Page 17 of The Publicist
“I know. Listen—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“No, you listen to me. I’ve run it by Tait, and he has agreed to go along with my story. The two of you were acting out one of your fight scenes for the new movie and were giving the fans a show. You both are going to be posting about it on your social media platforms. You will respond to videos that you see, and he is going to do the same.”
“Why would he agree to that? I cold-cocked him because of what he was saying about you.”
“Yes, I’m well aware as to why you punched him. We had a chat as towhyyou felt the need to punch him. Believe me when I tell you his whole right side is going to be sore. I slapped him as hard as I could.” She smiles proudly and continues. “He is agreeing to this if I agree not to move forward with a sexual harassment suit against him. What is with you pretty boys thinking you can just take what you want? Did your mother actually raise you like that?”
“No, she didn’t. I’m proud of you for slapping him though.” I smile, and she returns the gesture.
“Thanks.” She pulls out a picture and a sharpie. “Sign this to Amelia, and write something special on it.”
“Why? Who’s Amelia?”
“She’s your number one fan, and she couldn’t get an autograph yesterday, so I’m helping her out.”
I sign the picture and look up at her from under my lashes. “Are you still coming with me tonight? I promise, even if Tait is there, I won’t punch him.”
“I made it clear to him to stay away from you.”
“What about you?”
“I’m a big girl, Caleb. I can handle myself with him. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“I don’t trust him.” The thought of him makes my blood boil, and I take a calming breath.
“Do you trustme?”
“More than you know.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Good, then do me a favor and actually trust that I know what I’m doing. I don’t need a prince charming, but if I decide I do, I’ll give you a call.”
Chapter 17
It’sseven forty-five at night, and I find myself pacing around my living room waiting for Caleb to show up. He is due here in fifteen minutes, and my stomach is doing flips. I hope I look all right. I wasn’t entirely sure what would be appropriate for the opening of a club so I asked Amanda for some tips. The advice she gave me wasthe shorter the better. Well,thatadvice isn’t going to work so well with my chubby thighs. I decide on a pair of pleather leggings, a silver sequined top, and a pair of killer heels. I apply enough makeup to not look trashy and leave my hair flowing down my back with beach wave curls.
The afternoon had gone over as well as can be expected. Tait and Caleb did as I asked and jumped on social media to stop rumors of the punch being real. I put out a statement to TMZ, which they happily shared along with the video from a fan. They immediately said the release is to avoid bad press.No shit, Sherlock!Why else would a public statement be given to you?A few of the team members pulled up Caleb and Tait’s tweets and Instagram posts and seemed convinced.
He rings the doorbell, and I take a deep breath and lock a smile in place before I open the door.Fuck me, he looks amazing!He’s wearing a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a royal blue fitted button-down tucked into his pants, and a pair of suede boots. He must have just shaved because his skin is silky smooth and smells like aftershave. He clears his throat, and I stop ogling him. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, sorry. Yes, please come in. I just need to get my purse then I’ll be ready to go. How’s the hand?” I motion toward his fist.
“Better. Doesn’t hurt as much anymore. How’syourhand?”
“It’s fine. I only slapped him. You actually punched the guy. He sent me a picture, by the way. You decked him good. Nothing is broken, but he’ll have a shiner for a while.” I watch his expression change as I tell him Tait sent me a picture. “Don’t you dare, Caleb. You promised me.”
He scoffs and throws his hands up. “I just don’t like the guy. I won’t do anything though.”
I pick up my purse from the table and motion toward the door. “Well, you better start liking the guy a little more. You’re working with him for the next few months, and sadly, I’ll be stuck with you. I feel as if I’m being demoted to a personal assistant. Next, you’re going to want me to fetch your coffee and get you a jacket when you’re cold.”
“If I get cold, how about I wrap myself around you instead?” He smirks and takes a step closer.
“You really need to work on your pick-up lines, buddy. I’m seriously wondering how you can get laid as often as you do. I guess looks really are worth everything, huh?”
He flashes a smile and takes my hand. “Come on, we’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.” I lock the door behind me and make my way toward the Porsche convertible sitting in my driveway.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, looking over at him.
“My car. What does it look like?”