CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JORDAN
Casey’s bright white smile was so blinding I had no choice but to wear my sunglasses indoors. Our waitress nearly dropped her drinks after looking directly at him. Poor thing was probably going to have to wear a patch on the eye closest to him.
“So.” He cracked his knuckles. If his smile didn’t irritate me to death, it was going to be his cracking habit. “What’s going on, Jo-Jo?” Or the nickname. Crack, crack, crack. I inhaled slowly and counted to three before answering.
“You tell me.” I placed my phone on the table, screen up, and pointed to the picture of him kissing one stripper while another girl, stripper number two, was grabbing his man junk from behind. Empty champagne bottles were littered everywhere, along with drug paraphernalia, and the caption read, CARTER GOES OVER DEEP END AFTER BREAKUP WITH SUPERMODEL GIRLFRIEND.
Casey glanced at the screen, his green eyes narrowing before he rubbed the back of his neck and smirked. “Make love, not war, that’s what I always say.”
The grin was back full force.
I was immune to it.
Unfortunately for him.
It hadn’t always been like this. Casey was my very first client. Both of us had been trying to make names for ourselves. I poured everything I had into him. I’m pretty sure I didn’t sleep for an entire year. After his breakout role in a superhero franchise, he needed constant supervision. He wasn’t the type of celebrity that handled fame well, and the minute his name exploded he went from a friend who brought over Chinese takeout and texted me when I was having a rough day to jet-setting to the South of France and dating supermodels. He was one of the good ones—he’d made me adore my job—but the minute the money started pouring in, he changed right along with his bank account.
At the time, the changing friendship hurt, but I knew it was for the best. Our lives were going in completely different directions.
Besides, we’d still celebrated birthdays together and met once a week for a coffee break.
His movie roles became more demanding and suddenly he wanted to be taken more seriously. As his publicist I told him it wouldn’t be a good idea to alienate all of his avid female fans by taking a year off to do an indie flick none of them would even see. He saw Academy Award, I saw flop. I was right, and things had only unraveled since then.
“Aw, come on, Jo-Jo.” He reached for my hand, smile tight. “I was lonely.”
“Buy a dog.”
He laughed. “Guys like me don’t get dogs.”
The arrogance I could really do without. What happened to the guy who used to pull out a woman’s chair and open doors?
“No, guys like you are dogs. I’m saying get one to keep yourself from turning into one.”
“You’re funny.” He grinned and cracked his knuckles again. My right eye twitched. Oh, hell. “Hey, tell you what, why don’t we share a bottle of wine like we used to and forget this ever happened?” Was he really trying to use our past emotional connection to manipulate me? My throat ached with the swell of emotion as it continued to mount. I was ashamed that it had worked before. That a year ago I would have made it all better while he promised to be a better friend and client.
Clearly, I wasn’t the same person anymore. Was I that insecure? That attention from a good-looking man was enough to make me forgive a multitude of sins?
Casey reached for my hand again.
“No.” I jerked my phone back and tossed it into my purse. “This is the sixth time you’ve been out partying this month. A new stripper each time, and the paparazzi are having a field day. You wanna get taken seriously? Stop hitting on women half your age and buy a dog.”
“What’s with you and this dog thing?” He raised his voice. “I’m not getting a damn dog.”
“It’s like this,” I said slowly. “I’m trying to teach you how to be a responsible adult rather than a man so obsessed with his own penis he had a mold made of it to put in the middle of his apartment!”
Casey shrugged. “I’ve never gotten complaints about my art.”
“It’s not art.”
“It’s art.” He nodded. “Ask the ladies.”
“Look.” I held out my hands. “Parents buy their kids dogs to teach them how to take care of something other than themselves. Maybe it would be cruel to the dog. Maybe I’ll grab you a goldfish, because at least if it goes belly-up I won’t feel like a puppy killer.”
“Huh?” He snapped to attention. “You want me to kill a puppy?”
“Lower your voice,” I hissed.
He blinked, his eyes a little too wide.
I sighed. “Are you high?”
He paused and then chuckled. “Maybe.”
“Forget the goldfish—you couldn’t even take care of a Tamagotchi!”
“A what?”
“Never mind.” I waved him off and gripped my purse tightly with both hands. “I won’t keep doing this with you, Casey, I can’t. I’ve been with you five years. You were my first client, and I don’t want to quit, but you’ve left me no choice.”
“No!” Casey shot to his feet. “Jo-Jo, damn it, just sit! All right? Look, I’m sorry, I’m just . . . it’s been a bad month.” A bad month? Try a bad year!
“So stay sober, stop getting high, and make better choices. People will never respect you if you don’t respect yourself.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a little fun.”
“Is it fun when you’re no longer drunk or high?”
He stared at the tablecloth.
“Right.” I nodded. “Look, I’m going to go. I have a meeting with another client. Shape up. This is your last warning. If you can’t do it, I’m dropping you.”
“You don’t drop me!” he sneered. “I made you!”
And there it was. What was left of our friendship shattered in front of my eyes.
“What was that?” I said in a lethal tone. “You made me?”
Casey paled. “Jo-Jo, I didn’t mean that, I’m just—”
“Save it.”
“Wait!”
“’Bye, Casey.”
“You’re just pissed because I didn’t sleep with you!”
I froze while the restaurant fell silent. This from the man who used to tell me to wait for the right guy, the man who kissed my tears away when my college boyfriend dumped me like yesterday’s news. Casey and I never went past friendship. He’d tried kissing me once, but I told him I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Pain filled my chest as I tried to breathe evenly and think professionally.
“That’s it.” I licked my lips and tried to keep my shaking to a minimum. “We’re done.” Forget that I was going to lose a crap load of money. Sadly, I was also losing a friend. Then again—I took another look at him—he’d stopped being my friend a long time ago. I’d just chosen to ignore the fact that on the road to fame, he’d given up his soul and sold it to the devil.
I should have seen the warning signs, but I was making money too and I was proud of him.
So proud.
And now he was nothing but a high stranger, so obsessed with himself I half expected him to check his reflection in the damn spoon.
“I’ll send the terminated contract to your manager by fax.” I whispered under my breath, “’Bye, Casey.”
His eyes shuddered as he stood and flipped his chair over onto the ground. “You bitch!”
I walked away.
And when I heard dishes shatter against the floor, I began to run.
He wasn’t my problem anymore.
By the time I reached the corner, I was full-on sobbing. Hating myself for taking it so personally.
It was my fault that I’d gotten too attached.
And now . . . I was in danger of doing it again.
I looked up. As luck would have it, Reid’s face was plastered across the nearest billboard—THE TAMING OF THE SHREW: RELEASING SPRING 2016.
A vision of Casey’s first movie billboard popped into my head. Already, Reid felt more like a friend than a client. What was worse? Both of us had crossed those lines, and now it just felt like history was repeating itself, and it would, because it was Reid. What girl wouldn’t get obsessed? What director wouldn’t notice his obvious talent? Not again. I couldn’t go through it again. I wouldn’t. Why the hell didn’t I tell Ren no and save myself the heartache of watching someone else I cared about succumb to fame and fortune while I did what I did best and stayed in the background, invisible?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and wiped the tears from beneath my eyes.
Head held high, I hailed a taxi, more determined than ever to make sure Reid was a success. Maybe I needed to prove it to myself more than anyone else, that I could handle it, handle him. I needed to keep my personal feelings on lockdown, even if it meant I had to completely sacrifice my heart in the process.