Page 23 of Fame & Obsession

I know the answer. I just can’t resist an opportunity to mess with him.

He’s cute.

The three flashing dots on my screen might as well be an eye roll.

Don’t start, baby doll. It’s just Kung Pao.

In the middle of texting a snappy comeback, my phone rings. Pushing the glass door open, I glance down, frowning as I recognize the name flashing across the screen.

Not even the familiar sounds and smells of New York can stop the dread filling me. Pedestrians buzz by as I stand, chewing the inside of my cheek and trying to convince myself I’m not being a complete bitch by not answering the call.

I can’t avoid her forever.

Sighing, I accept on the sixth ring. “Hi.”

“Don’thime, Phoebe.”

Perfect ending to the day.

“Always a pleasure, sis.”

“I’ve left you three voice mails in the last two days,” she accuses. “You’re ignoring me.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I walk into the herd of New York City rush hour. “I’m not ignoring you, Chloe. I’ve been busy.”

“Must be nice to have a life.”

And you never let me forget it, do you?

“Stop with the guilt trip,” I growl in between clenched teeth. “I’m under a lot of pressure. I have my boss breathing down my neck and…look, why am I even standing here trying to justify myself to you?”

“ThePredator Confidentialpeople called again.”

I stop mid-stride, causing three men to slam into the back of me. They curse and flip me off as I stand trembling in the middle of Manhattan, memories flooding me.

I’ll turn twenty-three years old in two months, but in one instant, I revert to a wounded and confused nineteen-year-old. The one who woke up in a stark, sterile room knowing she’d never be the same.

“Phoebe? Are you listening to me?”

A shrill car horn and hurled expletives from a cabbie slam me back into the present.

Stepping back, I shake my head. “I have nothing to say to them.”

She sighs. “What am I supposed to tell them?”

“Tell them the same thing I’ve said every time they’ve dropped by unannounced. I’m not doing a goddamn primetime special about my private life. They can take their fucking offer and—”

“Language!” she interrupts. “You realize how much a quarter of a million would help with bills that have accumulated, don’t you?”

There it is. The reminder of what a burden I’d been.

“Don’t.”

“Abby misses you.” Her well-aimed dart hits its target, and my heart bleeds for my three-year-old niece. “I have to go. Tell her I’ll call soon.” Ending the call, I wipe away salty tears trailing down my cheeks.

I could move to the ends of the earth, and it wouldn’t make any difference. There will never be enough distance between me and the man who ruined my life.

Eight