But now not only is he hurt, he's certain he's got the moral high ground on his side. And I'm afraid that Dallas is so intent on taunting the man who used to sleep with me that he's going to make some verbal misstep and somehow reveal to Bill his role in all of this.
What will Bill do when he finds out that Dallas is behind Deliverance? That Dallas and his team are interrogating Colin in an East Harlem cell?
I cringe, realizing that my concern isn't if Bill will make that discovery, but when.
Oh, god, I hate this. I truly hate it.
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And right now, I want to move, but to where? I want to act, but how? It's all well and good for Dallas and me to say that we will carve out a life together in the world, but we still have to attack that fundamental question of how exactly that's going to happen.
Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that taunting Bill isn't getting us closer to that goal.
Frustrated, I move away from the door, my entire body feeling like lead pushing through pudding. I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. Apparently being unconscious for more than twenty-four hours doesn't count as quality sleep. Couple that with the fact that I've been up all night, and I guess my bone-deep weariness makes sense.
I don't want to sleep, though. I want Dallas, and I'm heading for the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee when my phone rings. Liam gave it back to me as Dallas and I left Deliverance, and the sound, so unfamiliar after a few days without it, makes me jump.
I fumble inside the small purse I've been carrying with me, then frown when I see the caller is Joel, who is producing the adaptation of my book, The Price of Ransom, for film. I consider ignoring it, but then take the plunge and answer. At the moment, dealing with Hollywood is probably a hell of a lot easier than dealing with reality.
"Joel?"
"Janie, sweetheart, where the fuck have you been? I've left messages? I've sent emails? What? You fall off the planet or something?"
"Or something," I admit as I set the phone on speaker and put a cup under the Keurig. I glance again at the time. "Why are you calling so early?" It's three hours earlier in LA, and I know from experience that Joel rarely rolls into the office before ten.
"What? I can't touch base with my favorite writer?" He chuckles, as if that is the cleverest thing ever said. Then he clears his throat. "Seriously, Janie, the new pages are brilliant, absolutely brilliant. I only have a few notes."
"Great." I don't actually mean that. I've learned that in Hollywood, everything is said in code and double-talk, and a "few notes" probably means a massive rewrite.
"And Lyle may have a few issues, too."
I'd been reaching for my freshly brewed coffee, but now I pull my hand back as slowly as if a snake were coiled in front of me. "Issues?" I repeat, remembering what one of the reporters had shouted about Lyle turning down the lead. Which, considering Lyle is rising fast in Hollywood and is already one of the most bankable stars, would be disastrous.
"I thought he loved the book," I continue. "And the script. Your last email said that he was completely in love with everything I've turned in."
"Baby, baby, baby. He does love it."
"Then what are we talking about?"
"You just let me handle this. Lyle's a sweetheart. He adores you."
"But?"
"But you need to leave this to me."
"You're not making me feel better." I drag my fingers through my hair. "Should I call him? We've talked. I thought we clicked. Maybe it could help?"
"I'm on it, Janie. I'll figure a way to turn this shit around. We'll use it, if we have to."
"Use it? Use what?"
"I won't let this deal go south. Don't you worry your pretty little head."
I ignore his condescension. "Joel, are you saying--" I draw in a breath. "This is about me, isn't it? He's pulling out because of me and Dallas." Never in a million years would I have dreamed that the gossip about me and Dallas hitting the press would mess up my movie deal.
"I'm not saying a damn thing, sweetheart. And you're not worrying. You write notorious books. You've got a notorious reputation. Baby, we are all over that shit."
Notorious.