I nodded. “Of course, she’s all over him,” I replied miserably. “She’s kissing him, Grace. And, that's just one girl out of how many? You should have seen them – women everywhere, just swarming over him, with their tits bared and their asses out, begging him to touch them. Those guys are just drowning in hot, available women, they really are. So how many other times has he done this? How many times did he do this without getting caught?” I motioned back to the picture on the phone again.
Grace looked at the photo a moment longer before handing back to me. “I don’t know, Nalia. Usu
ally, I've got your back. But if this is all you have to go on, sweetie, I think you might be wrong on this one. He looks like he was caught off guard. See? His hands aren’t even touching her. It looks like she's the only one who's enjoying this kiss. It doesn't look like he's into it at all. In fact, it looks like he's trying to get himself away from her.”
I looked closely at the photo, but I was still unable to see what Grace seemed to be seeing. Instead, what I saw was betrayal. What I saw was a man that had let me believe he was different than most men in his position. What I saw was a man I couldn’t trust.
How could I live in his world with the constant worry that he was going to move onto something new, something different one day just because it was presented to him? After all, he wasn’t lacking for a constant supply of young, hot, eager women. How could I keep up with the rigors of being involved with a rock star? Just the thought scared the hell out of me.
“God, it’s almost time for lunch,” Grace announced with a sigh. “Want to go grab something to eat?”
I nodded. “I’ll go get ready,” I replied and walked back to the bedroom, turmoil churning in my gut. What if I had been wrong to leave Owen? What if I had thrown away what we had because I assumed something was going on? Ugh, I was so unbelievably confused.
Grace and I walked to our favorite place on the corner to grab some salads. As we sat and ate, I tried to catch her up on everything that had happened since the last time we’d talked. We hadn’t had much time to talk because she’d been busy working during the days and I typically did most of my work at night. So, I gave her the entire, sordid story of Owen and me. Not the easiest thing to do since I found myself fighting surges of intense emotion from time to time as I talked about him. I had loved him, and I couldn't deny that no matter how much I wished it hadn’t been true.
“I hate to say this, Nay, but I still don’t really understand why you left,” Grace remarked as we walked out of the restaurant and toward a frozen yogurt place a few blocks down, the heat driving us to something cold. “Why didn’t you at least talk to him?”
I hesitated before answering. It was a question I’d asked myself at least a hundred times. The conclusion I had come to was, “I was scared,” I admitted with a sigh, thinking of the sheer terror that had been in my heart last night as I dialed the number to Owen’s hotel room. Leaving that voicemail had been the hardest thing I had ever done, and I knew Owen was probably pissed off. Not just about my leaving, but the way I had left. I just hadn't known what else to do at the time.
“Well, I just don’t know what to tell you, Nalia,” Grace said as my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I pulled it out and frowned, not recognizing the number. I hesitated to answer it, but I pressed the green button and held it up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Nalia? This is Beth from the agency.”
“Hi, Beth,” I said, hoping that Owen hadn’t called and raised hell or done anything to prevent me from getting another position through them. I still needed to support myself, and if I got a black mark against me, I wasn't sure how I was going to do that. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
“Mr. Young’s secretary called,” she said, causing my heart to slow in my chest. “She stated that he left you a bonus check at the studio to be picked up at your convenience. He appreciates all of your hard work.”
I stood there, mouth gaped open, confused. He had given me a bonus? I had ditched them and fled in the middle of the night, yet he had given me a bonus? “I, um, thanks for letting me know, Beth,” I mumbled.
She said something about letting them know when I was ready for another assignment and then said her goodbye. I hung up the phone, shaking my head.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked, surely puzzled by the look on my face.
“That asshole gave me a bonus,” I uttered, my voice shaking with anger. “He paid me off.”
She frowned. “And, you are pissed because?”
“I don’t want to be paid off!” I exclaimed, shoving my phone back into my pocket.
“Okay, I’m confused,” she announced. “What do you want?”
I had wanted him, his heart, all of him. I didn’t want his money. That bonus was nothing more than an insult to injury. Besides, the last thing I wanted was to risk running into him at the studio if I went to pick it up. “Damnit, I don’t want his money. I still fucking want him. But, at the same time, I don’t.”
“Hate to play Devil’s Advocate here, but you left him, remember?”
“Damnit, Grace,” I muttered, no longer wanting yogurt. I had left him, yes, but I hadn’t wanted anything else from him. My heart still ached every time I thought about him. “I’m not going to take it. I’m not taking his damned bonus.”
Grace grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look at her. “You’re insane. Take the money and forget about him. You still have to live, you know. Do I need to remind you that you're now unemployed again? What if it’s months before you find another position?”
I sighed, knowing she probably right. My car had broken down on the way back from the airport this morning, and after some fiddling with the battery, I was able to get it to limp back home and leave it in the driveway. It needed some serious work, and the extra money would go a long way toward making that happen.
“Fine,” I finally said. “I’ll go get the money.” Besides, Owen was in Florida for another few days, and my chances of running into him were non-existent if I went before he and the band got back to L.A.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Owen