Chapter 30

CHAPTER30

TATE

After the movie—a full-on hanging-on-the-edge-of-your-seat action thriller that was pretty decent—some of the younger members of the cast approach us, making easy conversation that leads into them inviting us to go to dinner at a nearby restaurant.

I of course accept, and Scarlett doesn’t seem to mind, so we hop in our town car and make our way down the street to a tiny Italian restaurant tucked behind a wall of ivy. The moment we walk inside the restaurant, the atmosphere is warm and welcoming, every single table full save for a long one in the back that has a tiny folded card set up in the center that says Reserved.

“Oh my God, it smells delicious in here,” Scarlett practically groans, and I glance over at her, giving her hand, which is still in mine, a squeeze.

“You’re still hungry after all that popcorn you consumed?” We’ve been teasing each other all night. The more we spend time together, the easier it is with her. Nothing feels fake or forced between us.

I actually like her. I’m fairly certain she likes me. And the closer we get, the more I want her.

Scarlett rests her other hand against her flat stomach, smiling almost apologetically. “I didn’t eat that much.”

She ate a lot, but I’m not going to give her shit for it. I ate a lot of popcorn too. And the candy.

Shit, I’m going to have to go for a run every morning for the rest of the week to burn all of these extra calories off. And we’re having a late pasta dinner on top of it?

It’s like I’m trying to sabotage myself. Roger keeps harping on me about how I need to stay in shape, and he’s right. I need to be physically ready for a tour, which is already tentatively scheduled.

Fucking terrifying, how I’m handing over my life to my record label and they’re just making shit happen and consulting me after the fact. I’m expected to say yes to everything they do, and normally I do. But when does it ever stop?

At the rate it’s going, it feels like never.

The hostess takes us to our table, and the six of us settle into our chairs, Scarlett sitting right next to me. We all glance over the menus and discuss our options, Scarlett remaining quiet as usual, and I wish she weren’t so shy. Though I know it’s hard for her to make small talk with other people. She claims she’s better behind a camera than in person, and I’ve come to realize that with strangers, she’s not wrong.

One of the actresses from the film, Katrina, sits on my left side, her gaze knowing when mine meets hers.

“We met once, you know,” she tells me as the server is on the other end of the table, starting to take all our drink orders.

I frown, scrutinizing her face, but it’s not familiar. “We did?”

Katrina nods, her lips curved into a smug smile. I can’t deny that she’s gorgeous. Icy-blond hair that hangs in a straight line at her shoulders, her full lips covered in bold red lipstick. The dress she’s wearing is a shimmery gold and clings to her curves. I’d peg her as a little older than me, but then again, maybe I’m wrong.

Hollywood, celebrity—it hardens a lot of us. Makes us seem older than we are. Only because we’ve seen so much and done so much compared to the average person that’s our age.

“A few years ago,” she says vaguely. “Before you had your public meltdown.”

Everything seemed to happen to me before my meltdown. “So a lifetime ago then.”

“Yes.” Katrina leans in a little closer, her gaze falling to my lips. “We met at a club.”

“Okay.” Where is she going with this?

“I was a dancer.” Her laugh is sultry, and I’m immediately uncomfortable. Nothing good ever came out of a club back in our heyday. “I gave you a lap dance. You slipped me an extra five hundred, and we met back up so I could give you a blow job later that evening. You were drunk off your ass. Had a hard time coming.”

Oh fuck. Embarrassment coats my skin, and I swallow hard, wishing I could forget that ever happened.

Unfortunately, I remember that night. Not one of my prouder moments.

Katrina is watching me, waiting for my reaction, and I swear it seems like she’s enjoying this. Seeing how uncomfortable her words make me feel.

“Well, it looks like you’re doing great now,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from the fact that we’ve had a sexual encounter.

I remember the night. I barely remember the girl. Just that she had a good mouth and all I could think about was her sucking my dick. It was right after I caught Jessica with Jamie, so I was feeling especially down in the dumps.

Eager to lose myself in alcohol. Drugs.

Someone else.

“I am.” Katrina scoots closer, and I catch the strong, almost overwhelming scent of her perfume. “I slept with a lot of producers to get this role, and I’m not about to fuck it up now. I have some jobs lined up.”

I’m literally starting to sweat, and my gaze goes to the server, who’s drawing closer, thank God.

I hate Los Angeles. Hollywood. It’s all the same. Everyone’s a shark. Or a snake.

And they’re all out to get you.

“That’s great,” I tell her. “Good for you.”

I’m saved by the server, who interrupts us to take our drink orders. Katrina orders some overpriced alcoholic drink, while I ask for an ice water before I turn my focus on Scarlett, who’s watching me with a slight frown on her face, a hurt glow in her gaze.

Shit. She probably overheard my conversation with Katrina.

Leaning in toward Scarlett, I murmur, “You all right?”

“Do you know her?” She inclines her head toward Katrina.

“Barely.” I shrug, desperate to play it off.

“I thought I heard her say you two met once.”

“We did.” I don’t want to go into too much detail with Scarlett when it comes to Katrina. “The typical Hollywood thing, you know? Back in my Five Car Pileup days.”

“Uh-huh.” The shrewd look Scarlett sends my way has me squirming in my seat, but thankfully, we’re interrupted by the server, who requests her drink order.

Once the server leaves, Scarlett keeps her back toward me, starting up conversation with the actor who’s sitting on her other side. He’s probably in his early thirties, and he’s been in a few movies. She knows exactly who he is but is playing it cool.

Ignoring me.

And leaving me with no choice but to talk to Katrina, since the people sitting directly across from me are involved in a hushed, serious-looking conversation.

“Your new girl is real cute.” Katrina’s voice is laced with sarcasm.

I send her a cool look. “I think so.”

“Kind of young, though.” Katrina flashes me a smile. “You into that sort of thing?”

“What are you referring to?”

“Young girls who are barely eighteen and have never sucked a dick before? Because that’s what she looks like.” Katrina laughs, the sound annoying the shit out of me. “She’s just a baby, really. Especially compared to you.”

“I’m not that much older than her.” I glance over at Scarlett yet again, but her back is still to me, tension radiating off her.

Like she’s mad.

“I’m not talking about your ages. I know what you’re all about, Tate Ramsey, and you have no business entertaining a cute little innocent thing like that heiress.” Katrina inclines her head toward Scarlett. “Send her home to Daddy and end this charade for good. Find yourself a real woman.”

Her charade remark hits home, but I ignore it. Ignore the wave of unease that sweeps over me. She has no idea what’s going on between me and Scarlett.

No one really does.

“A real woman, huh? Like you?”

Katrina’s smile is sharp. “You catch on fast. I’m sure I can inspire a few songs for you to sing.”

I frown. “You been keeping up?”

“We’ve all been keeping up with your story, Tate. It’s a good one.” She rests her hand on my arm, her nails pressing against my skin, even through my suit jacket. “We could make a better one. Hollywood actress on the rise and popular singer given a second chance? A classic story.”

“How’s your follower count?” I raise my brows at her, and she removes her hand from my arm, sending me a disgusted look.

“Is that all you’re doing it for, then? Because she has a solid follower count and makes those idiotic ‘get ready’ posts?” Katrina rolls her eyes. “I’m a serious actress. Not some dumb high schooler trying to make it as an influencer.”

“First of all, I’m not a high schooler anymore, and I’m definitely not dumb. I graduated valedictorian of my class.” Scarlett’s cool voice has us both turning in her direction. “And how serious of an actress can you be when you’re in a franchised action film and say all of . . . what? Five lines?”

Katrina glares, her lips thinning as she contemplates Scarlett. “Ten. I have ten lines.”

Scarlett’s amused. I can see it in her eyes. The way her lips curve, like she might burst out laughing at any second.

And I’m . . . proud. Proud that she stood up for herself to Katrina. Scarlett looked her right in the eye and called her out.

That was kind of hot.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Katrina pushes her chair back and rises to stand. “Spoiled little princess.”

With a huff she takes off, headed to the bathroom, no doubt. Another actress from the film goes to follow her, and I wonder if they’re going to do drugs in the bathroom.

I wouldn’t doubt it. Taking a hit of something eases the sting of taking an insult from a well-spoken and freakin’ gorgeous eighteen-year-old.

I angle myself more toward Scarlett, my back now to Katrina’s seat as I slide my arm around the back of Scarlett’s chair. “You popped off.”

Scarlett straightens her shoulders, her expression serious. “She was totally coming onto you. And insulting me in the process.”

“You put your back to me, talking to that actor,” I remind her. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I sort of was, but I realized you didn’t make me mad. She did.” Scarlett’s posture relaxes. “It felt good, saying that.”

“You were impressive.” I shift my arm closer to her, my fingers sliding over her upper arm.

She smiles. “I don’t do that enough. Voice my opinion. Defend myself.”

“You’re pretty good at it. Maybe you should do that more often.”

“In the situation we’re currently in, I have a feeling I’m going to need to,” she admits, dipping her head.

“Hey.” I slip my fingers beneath her chin and tilt her face up, her gaze meeting mine. “You have nothing to worry about. I wasn’t interested in her at all.”

Her smile is tremulous. “Is that because of—” She waves her hand, and I know what she’s referring to.

The contract. The agreement we’re locked into.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“Oh yeah?” she breathes.

“Yeah.” I dip my head, brushing her lips with mine. “I’m only interested in you.”