“Fuck.” He looked away. “I was hoping you hadn’t seen it.”
As if she had something else to do with her sleepless nights other than Google him and Lila. “Hardly as damning as the photos since.”
“I calmed her down and went home. The next day, that picture was all over the internet with those damn reconciliation headlines. Before I could get ahold of you, Lila told me Brendon returned later that same night, drunk, and hit her.”
Icy fingers of unease slid down her neck. She’d known it was coming, had heard the rumors of Lila’s volatile relationship with her husband, but the news of abuse still sparked a dark wire from her past.
“I told her to file a restraining order,” he said, “but she—”
“Doesn’t want the negative publicity.”
“Yeah. So I’m juggling a frantic and fragile Lila between my workshops, and my agent is telling me to let the story between us play out.”
“Keeps you in the public eye.” Her disgust with this part of Hollywood came through loud and clear.
“Right. God, I didn’t think you’d understand.”
“Then you obviously don’t know me very well. I’ve been in Hollywood longer than you and Lila combined. I’m like a hairdresser to the stars. No one sees me as a threat, and I never leak information, so I become everyone’s confidante—stars, cast, crew, even management.”
Understanding glittered in his eyes. “When Brendon saw the pictures of me and Lila together, he went to the house again. She made up the lie about us being together without asking me first. On the upside, it seemed to put the brakes on Brendon’s harassment. On the bad side—”
“She stuck you in publicity hell. How thoughtful.”
Relief washed across his face. “Yeah.”
He reached for her hand. Longing pinged through her, but she pulled away.
“I’m not with her, Z. The only time I kissed her was that night at the junket for the cameras. You’re the only person I want. I’m just trying to help a friend.”
“I imagine the producers and your agent aren’t complaining about the publicity this is bringing to the movie.”
“No, but that’s not why I’m doing it. She’s hired a bodyguard, and I told her that she needs to reconsider the restraining order, but even the bodyguard, who’s ex-LAPD, said they don’t always work.”
Zahara turned her gaze on the seat in front of her. “It’s a tough situation.”
“But it’s not about you and me,” he told her. “I feel exactly the same way about you now as I did the day you left for Boston.”
“That’s the problem, Chase, it is about you and me. Because now, there’s a wall between us.”
“There doesn’t have to be.”
“Yes, there does.”
“Why?”
She frowned hard and shook her head. “I can’t tell if you’re just that naïve, just that selfish, just that good a person or…”
“Or what?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Just say it, Z.”
“Just that clueless.”
“I’ll translate that to stupid.”
“Your choice. Just like pretending to be involved with Lila was your choice. It was a sucky situation, but there were other options. Why did you have to be the one to save her?”
He gave her a how-could-you-ask-me-that look. “Because we’re friends. Because she was once important to me.”
She wanted to yell What about me? What the fuck about me?