Fake (West Hollywood 1)

“Just don’t react. Don’t do a damn thing.”

“You can’t control what they say anyway,” said Mei with a sympathetic smile. “Best to just not answer. Ever. If it wasn’t for this job, I’d have mine on silent until the end of time.”

Seemed like solid life advice.

“We’ll release a statement soon,” continued Angie. “First let them work themselves into a frenzy trying to track down information about you and the relationship. It all suits our cause.”

“There’s paps at the gate,” said Mei. “They started gathering just after you guys got back from shopping.”

Angie nodded. “To be expected. There isn’t a viable angle for a long-range lens to see anything from up there. It’s one of the reasons Patrick purchased this place.”

“He does like his space.” Mei smiled. “Guess you’ve noticed that, what with you two sleeping in different bedrooms.”

“I snore,” I lied. “Yeah . . . it’s really bad. I even wake myself up sometimes.”

Her brows rose. “Oh.”

Patrick retreated to his home gym with a personal trainer as soon as he carried the groceries in and helped to unpack them. How he felt about all of this was hard to say. His stoic and stony demeanor never seemed to falter. Even though he’d agreed to this, it still had to suck for him. Having a veritable stranger in his house. Generating all of this extra interest in his life.

My cell vibrated its heart out on the coffee table and a name flashed across the screen I could most definitely not ignore. “Shit.”

“Trouble?” asked Mei.

“No,” I said. “Well, probably not.”

“Explain,” demanded Angie.

Instead, I picked up the cell and answered the call. “Hi, Gran.”

She cleared her throat, making me wait. Because the woman still knew how to own me just fine. Age hadn’t softened her in the least. “Norah, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Ah, yes. Um . . .”

“There’s a nice young man here from a newspaper asking me for a quote with regards to my darling grandchild’s exciting new relationship with a superstar.”

“Shit,” I muttered again.

“That was almost exactly my reaction.”

This was all my fault. Avoidance is a bitch. Life and consequences can rarely be contained and controlled in neat little parcels. “I’m so sorry, Gran. I had no idea they’d track you down. Let alone this fast.”

“What’s her address?” asked Angie. “I’ll get security over there now.”

“It’s in the file.” Mei rose and headed for the office.

“I just moved her to a new place,” I said.

“We know.”

Of course they did. They and their private investigators. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Gran, they’re going to send someone over to make sure you’re not disturbed again. I’m very sorry that happened.”

“Norah. Stop. Explain what’s happening.”

“Ah, I met someone. Isn’t that great?”

“You said you were done with men. That you were taking a break.”

“Yeah,” I said. “What’s that saying about how plans are what you make while life is happening?”

“And he’s an actor,” she prompted.

“Yes. Patrick Walsh. He’s nice. Kind of quiet . . . you know, the strong silent type. I think you’d like him.”

“When did you meet him?”

“We started getting serious about a week ago, but he’d been coming into the restaurant for a while.” While it wasn’t the whole truth, it wasn’t actually a lie.

“That’s not long.”

“It’s not,” I agreed. “But, um, we’re taking our time and getting to know each other like mature and responsible adults. Though I moved in with him a couple of days ago. He has this nice house in the hills. It has a pool and everything. Great artwork and—”

“You’ve moved in with him?” she snapped. “Already?”

“Y-yes.”

“Some people might call that rushing to the point of stupidity.”

“And those people would be harsh despite having a point, I guess.”

“Hmm,” said Gran. “I thought you learned your lesson about moving too fast with Mason.”

“Well, he’s not Mason. He’s a completely different person who hasn’t once asked to borrow my credit card for a special surprise thing he doesn’t want to tell me about just yet. But yeah, I see what you’re saying.” I frowned at the memory. “Though of course if Patrick were stringing along another two girlfriends and a fiancée, then it’s safe to say the press would have found out about it by now. They are all over him night and day.”

“Norah,” she said chidingly. “Don’t make light of it. How can you be sure about this boy?”

“The ‘boy’ is a thirty-six-year-old man. And I myself might be considered an adult at thirty. Some might even think me able to make decisions for myself.”

She clicked her tongue. “Answer the question.”

“Please don’t make your mind up about him so fast. He’s a nice person. Really.”

“They all seem nice at first.” She sighed. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“I don’t want you getting led around by your pussy, either.”