Hollywood Scandal (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Calla woke and squinted at the bedside clock. It said eight thirty. She closed her eyes. She could sleep in since today was Saturday and she didn’t have anywhere to go.

Wait.

That wasn’t her clock.

This wasn’t her bed.

This was the lying skunk’s bed.

How dare he let her sleep in his bed, in his house, after she’d gotten mad at him?

Being nice wasn’t fair. It made her sad.

Another thought occurred to her. He probably wanted to make sure he had an opportunity to deliver his apologies. Ha. Sneaky was
her
middle name.

She slid out from under the covers and shivered.

Damn it, what had happened to her clothes? Memories from the previous night came flooding back to her, along with a headache that could incapacitate an elephant. Never drink wine on an empty stomach. Never. Alex must have undressed her. At least the rat had left her in her underwear.

Why had she thought staying here last night was such a good idea? She’d only been up for two minutes and already the day couldn’t get any worse.

She found her pants and socks on the floor near the bed, but her shirt seemed to have disappeared, and got into the shower. The hot water and soap did a lot to reduce the headache, but it stubbornly hung on. She put on her underwear and pants, then stole one of his button-up shirts and rolled the sleeves halfway up her arms so it wasn’t hanging off her.

She checked on him in the spare room.

He slept on like he was Rip Van Winkle.

In the kitchen, she downed a glass of water and a couple of pills for the headache, then grabbed a banana to eat on the way home. Her actual home. The building with her name on the mortgage.

She opened the front door and stepped out of Alex’s house.

Jeff MacKay stood five feet away, and behind him were a half-dozen photographers, their digital cameras pointed at her and snapping like the ankle-biter dogs they were.

Jeff blinked and smiled at Calla, but it looked stiff and uncomfortable on his face.

Her day got worse.

“Hello, darling. I didn’t expect
you
to be here. Going somewhere?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, pasted a smile on her mouth, and pushed past the annoying actor. “Yep.”

He followed. “Where?”

“None of your business.” She peered at the photographers. Maybe she could do something useful with this awkward situation. Her life was in shambles, but she couldn’t let Jeff MacKay ruin Alex’s, too. She just couldn’t, no matter that he lied to her.

Calla raised her voice and said, “And you waiting at Alex’s door…creepy.”

“I’m trying to talk some sense into a stubborn lawyer. How’s that creepy?”

“Does the word S-T-A-L-K-E-R mean anything to you? I do have a restraining order that says you’re not allowed to do this sort of thing.”

He shrugged. “But I didn’t know you were here.” He gestured at the press busy taking photos. They were here before I was and no one said a thing about you being inside.”

The photographers started to shout questions at her. She turned to them with a frown. “What, now you want to know what’s going on? Don’t tell me you bought the sob story he sold you this morning?”

“You’re not going to dump Alex Hardy for Jeff MacKay?” one man shouted louder than the rest.

“Nope.” She waded through them toward her car.

“He was named the Sexiest Man of the Year,” another said. “Millions of women love him.”

“Who are you?” Calla asked with one eyebrow raised. “MacKay’s publicity team? The only person I know of who loves Jeff MacKay is…Jeff MacKay.” She opened her car door and was about to get in, but gave them one more tidbit before she closed the door. “And please, try not to step on my fiancé’s flowers. He’s very sensitive about them.”

She backed down the driveway and waved at MacKay, now surrounded by the photographers who were yelling and taking pictures at the same time.

Her day got a whole lot better.

…

Alex woke to banging on the front door.

Loud banging.

Angry banging.

Angry…
Calla
.

He bolted upright and searched the house, but he was totally and completely alone.

Damn it.

The banging got louder.

He went back to his bedroom and yanked on a pair of pants, then rushed to the door, hoping it was Calla, upset that she’d forgotten something.

Jeff MacKay was not the person he wanted to see.

He glared at the other man’s neatly pressed trousers and shirt. “What?”

“I want her.”

“Huh?”

“I’m going to get her.” There was no trace of a smile on MacKay’s face.

Alex glanced past the other man’s shoulder at the herd of photographers taking pictures and shouting stupid questions. No Calla in sight. “How’s that working for you so far?”

The actor crossed his arms over his chest and thrust his chin out as he said, “I wasn’t serious about it before. I am now.”

The idea that MacKay could be serious about anything boggled the mind. “Why now and not before?”

MacKay grinned a not-nice grin. “She’s got balls.”

The man was an idiot. “You just figured that out now?”

“I thought she was playing hard to get.” MacKay shrugged. “Sometimes women try it to get my attention. But she’s for real.”

“She doesn’t play at the important stuff. And you should have figured that out about her already, too.”

“So, you’re saying you’re smarter than I am?”

Alex didn’t bothering answering that stupid question.

“There’s a problem with that,” MacKay said with a smirk. “You lied to her.”

“How many times this week have you lied, MacKay? Once, twice…a dozen times?” He shook his head. “Get off my property.” He shut the door with a thump. He jerked it open and said with a raised voice, “And don’t trample my flowers.” He slammed the door again.

Wherever Calla went, she needed to be warned. Alex picked up his cell phone and sent her a quick text message:
MacKay just left here. He’s decided you’re his dream girl.

She didn’t respond.

Time to start the begging and pleading his grandmother ordered him to do.
I need to apologize. I should have told you I was sending the flowers and notes the first time it came up.

Calla: I’m sorry the person you’re trying to reach doesn’t accept text apologies. Please make an appointment to see her in person.

Alex laughed.
Point taken. When can I have an appointment?

Calla: When hell gets a gondola for its ski hill.

Hmm, that didn’t sound very promising.
About your suspension to practice… We should meet to discuss the next steps.

Calla: I fired you, remember?

Alex: I’m doing this pro bono.

Calla: Why?

Alex: Because I owe you.

Calla: That is the worst answer you could have given me.
He could almost hear the anger vibrating her words.

Alex: Please.

Calla: Oh, now that you said please…

Alex: I screwed up. I’m sorry. I need to make it up to you.

Calla: The last thing I need to deal with is your guilty conscience.

His grandmother was right. He was going to have to grovel a lot.
This mess is partly my fault. Let me do what I can to fix it.

It was several minutes before she replied with:
Fine. Deal with the AMA on my behalf. That’s all.

Alex: Agreed.

She didn’t respond.

He couldn’t lie to himself. She might not talk to him ever again. Still, he wouldn’t abandon her, no matter how angry she got. Because no matter how angry she got, she was always truthful and never hid how she felt. Never tried to manipulate him.

Maybe words were the wrong way to go about apologizing. Flowers worked the last time. This time he had to up the ante and prove his truth.

Let the circus begin.

…

Calla pulled up into her own driveway and went into her house, locking the door behind her. She snorted at the thought of photographers looking in the windows and taking pictures. Alex had wanted to install a new alarm system. She would have argued it was unnecessary, but now with a celebrity stalker it might be a good idea.

Except, every cent that came in was owed to the bank for one thing or another.

Student loans, medical bills, mortgage, the list went on and on.

Was she going to have a job on Monday?

She’d better contact a real estate agent and see about selling the house. Not that she’d get much for it. She might have to take a loss. One more bill to add to the pile.

Her cell phone dinged and she checked the incoming text.

Jeff MacKay.

How did he get her number? He wanted to bury the hatchet. Go on a real date.
Really?

Irritating man.

She texted back:
I want no further contact with you. Be advised, I’m forwarding this text to the police.
She quickly punched in her brother’s number. Maddy had said she’d take care of him, but she wanted to be sure he was okay.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey Sis, how are you?”

The sound of his voice, happy and relaxed, eased muscles in her chest she hadn’t known were tense. “Fine. What about you? Was everything okay at Maddy’s house last night?”

“Yeah, she hired round-the-clock nursing care for me, not that I needed it. I feel like I’m at some kind of spa or something.”

“Well, I suppose this could count as a vacation.”

“So, can I stay a few more days?”

Surprise had her asking tentatively, “You want to stay?”

“Sure, Maddy is like the eccentric grandma I never had, and her chef makes the best eggs Benedict I’ve ever tasted.”

“You and your eggs.” Thank God for normal things. They made her ridiculous life a little easier to deal with.

“Hey, don’t knock the eggs, baby, or you’ll be wearing them on your face.”

“The thing is, Richard, I don’t know if we should impose…”

“She offered,” he said quickly. “I told her I was a pain in the butt, but she says she likes having someone to talk to who isn’t concerned with appearances.”

Calla still wasn’t sure this was a good idea. “You won’t feel awkward?”

“I think what you mean to ask is if
you
won’t feel awkward? You and Alex break up last night?”

“Not exactly.” She wasn’t about to confess to drinking too much wine.

“Hmm, what did you do, get tipsy and rip his clothes off when he got home?”

Not quite.
“No, why would you ask something like that?”

“Because it’s probably what I would have done if I had been in your shoes. And if Alex were a girl. You know what I mean.”

“I did
not
rip his clothes off.”

“But you had sex, right?”

“No.” She sighed and said, “I passed out.”

Richard laughed and said, “Cut him some slack, Sis. I did the brother-grill-the-boyfriend routine with him and he convinced me.”

“Convinced you of what?”

“Ha. That’s cheating. It’s his thing to tell, not mine,” her brother said with far too much smug in his voice.

“I really don’t want to talk to him again.” For far too many reasons.

“You’re a really bad liar.”

“I’m not…” She stopped and took in a deep breath. “It’s painful to think about talking to him. What he did, it…hurts.”

“There you go, that’s the truth.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Don’t you think it hurt him to realize he was lying even when he didn’t mean to?”

“No one lies by accident.”

“
Everyone
lies by accident. I do, you do, everyone does. We don’t see it as lying; it’s sparing someone’s feelings or trying to make everyone happy by not creating waves. I get lied to every single day by people who are scared to death of making me feel uncomfortable or inadequate because I’m a quad. The ones who do it for those reasons, I let them slide. The ones who do it because it gives them a sense of power, them I take apart with words until they’re so scrambled up no number of king’s men will ever put them together again.”

“Alex is one of the former. Give him a chance to explain, to tell his side of things. I think you’ll discover no malicious intent, only a man dazed and confused by a beautiful woman.”

He was good. Really good. “You should go into counseling.”

“I’m thinking about it. Really.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been looking into the possibility of taking university courses online.”

“You should.” To hear him talk about the future, create a career that he could flourish in…she struggled with the impulse to cry. “You’d be great at it.” If only he could fix her with his words and compassion. Some wounds had to be healed from within.

“Go after what you want, Sis. Go after the
man
you want.”

“I’m so scared, Richie. I’m so scared he’s going to let me down. He lied and…” She came to a stop on a sob, her breathing only a hard pant, as if she’d run a marathon and she was on the last mile.

“He’s not perfect. No one is.”

She thought back over the past couple of weeks and all the troubles they’d ended up in. “No, he sure isn’t.”

“Neither are you.”

She forced herself to laugh. “Thanks.”
What was she going to do?

“Anytime.”

“I should go. I want to visit a few people today.”

“Maddy said you should stop by later.”

Like that was going to happen.
“I’ll try.”

“Awesome. Later gator.” He hung up.

She shook her head. She wished she knew how he maintained his positive outlook. If they could bottle it, they’d be rich.

She changed into jeans and a comfortable shirt, then left the house with her medical kit. Photographers were waiting for her, but for once she didn’t care and ignored them.

The drive to Helen’s House was quick and quiet. The paparazzi followed, but when she stopped and parked, they drove off.

She got out and headed into the building.