nice for her?” Justine detested Liann almost as much as Travis, at this point. She had no idea why Liann had agreed to come back with them, had faked a friendship with her, but couldn’t imagine it was for noble reasons.
“Did Travis send you pink roses after every date?”
“Ugh, yes. But then, not everyone buys flowers in little green pots.”
He stepped forward, skirting around her, until she stood between him and the wall. His face, only inches from hers, showed half a day’s stubble. She longed to touch his cheek, to let the rough and soft blend under her fingers.
“But he didn’t know how much you love dahlias in little green pots.”
How could he be so close and not be nearly close enough? “You think you know me so well?”
“I know you. I know your secrets, what matters to you.” He took a step closer until he brushed against her. “I know what excites you.”
Justine inhaled sharply and looked away, anywhere but in those smoldering green eyes.
“I know that when you get aroused you get this look on your face like there’s nobody else in the world but you and me.”
Justine jerked her head back up, shocked, and, okay, aroused, by the bare intimacy of his words.
“Sawyer.” She swallowed, trying to fix whatever was making her voice sound so fragile and bare.
“There it is.”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned her head like she’d been caught in the act of something far more carnal. He put a finger on her chin and turned her face back to him. He was everywhere in her vision, everything.
“God, that face makes me crazy.”
Everything in her shattered. What she felt for him wasn’t something that would go away in time. Or ever. Was he the first person who’d ever seen the real her, and not the her everyone thought she should be?
They both turned with a start when someone knocked on the office door. Sawyer moved away from her and headed for their desk. “Yeah, come in.”
Leo strolled in, giving her a curious look, and sat down. She realized she still stood there like an idiot, holding some file she didn’t even need, with that look on her face. She looked down at the file and then snapped it shut. “Hey, Leo.” That was better, a little, more her.
“So. Tomorrow.”
Justine agreed. “Tomorrow.”
“Will you be there, Justine?”
Sawyer glared at Leo. “Of course she’ll be there, Leo. She’s your producer.”
Leo winked at her. “You know the black dress, from the article? Why don’t you squeeze all of you into that little black dress, sort of like a premiere present, for me?”
“I wish I could, but that black dress died a fiery death.”
Sawyer nodded. “It’s true. She burnt it.”
Leo stared at her. “Why would you burn your dress? Did it hurt you? Do you not like looking smoking hot?”
“Smoking hot. I see what you did there. Because…I burnt it.” She sounded ridiculous. Get a grip, crazy lady. “I’ll still come, a little less up and out, but I’ll be there.”
“I can live with that. Not like you can leave the girls at home, right?”
Sawyer stood up, grabbed her list, and left.
“I think I pissed him off.” He sounded amused as he moved to go.
“You know you did. Hang on a second.” He wasn’t angry with her anymore, but way too many elephants were tromping through her life right now. He took a seat on the red couch, and she sat down beside him. “Leo?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“We’re okay, right? I mean, you weren’t trying to make sure I’d be there because you figured out a way to use up all that leftover pig’s blood.”
“No, ‘Carrie,’ we’re good.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I don’t think I’d even be here if you hadn’t come on board. And now look at us…first taping tomorrow.”
She let out a sigh of relief. There was a time when she hadn’t pretended she didn’t have feelings or ignored her instincts. Working here, everything with Sawyer and Liann, it had changed her. And she didn’t like being that person.
She had become the queen of repression, and it wasn’t her. First, she needed to clear the air with her father then tell him about her relationship with Sawyer.
After Leo left, she took the elevator up to her father’s floor.
A warm tingle raced through her at the thought. Relationship. She was really going to do this. Then she’d go find Sawyer and do something crazy and impulsive, she’d tell Sawyer how crazy, deep in love with him she was. Not as a ploy this time, but because being honest was the only way to a healthy relationship. Something warmed inside her at the idea of a relationship with Sawyer.
Outside Daniel’s office, Monique told her he had a couple of minutes and showed her in. She plopped down in the seat. “I can’t do this, Daddy.”
He raised his eyebrows and gazed at her. “Do what?”
“Well, for one, it makes me sick to not tell Mom why you left her.”
“You don’t know why I left your mother, Justine. If you tell her what you do know, you’ll only hurt her. And it doesn’t matter, because I’m not discussing this with you.”
She took a deep breath and looked at her father for a moment. “You’re going to have to. If you can’t give me a compelling reason why I shouldn’t tell her, then I just, I think…I have to speak up.”
He leaned back, his chair creaking, with a frown. For a full minute, he didn’t say anything and then he nodded. “Fine. You’re an adult, you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
Justine took a deep breath, bracing herself. It was like poking an angry bear. But, the uncertainty of what to do with what she knew kept shredding her conscience. “All right. I’m ready.”
“Do you remember when Thea miscarried?”
“All I remember is her being in the hospital for a long time, and you said she was sick.”
“A week.”
“It seemed like longer. I was scared that she wasn’t going to come back or she’d died and you didn’t want to tell me.”
“That’s what you thought? Why didn’t you ask me?”
“I was afraid I’d make you sadder.” She shifted in her seat. “Go on, it doesn’t matter.”
“The doctor told me if she tried to have any more kids, it would kill her. Not ‘it’s a bad idea,’ but ‘she’ll die.’ So, once she got home, I tried to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Most of the time, I was successful, but sometimes—”
“Wait, that doesn’t make sense. You were successful, she didn’t get pregnant again.”
He took a breath and forged on. “Sometimes, your mother would go on shopping sprees and we’d…fight. We wouldn’t exactly make up, but it was similar to what other couples might do when they fight.”
Justine frowned trying to make sense of the metaphor language he was apparently using. “Oooh. By ‘fight’ you mean ‘have angry sex.’ No wonder she’s always found shopping so exhilarating. That’s the TMI she was talking about.”
“T-M-what?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You stopped having sex with her? ‘You’re a useless no-baby-making machine, so I’m done here?’”
“That’s not what it was like.”
“You didn’t even tell her why? Of course you didn’t, because if you had, she’d have said, ‘Dumb ass, that’s why they make birth control.’”
“Your mother would never call anyone a dumb ass. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Birth control, Daddy. Why not?” She slapped her hand on the desk. “Because that’s the part of your story, your big defense, that doesn’t make sense.”
“No birth control is one-hundred-percent effective. And your mother would never have agreed to terminate a pregnancy if the birth control failed. She wanted another child too much.”
“Fine, fast forward to the point. Or is that it? You didn’t want to touch her no-conceiving…body so you found a young wannabe with stars in her eyes and Velcro panties?”
“Justine, you could make this not so hard.”
“I really can’t. No wonder she was so mad at you her whole life.”
“We couldn’t keep going that way, we argued, all the time. We only made up after the shopping trips.”
“I get it, Daddy.” God, why wouldn’t he stop with the shopping and the sex? With her mom.
“I had to do something, because even after years of sniping at each other and attacking each other, I still couldn’t imagine not being married to her. I decided I had to break the connection between us, do something that couldn’t be taken back or ignored.”
“That’s what you want me to believe? You did it for her? You slept with someone else and threw us out because you loved her?”
“I didn’t throw you out, Justine. I asked your mother to leave, and she took you with her, but you visited me. It was still your home.”
“No, you don’t visit ‘your home.’ You threw me out of your house, and I thought it was because I wasn’t good.”
“And then, you threw me out of your life,” he snapped.
“Because I still wasn’t good enough.”
They stared at each other, neither of them sure what to say next. She realized she’d somehow made this about her, about her feelings of rejection, and decided she couldn’t tell her mother because she couldn’t figure out anymore why she was so upset about it. Neither could she tell him about Sawyer. If there was a worse time, she couldn’t imagine it.
She stood with a sniff. “I won’t say anything. I’m not saying ever, but not now. But Liann? The one person with any influence over her now is Travis. You’d better get him to muzzle her. And, Daddy, you have to tell Mom before you get in a relationship with her.”
She walked out of her father’s office, more confused than ever about her parents and her place.
****
Sawyer rushed down the sound-stage corridor, Justine’s list in hand. She couldn’t be on time for anything, and her lateness increased exponentially with the importance of her punctuality. But she was thorough, and he knew he’d find no dangling details. If he’d actually been given the opportunity, and time, to mentor her, she’d have been brilliant.
When Travis called his name, he stopped short and rolled his eyes. “What?” The two of them didn’t even bother with the pretense of politeness anymore.
“I’d like to discuss something with you.” Travis sat down on the edge of a scarred wooden table shoved against the wall, placing a briefcase beside him, and gestured at the chair on the other side.
Sawyer flopped down in the chair and looked around, eager to get over with whatever this was. Travis studied him. “Why are you helping Justine? I know you are. It’s not possible she’s done all this on her own.”
“It kills you, doesn’t it?” He offered a tight smile. “That she can be so amazing, beautiful, and better at this than you.”
Eyes shining like he’d won the lottery, Travis opened the briefcase and laid a file on top. “Sawyer Jacobs.”
He squinted at the son-of-a-bitch. “Yeah? Big deal. Where’d you get that? My personnel file?” Something sickening squirmed to life inside, making him queasy.
“You know better than that. I had to dig for gold like this.” Travis stood and walked around the table, leaning on the edge to look down at Sawyer. “You picked pockets. Before that, you stole food and scammed people for money. And there was that incident, that boy who took your jacket that you put into the hospital. Malicious wounding, I think?”
Sawyer’s blood turned to ice. He’d spent his whole life trying to get away from his past. That stuff had nothing to do with who he was, what he’d built for himself now. “I was just a kid.”
“True. But Justine’s never gone hungry or been cold and alone in her life. Do you think she’d understand all that?”
“What do I care?” he asked with a shrug, as if she hadn’t become what he cared about most.
“Oh, you care.” Travis laughed. “More importantly, what would she say if she knew your mother was a filthy drunk who turned tricks for extra cash, and when that stopped working…”
Sawyer’s control snapped like a rubber band. He grabbed Travis by the lapel and jerked him up. “You don’t know anything about me,” he growled.
“I know everything about you. And if you don’t back off, so will she.”
Sawyer forced his hands open, releasing Travis, and backed away, taking his seat. “You read through those papers, real careful, and you think about this; what am I capable of, when you push me into a corner? I’m not going anywhere.”
“How about you think how easily this could fall into the hands of a tabloid? Stop encouraging this unhealthy attachment she’s developed.” Travis straightened his jacket and tie. “And stay out of my way.”
They both jumped when someone cleared their throat. Justine stood at the end of the corridor, glaring at Travis.
“How long have you been eavesdropping?” Sawyer turned on her, his eyes full of accusation.
She raised an eyebrow at that. “I think I came in at ‘I know everything about you,’ blah blah blah.” She turned to Travis. “I told you in the car to drop this ridiculousness. I…we…are none of your concern.”
“My God you’re an annoying woman. Sometimes, I wonder why I adore you so.” Travis shot back.
“So do I. The only thing I can come up with is that you’re a sadomasochist.” She crossed to pick up his folder of papers, rip them in half, and half again, before opening his briefcase and letting the pieces flutter inside. “Why don’t you do us both a favor? Go hire someone to spank you and tell you what a bad boy you are so we can both move on.”
Travis picked up his briefcase and gave her one of his patented, perverse up-and-down looks. “Spankings? I’m going to love being married to you.”
“You’re delusional,” she said.
Sawyer’s vision went black, and he didn’t realize he’d jumped at Travis until he registered Justine in front of him, hands out. Travis turned and left through the opposite corridor, choosing not to make his way past him.
“He’s an idiot.” She took Sawyer by the hand and pulled him into the green room, shutting the door behind her. Couches stood out prominently in the middle of the room. A huge, empty catering table hugged one wall. It was painted a vibrant shade of blue, and, in fact, wasn’t green at all. She said, “I need to talk to you.”
Sawyer jammed his hands in his pockets and looked at her. “The two of you discussed my life already?”
She shrugged. “No, not really—”
“Did you tell him what I’ve told you? About me?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I do know things about you, Sawyer.” She crossed her arms.
“Yeah, like what?”
“Like… I know you like driving fast, and you have a dog, and that frown thing, you’re doing right now.” She smiled with caution, and when he didn’t respond, the smile winked out. “That’s an angry frown thing, isn’t it?”
He fisted his hands and unclenched them slowly. His whole body trembled with anger. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, got it?”
She nodded. “Of course.” Reaching for him, she took a step toward him, but he brushed past her to stand beside the door.
He felt tainted, knowing that son-of-a-bitch knew all about him. Worse, he didn’t know how he could be with Justine without his past being revealed. Of course they’d find out about him. The only person who made him feel whole, and he’d be outed if he let himself be with her.
With a confused frown, she pulled her hands back.
“What did he tell you?” Sawyer asked.
“Nothing. I didn’t let him finish. I don’t care about that.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, a clear sign she was hiding something.
“You don’t care? Well, at least that’s cleared up.” In some part of his mind, he realized she wasn’t the one he should be angry with. His rage blanketed everything.
She took a small step toward him. “No, I care. I meant it doesn’t change anything.”
Sawyer shook his head, trying to clear it. He felt eight years old again, when he couldn’t tell who would hurt him and who would help him, until every face looked alike. “What. Did he. Tell you?”
She’d been told something because a mask of pity slipped over her features. “Sawyer, don’t. It doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t realize he towered over her until she was suddenly this close, looking up at him with huge eyes. He forced himself to back away from her. “Tell me.”
After, she took a shaky breath and said, “He said that you were raised in foster care and group homes. You’d told me that. Sort of.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“He said…it was because your mother didn’t want you.” Her words, slow at first, starting rushing out, “But I’m sure that’s not true.”
“You’re sure.” He’d be damned if he’d give Travis the pleasure of delivering this news. “My mother tried to sell me to someone for a case of beer. Do you know how much that is? In today’s market, about twelve dollars. That’s how much she wanted me, Justine.” He spat the words at her. “Unfortunately for her, the person she tried to sell me to was an off-duty policeman. You still sure?”
Her hands reached out before she jerked them back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Sawyer stared at her, wondering why he was so cold, so numb. This wasn’t news to him. He’d lived his whole life knowing how much he was worth.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Tell me how to fix it,” she said.
“This too much for you? How about this? I have no idea where my sister is. She was adopted as a baby, and I’ve never been able to track her down. I know it’s not as traumatic as losing your pony, but it’s probably a little more than you wanted to know.”
She shut her eyes for a moment then met his gaze, and took a tentative step toward him. “I do want to know, you know I want to know about you. But…” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you telling me because you want to slice us both open and poke around.”
He threw his head back and chuckled, his laughter laced with bitterness. “Oh, I’m upsetting you.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “You don’t get to judge my life.”
She took another small step forward, approaching him like a special pet gone rabid. “I’m not.”
“Your life is something people roll their eyes about in the supermarket. You don’t get to feel sorry for me.”
She looked at him for a minute, still, while air rushed out of her lungs in a loud whoosh. “Oh, wow. Okay.” Her voice sounded tight, small. “I got a peek into your deep, dark past, and you got to take a shot at me, which…” She shook her head, lost. “It’s not like you’re wrong. Are we even now? Because I need to go make a fool of myself somewhere less private, maybe with cameras nearby.”
For most of the conversation, he’d felt like an observer; just someone watching from a distance, not an actual participant. Then, he was snapped back into his skin, and he realized he’d attacked her mercilessly. And she’d let it go, a lot longer than he’d had any right to expect. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Sure you did. Don’t try to put a Band-Aid on it now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walked past him, steps careful, and left the room.
Why? Why had he said those cruel things to her? What he needed to figure out was if he could live with being Justine Montgomery’s former juvenile delinquent boyfriend. Those reporters would find out who he was faster than Travis had.
She was infamous, and he enjoyed living behind the scenes. Did they even have a future?
****
Justine sat on their sound-stage where the audience would sit, once they arrived. The assembled crew bustled around preparing for the first taping of their show. Sawyer had years of experience at this, and they threw questions and bits of info at him, which he volleyed back, at ease in the chaos.
Veronica stood nearby him, clipboard in hand, papers an inch thick, writing and scratching things off, all the while making faces at each different question or response. Sawyer would bark something at her, and she’d mutter back at him. She may be tiny and adorable, but she could go toe-to-toe with Sawyer in her sleep. Not easy, Justine knew.
She spotted Leo lingering in a dark corner of the soundstage, alone. She crossed to him, wondering if he felt useless and in the way. Or maybe that was just her. “You look fantastic.”
“Your mom picked this out. She told the wardrobe lady I was allergic to presumptuous and overdressed, so she’d take care of everything. I think I love her.”
Justine smiled. “Me, too.”
Leo gave her a quick glance. “Nervous?”
“Nooo.” She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be a cakewalk.” She took a deep breath. “If I go tell Liann to break a leg, but I mean I do hope she breaks a leg, is that good luck or bad luck?”
Leo exhaled, like a deflating balloon, his face going serious.
“Oh, God, Leo. What now?”
“I don’t know. She threw the makeup lady out. And she might’ve called her some names.”
She shrugged. “I’ll go check. Not like anybody needs me here.”
Down the hall, past groups of people doing their jobs, she found the right dressing room. She knocked and the star responded by shouting, “What?”
She pushed the door open and stepped inside to a bottle of Pepto. Everything, every surface, the wall, the floor, the couch, was pink. Worse, the smell of alcohol permeated everything. “Holy pink hell.”
Liann glared at Justine, over her shoulder, scribbling eyeliner across her lid so rough the first show might have to go with a pirate theme.
Justine shut the door behind her. “Are you almost ready?”
“Almost. You hired an absolute moron to do my makeup. She tried to use spray foundation.” The star picked up a bottle of water and took a deep gulp. “I am forty-eight years old, and my skin is very dry. Do you think I can use spray foundation when half the country has high-definition television?”
“I’ve never thought about it. But I’m sure if you talk to her…” She trailed off, because Liann had turned back to her eyeliner. “Is everything okay? I mean, other than the makeup?”
“Your mother is here.” Liann spat it out and took another big swig of her water.
“She’s doing a segment on the show. She won’t be here the whole time.”
The spiteful woman yanked her robe tight and sat down at the makeup table she’d been standing in front of. “Does she know? Did you tell your mama what your daddy did?”
“You mean what the two of you did. It’s not like you’re a victim here.” She took a few steps closer. “Is that water? Because it smells like vodka in here.”
They looked each other over, when a knock sounded and they turned to the door. Travis let himself in, and Liann turned on her smile like a bulb, holding her hands out to him.
He leaned against the door, ignoring the outstretched hands, and gave Justine his typical once-over. “You’ve almost done it. I’m impressed.”
She simply nodded.
“Liann’s broken her contract, of course, but you’re not going to let that stop you. Am I right?”
Wobbling for the briefest second, Liann stood. “What?”
“Drinking is in breach of your contract.” Justine averted her eyes, because he was right. She had no intention of stopping the taping. Of quitting. She had too much on the line to let it all slip from her grasp.
Beaming, he addressed the drunken woman before him. “You were too easy, Liann. In many ways, especially getting you off the wagon. It was like offering candy to a starving baby.”
And then he was gone. The star jerked her head to Justine. “What’s he mean?”
“He means he used you, which is becoming quite the habit for you, at least at this company. Ruining shows and sleeping around, I mean.”
“You selfish, little bitch.”
“Yes, that was uncalled for. In fairness, though, I tried to warn you about him.”
“Too bad nobody warned me about you. Daddy’s little princess and his ice queen; still his favorites, still the only people that matter.”
“Oh, please. We’ve been through this.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “Tape the damn show, and we’ll figure it out.”
“And now you want me to go out there and help you get everything you ever wanted.”
“It’s what you’re being paid to do, Liann. Suck it up.”
Justine stormed down the hall and found the audience filing in. Leo was nowhere to be found. Travis and his barracuda of an assistant stood offstage. She didn’t see her mother at first and then found her, walking through the audience and speaking to people. She was picking someone out for a makeover today.
Justine threw herself into a chair beside Sawyer. For a second, she considered telling him about the drunken star and what had happened, but…first, she still wasn’t talking to him. And, second, he had enough going on, at least right now. She could worry about this one thing.
The audience had settled in, the lights had gone down low in the back and high on the stage. Leo and Liann took their places front and center, and Sawyer turned and mumbled to her. “I want to apologize.”
“What?” She gave him a quick glance, trying to decide how drunk Liann was this early in the day. When she turned back, her parents stood together on the other side of the stage.
“For yesterday. I lashed out. And I don’t know how to even start saying how sorry I am.”
“Not now. You don’t get to throw that in right now, with a hundred other things going on.” The music cued up as he started speaking again and she said, “Shouldn’t you be, you know, producing?”
He stood up and walked to the control board, and a mean-spirited sense of relief flooded her. She didn’t want an apology. He couldn’t handle a life with her, so what difference did it make if he’d yelled at her or if he was sorry?
The two co-hosts started chatting, and Leo carried most of the weight. Liann struggled to keep up with him, though he covered well. They’d almost finished the first segment, less than a minute to the commercial segue, when their drunk co-host looked straight into the camera and said, “We’re going to talk about secrets today.”
Leo faltered, looking at her in confusion and then at Sawyer. “That’d be an interesting topic, maybe we can dig up some secrets another day.”
“No. Today.” She put a hand over her eyes to shield them from the glaring overhead lights. “Justine? Come up here.”
Liann looked out at the audience and started clapping…clapping! “Our co-producer, ladies and gentleman, Justine Montgomery.”
When Justine sat there, frozen, Liann continued. “Honey, you can come up here, or I can start spilling all the secrets I know.”
Justine jerked her gaze to her mother and bounced up out of her seat. She crossed to the control board and leaned down to whisper to Sawyer, “Shut it down. She’s drunk.” He gave the order to stop the cameras, eyes wide. She walked to the stage and up the step, and a hand snaked across to grasp her elbow.
Liann clapped, again, and then said, “Sawyer, she needs a mic. We want everyone to hear what Justine has to say, don’t we?”
He picked up a microphone and crossed to Liann. He must’ve had them cut her sound, too, because they had a whispered but furious discussion before Liann snatched the mic from him and turned to her, holding it out.
Justine took it, staring down at it. Her stomach flipped, and she hoped, if nothing else, she didn’t spill her guts in front of everyone.
Liann was just getting warmed up, though, and enjoying every second. She settled into her seat and, God, poor Leo. He looked like somebody had stabbed him in the heart, and he was trying to keep up a brave front.
“Now, Justine,” Liann purred at her, her voice glinting with anger, “you’ve got secrets, darlin’. I have secrets. Leo, I bet you have secrets. Which should we dish about?”
Justine sat down and said, “I’m guessing the fact that you’re drunk isn’t a secret anymore.”
Liann narrowed her eyes. “Into the microphone, honey.”
Sawyer watched her, gaze intense, but she could make out not much else, not with the lights. Which was just as well. She didn’t want to see anyone else’s face, not right now.
“Is that what you want? To try to humiliate me? Fine, let’s do this. Because this? This is a cakewalk.” Justine met Leo’s eyes, and he nodded at her. “Ask a question, then. Interviewing is your job.”