Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

Saylor

Having a boyfriend I don't get to see very often is the weirdest thing ever.

Having Canyon for a boyfriend is still a little strange to me too.

We're together, committed, but still getting to know each other while simultaneously navigating a plethora of unfamiliar waters.

The biggest roadblock is Ally.

She essentially dictates not just how much time we can spend together, but when we can spend it. We both have responsibilities, so it's not like we can sneak off for a quickie whenever we feel like it. My time is more flexible, obviously, since I work for myself, and I have Stevie helping at the gallery now.

It's been great, though, because I've finished two paintings this week, and I'm at the gallery today hanging them. Canyon left on his road trip this morning, Stevie hasn't yet arrived since she's taking Ally to school, and I have a few moments to myself as I putter in the gallery.

I sit at my desk and click on the sign-up sheet for the adult class that's starting tomorrow night. It looks like there's a new request for information, and I open it excitedly.

Stupid whore.

I'll be watching.

Will you be letting them paint you naked?

I'd sign up for that.

Someday, I'm going to see you naked.

And I'm really looking forward to it.

Bile fills my throat, and I clap a hand over my mouth.

What the hell is happening?

I've gotten hate mail before. It comes with the territory when you're famous. But this feels personal. Like someone really is watching. And that's terrifying.

I immediately forward the email to Rage, and he calls me a minute later.

"When did you get this?" he demands.

"I don't know when it was sent, but I just opened my email. I'm at the gallery."

"All right. I'm coming down there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I want to make sure he knows you're not alone."

"You think he's actually watching?" Fear coils through my gut, and I look around, as if I might spot him.

"I don't know, but let's not chance it." He disconnects, and I'm suddenly chilled.

I want to call Canyon, but he has enough on his plate. Besides, I have Rage, and while I don't have romantic feelings for him, he makes me feel safe. I just wish he could be here twenty-four-seven. Unfortunately, he's Chains' right-hand man at the security company, so he's in charge of a lot more than just my account.

Stevie comes in a little while later, startling me, and she wiggles a box from Trejo's Coffee & Donuts.

"What did you do?" I demand, laughing as she puts the box and two steaming cups of coffee on the counter. The donuts from the well-known actor's shop are incredible, but also incredibly fattening. I almost never indulge but today feels like the kind of day where I might need to.

"We deserve a treat," she replies, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. Then she pauses, cocking her head. "What's wrong? You look pale."

I nod my head in the direction of the computer, and she leans over to read it.

"Oh, fuck." She looks at me. "You need to call Rage."

"Already done." The burly bodyguard comes walking in through the back. "And you guys need to keep the back door locked during the day."

"It's my fault," Stevie says. "I just came in and my hands were full. What's going on?"

"Rage." I reach out to touch his arm. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Of course." He squeezes my hand and looks around. "Everything quiet today?"

"Thankfully. But I'm a nervous wreck."

"You don't need to be. I'll be working from here today if I can commandeer somewhere to put my laptop."

"Absolutely." I motion to the table by the counter. "Make yourself at home."

"Want a donut?" Stevie asks him, wiggling the box.

He lifts his brows. "Those are my favorite."

"Better you eat them than me," I say, plucking one and taking a bite. The cinnamon flavor is a delight, and I close my eyes. "Fuck. That's good."

"We can go for a run later," Stevie says, taking a frosting-covered donut from the box.

"I can work you guys out," Rage offers, reaching for the box.

Stevie snorts.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Wha—?" Rage frowns. Then his ears turn red as he realizes how we've misconstrued what he said. "Oh, I didn't mean?—"

Stevie and I burst out laughing.

"We're yanking your chain," I say.

"Geez. A guy needs to be careful these days."

"Yes, but not with us," I reply. "We're low-key around here."

"Anyway, what are you doing to catch this fucker?" Stevie demands. "I mean, this is ridiculous. And to be honest, it makes me a little nervous to be here at night now."

"Are you staying open late again?" Rage asks, since I usually close at six except on Fridays, when I stay open later.

"I'm teaching some art classes," I say. "Wednesday nights from six-thirty to eight-thirty for the next six weeks. And then Wednesdays and Thursdays starting next week."

"For now, I'll either come myself or send one of the other guys. Grim might be available."

"Rage, Grim…" Stevie shakes her head. "Why do you all sound so grumpy and dark?"

"Because we are?" He deadpans.

I chuckle.

He has a point.

Grumpy or not, I'm glad he's here.

* * *

I stay home on Friday, working on a new collection of art. Instead of watercolors, I decide to use oil for these, giving them a rich, more vibrant look. The series will be three cityscapes, showing the same row of buildings at dawn, dusk, and midnight. In light of everything going on, the pencil sketch I start with is shadowy and darker than I'd been planning, and it takes a while to find the right vibe.

I'm completely lost in my work when I realize my phone is ringing, and I answer absently. "Hey, Stevie—what's up?"

"I need a favor!" she says in a harried voice.

"What's wrong?"

"I got a call to fill in for a music video. The money's good and it's right here in Hollywood. But I'd have to go right now, and that means closing the shop and you'd have to pick up Ally from school."

"Oh."

The gallery isn't a big deal, but I don't even know where Ally's school is.

"I'll text you all the info," Stevie continues. "Please say yes. I haven't done any work in months. I really need to get back out there."

"Of course, I'll say yes," I say. "The gallery isn't a priority."

"But Ally is."

"Yes. And it's no big deal. Am I allowed to pick her up?"

"When Canyon added me to the list of people that can pick her up, I told him to add you too, just in case. Sometimes shit happens, and with him out of town, we need back-up."

"Okay, good idea. So, what do I have to do?"

She explains the process and I make a few notes on a nearby pad.

Security is a good thing, but there are a lot of steps to enforce it.

Nevertheless, an hour later I'm heading to the elite private school Canyon enrolled Ally in, pulling into a long line of Escalades, Mercedes and other high-end vehicles. I have my ID ready since I don't have the little sticker you're supposed to have on your vehicle, and a few minutes later, a security guard approaches to check it. Once he finds my name on some list on the iPad he's carrying, he smiles pleasantly and moves on to the next car.

That was relatively easy.

Ally will probably be less pleased, but I plan to do my best to try to win her over. Stevie said she'd texted her to give her a head's up.

Sure enough, a surly-faced Ally gets into my car, tossing her backpack in the back.

"Hi," I say pleasantly. "How was your first week?"

"Awesome." Sarcasm drips from her lips. "I have a whole weekend's worth of homework to do to catch up in all my classes, so yay me."

"Would you like some help?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, thanks."

"Okay." I shrug and pull into traffic. "I have to work for a couple of hours, then I thought we'd get dinner."

"Why is Stevie doing a modeling job today? Doesn't she run the gallery for you?"

"Well, yes and no. She doesn't run it, but she's been helping out because she's been bored while she's recovering from the surgery she had in December. But she's actually a very successful model and actress. When she got this call today, she really wanted to do it because it'll be her first time since her accident."

"Her accident?" For the first time, there's empathy and concern in Ally's voice.

This isn't my story to tell, but it's also not a secret. All Ally would have to do is Google, and she'd get all the gory details. I'm surprised Stevie hasn't told her anything, but maybe this will help us bond a little.

"Stevie's ex-fiancé was a terrible guy," I say carefully. "He was very jealous and controlling. He started trying to alienate her from everyone. Her friends, her family, even her work. So she broke up with him and he wasn't happy. He hit her and pushed her down a flight of stairs." It was actually uglier than that, but I figure that's enough detail to get the point across.

"He threw her down the stairs?" Ally sounds shocked.

"He actually pushed her over the second-floor railing of her townhouse. At the time, she was pregnant, and after the fall, she started bleeding. They had to do major surgery to keep her from bleeding to death."

"Oh, no. She lost the baby?"

I nod. "Yes, she did. And she was badly hurt. So the job she took today is very important to her state of mind. She hasn't worked since then."

"Oh. I didn't know. She never said anything."

"Well, I think she's been trying to cheer you up since she knows how much you miss your mom."

"Yeah. I guess." Without another word, she pulls out a pair of ear buds and puts them in her ears.

That's probably better. I'd been planning to ask her if she had any ideas for dinner since Canyon had said he probably wouldn't get home until the middle of the night, but that can wait.

We pull up to the house, and she looks around. "This is where you live?"

"Yes."

"You rent half of a duplex?" she asks, her voice laced with disdain. "Didn't you used to be a Baywatch actress or something?"

I try not to react. "Actually, I own the duplex. I live on one side and rent out the other. And Baywatch started before I was born, so no, I was never on that show."

"Whatever." She gets out and we walk to the front door.

The smell of paint hits us as we walk in, and she wrinkles her nose. "Do you paint at home?"

"I do. I'll open all the windows to air the place out. I've been trying to create some new pieces for the gallery, so I've been working all week. I guess I'm oblivious to the smell."

"Right." She drops her backpack on the floor and looks around. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You could get a head start on your homework," I suggest. "That way you have less to do when Canyon gets back."

"He's probably going to spend the weekend with you anyway," she mutters.

"The team has a game tomorrow night," I reply. "So probably not. He'll need to get a good night's sleep and then he'll be at the arena fairly early. Do you want to go? We can probably sit in the owner's box."

She looks momentarily intrigued but then seems to catch herself.

"Nah. I'd rather sit with Stevie."

Except Stevie usually sits in the owner's box.

Well, it's not my job to burst her bubble.

She'll find out on her own.