Page 23 of Yorkie to My Heart (Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #6)

Jeremy

“Whoever this is, it better be important.” I hadn’t bothered to check call display because, at what-the-fuck middle of the night, it didn’t really matter.

“If this is a bad time?—”

“Don’t hang up.” I scrubbed my face. “What’s going on, Andreas?” I glanced at the clock. Oh, only twenty minutes after midnight. Hell, some people might not even be in bed.

After a day’s activities with Phillip—from the walk to the sticky buns to my nibblets to wondering what the fuck Marcie had said to the poor guy to dinner—it’d been a long day.

Wally had crashed shortly after eight. At that point Phillip begged off and I, having decided I’d had enough, called it quits as well.

Sleep had been quick in coming, but now this call boomeranged me into wakefulness. I sat up and scrubbed my face. “Do you need bail money?”

“Uh…”

“Fuck, Andreas, you better not be using your one phone call on me.” I started wracking my brains for lawyers I could rouse at this hour. Slim pickings in Gaynor Beach, but I knew a few in LA who were happy to take serious cash?—

“It’s not that.”

I let out a long breath. “Well, that’s a relief. Did you beat someone up? Did someone beat you up? Did?—”

“He leaked our private photos to the tabloids. Tommy Tucker just texted me to confirm and asked if I wanted to make a statement.”

My brain screeched like tires on pavement when the brakes were applied too hard. “Back up. Who leaked what?”

“The guy.”

“The one who beat you up?”

“Yes.”

“Leaked what photos? Of you with a black eye?” We can still spin this. Make it look like ?—

“No. Not those photos.”

“What… Oh. Shit.” Hadn’t seen that coming. “So, like, you and he…?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s what the fight was about?”

“What? No. I didn’t even know he had the pictures. Or still had them. He told me he’d deleted them.”

Jesus Christ, save me from innocent Nebraska farm boys and girls who believe what they’re told .

“What was the fight about?” I wasn’t even certain this was relevant, but?—

“I found out he hadn’t left his wife. He said he had. Because no way was I going to be a home-wrecker. You know me, right? That’s not who I am.”

To my surprise, I realized I did know him. And he was right—he’d never be a third unless all parties agreed. I let out a long breath. “Okay, so how bad is bad?”

“The photos?”

“Yes.” Because you’ve called me after midnight on a weeknight, and so ?—

“I…uh…”

“Spit it out.”

“Might’ve been wearing women’s lacy underwear.”

“Okay. That’s not the end of the?—”

“While trussed up and handcuffed to the bed.”

I winced. “Okay, we can still spin?—”

“And then pictures of me with my bare ass in the air and my hole on display…”

Lord, please save me . “Is it obvious it’s you?”

“You mean is the mole on my ass cheek visible and am I looking over my shoulder?”

I slid out of bed. “Okay, I’m getting dressed and coming to LA.”

“You don’t?—”

“You called me.” I wasn’t the biggest fan of interrupting, but as I scouted for fresh underwear, I had to make my point.

“Well, yes, but?—”

“And the tabloids have the pictures?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“So I’m going to have Shayna call all the lawyers I can think of until we find one to file a cease-and-desist order. We’ll threaten a lawsuit since you clearly didn’t permit the photos to be released.”

“You can do that?” He sounded so hopeful.

“I’m not a lawyer, Andreas, but I think so.” I hope so. I also hope I’m not too late…

“Are you at home?”

“Yes. But the building is surrounded by paparazzi.”

I stopped. “I thought you said the pictures weren’t out.”

“Did I say that?”

I replayed the conversation as best I could in my still-fuzzy mind. “Are they out?”

“On Tommy’s website, yes.”

As I pulled on socks, underwear, and the pants for my best suit, I considered all I’d need to do. “Has Valentino Langston been in touch?”

“I don’t think so?”

“What do you mean? Has the producer of the movie you’re about to star in called? Maybe to cancel? Or to, I don’t know, praise?” Because some producers loved publicity. Any publicity. That being said, he was starring in a movie with Norah. As a very straight man.

Which I’d believed he was before this phone call. More fool you .

“Jeremy?”

Something in his tone had me stopping—one arm in my shirt and one hanging loose. “Yes?”

“I’m really sorry. Why don’t I sneak out? And meet you somewhere? That bar in West Hollywood?”

“You can get out without being seen?”

“Yeah.”

For reasons I couldn’t explain, I believed him. “Okay. I’ll call Shayna in the car and have her call around for lawyers.”

A long pause ensued as I put on my shirt, buttoned it, then tucked the ends into my pants.

A power tie and jacket might be overkill and drive unwanted attention—so I’d leave them in the car.

I sighed. “This isn’t as career ending as it might’ve been a few years ago. In some corners…things are changing.”

“My parents…” He cleared his throat. “They won’t understand.”

I wanted to argue that he couldn’t be certain…

except they’d attempted to forbid him to go to Stanford—because California was the work of the devil .

At the time he’d shared that little tidbit, I’d been part amused and part offended.

Amused they believed they could sway their headstrong son into turning down a football scholarship to one of the best schools in the country.

Offended because I’d lived in SoCal my entire life and had yet to find a devil.

Bad people? Certainly. Someone trying to tempt innocent souls over to the dark side? Hell fucking no.

Not that such people didn’t exist. I just hadn’t met one.

Uh…sounded like Andreas’s former lover might be one.

Phillip’s asshole ex as well.

I shook my head. “All right. If Shayna can come, yes to the bar in West Hollywood. If you’re spotted, go to the parking lot of a fast-food joint and grab a burger. Sit in your car and eat the burger and fries until I get there.”

“With extra pickles?”

“As many as you want.” Sometimes I forgot how young he was. At twenty-five, he had several years of acting and modeling under his belt. Hell, he was Phillip’s age. Yet their worlds were so very different. “I’m on my way.” I slid my feet into my shoes and bent to tie the laces.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll call Shayna.”

“It’s two hours for me to drive up. A bit less this time of night.”

“Don’t get a speeding ticket.”

I smiled. Very few would be concerned about others while in the midst of their own crisis. “I’ll be careful.” I disconnected the call and frowned.

Phillip .

I didn’t want to wake him. So…I could leave a note in his bathroom where he’d find it first thing and then leave a key on the kitchen counter so he could go out if he needed to.

Being back before nine or ten felt impossible.

On that thought, I tossed jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap in a bag.

Oh, and running shoes. God only knew if I’d actually need them, but I preferred to be prepared.

Double-checking I had everything—which included my wallet and a thankfully fully charged phone—I slipped out of my room.

To find Phillip standing by his door with a sleepy Wally at his feet.

I halted. “You okay?”

“I was going to ask you that question.” He held up his hand. “I didn’t hear the call, but I heard your tone of voice.”

Because I’d left the door ajar so I might hear him if he needed me. I winced. “Apologies.”

He waved me off. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Is there something I can help you with?” He was so earnest. With his worried green eyes and his tousled hair.

“I’m really okay. I have to run up to LA?—”

“At this hour?” His voice was full-on panicked.

“Yeah. This is my job, Phillip. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I send emails, press releases, and organize interviews. Then, once in a blue moon, I have a crisis that demands my personal attention. Now, are you going to be okay?”

“Can I come with you? Maybe I can help.”

I envisioned him sitting in my SUV in the parking lot of the dive bar. Maybe with Wally.

Not a reassuring picture.

“Look, how about I call Marcie?”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No…but Thaddeus and Raphael would be thrilled to see you in the morning.”

He bit his lower lip.

“You had a nightmare, Phillip. I know you didn’t think I knew, but I did. The lingering smell of smoke isn’t helping.” I rubbed my face. “Truthfully, I would worry about you here and even more if I leave you in an SUV in a parking lot. So let me check with Marcie, okay? She can always say no .

I pulled out my phone, found Marcie’s number, and dialed.

Fifteen minutes later, I left a sleepy Phillip in the capable hands of my beloved sister and hit I5 on my way to chaos.