Layla stood outside Tommy’s door and pressed hard on the buzzer. He wasn’t answering his phone, wasn’t responding to texts, but according to Aster, he was in there and possibly in need of help.
Being on Tommy’s permanent guest list allowed easy access to his front door, but it did nothing to get her inside. Only a key card could do that, and it wasn’t like Tommy had ever given her one.
She watched as a member of the cleaning crew entered an apartment down the hall. Maybe they would help her get in? Then again, it was just as likely Aster was wrong. Sure she’d gone to great lengths to describe the scene Madison had set, but last Layla checked, Tommy was an adult who could decide for himself who he did and didn’t want to sleep with.
Layla had pushed Madison on him for precisely that reason—a sort of test to see if there was still something between them. If she and Tommy were ever going to make it work, Layla needed to know he was really and truly over whatever he and Madison once shared.
If it turned out he was still into her, well, it wouldn’t be easy, but at least Layla would know where she stood. She’d always been more comfortable dealing with the truth. As a journalist, facts were her friends. She took the same approach to her personal life.
She was halfway to the elevator, when she found herself sneaking a peek inside the open apartment and giving a little wave. “Hi, um . . .” She forced a friendly grin and forged ahead. “My friend lives a few doors down, and he’s not answering. I was wondering if you could maybe let me in?”
Well before she could get to the end, the woman was already shaking her head.
“I know it’s against the rules,” Layla said, unwilling to surrender so easily. “But I thought maybe just this once you could—”
“You’re Layla Harrison.” The woman placed a hand on her hip as Layla tried not to cringe under her scrutiny. “And you’re asking me to help you break into Tommy Phillips’s apartment?”
“No!” Layla flashed her palms in defense. “No—not at all! Not even close. You see, Tommy’s inside—he’s in there right now. But I think he’s sick, which is why he’s not answering the door. I just want to check and make sure he’s okay. It’s totally legit. I swear. If it turns out he’s not there, you can kick me out. It’s all good.”
“Is this about the girl?”
Layla squinted, unsure what she meant.
“Because I tell you right now, this is no way to handle it. You’re in enough trouble already, don’t you think?”
Layla was horrified, but did her best to keep her face blank.
“I should call TMZ.”
At the sound of that, Layla started backing away. “Not necessary,” she said. “Forget this ever happened. Sorry to have bothered you.”
She could feel the woman’s piercing gaze as she retraced her steps. Stopping before Tommy’s door, she rang the buzzer again, then composed a text to Aster explaining how it was none of their business. If Tommy decided to hook up with Madison, that was his choice. Layla was choosing to move on before she could embarrass herself any more than she already had.
She was about to hit send, when the door swung open and Tommy swayed unsteadily before her.
“Tommy? Omigod!” Layla scrambled toward him, catching him by the arm before he could topple over.
His eyes were glassy, his face pale, and there was a trail of what looked to be vomit running down the front of his T-shirt. She started to veer him toward the couch, but there was more vomit on the floor, so she steered him toward the bedroom instead.
“Are you okay?” She settled him onto the mattress and pulled his soiled T-shirt over his head. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
He squinted but couldn’t quite focus. “I think she drugged me.” His chin bobbed against his chest.
“Shit—just—” Layla glanced around wildly. She had no idea what to do. Racing for his bathroom, she grabbed a clean hand towel, ran some cold water over it, and pressed it against his forehead and cheeks. “What did you drink—what did she give you?”
“Tequila. Couple shots. I think she . . . she set me . . .” He tried to form words, but all he could manage was an incoherent mumble.
“She set you up. I know. Don’t talk, just—” She looked at him. “Or maybe you should talk? I don’t know—crap!”
Panicked, she reached for her phone, about to call 911, when she remembered Aster’s warning and texted Mateo instead. He was the only one she knew, aside from her dad, who had experience with these things.
What do you do when someone ODs?
She hit send, then waited impatiently. A few seconds later, he replied.
Call 911.
What else?
Are they conscious?
She looked at Tommy and typed:
Yes.
Call 911.
It’s complicated—it’s Tommy.
I’ll be right there.
You don’t have to.
On my way.
In the meantime?
Stay with him—not far.
She eased Tommy back against the pillows and checked his pulse. She didn’t know if it was slower than usual or faster than usual. She was mainly relieved to confirm that he had one.
“You okay?” she asked.
His head bobbed in a way she took as a yes. Then she watched as he curled into a fetal position and hugged himself at the waist. The sight of him looking so vulnerable left her struggling between wanting to protect him, and wanting to find Madison and make her pay for doing this to him.
“Don’t move,” she instructed, quickly realizing the ridiculousness of the statement. He was in no shape to wander. It was amazing he’d made it to the front door to let her in. “I’ll be right back!” She raced for the den to try to get a handle on what Madison might’ve given him.
It was just as Aster described: ap bottle of Unrivaled tequila, two shot glasses, and Tommy’s favorite Led Zeppelin T-shirt balled up on the floor. She frowned, trying to imagine what might’ve occurred for it to find its way from Madison’s body to the ground. Hating herself for even thinking that way, she forced herself to look past it to the note left on the table, tucked under his phone.
Tommy-
I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. You’ve been nothing but kind from the start, and I owe you in ways I’ll never be able to repay. I hope someday I’ll have the chance to explain, but mostly I hope you’ll find it in your heart to not hate me—even though I’ve now given you every reason to turn against me.
Just so you know, you ingested two hydrocodone pills along with two shots of tequila. I didn’t try to kill you and you didn’t OD. At the very worst, you’ll fall asleep and wake up with a raging headache and a heart that’s hardened toward me.
M.
Layla had just finished reading the note when she heard Mateo at the front door.
“Where is he?” He rushed to her side.
“It’s okay. He’s okay. Or at least he will be. I think he just needs to sleep it off.”
She handed him the note, then reached for Tommy’s phone.
“Wait—this is from Madison? She was here?” Mateo stared in what could only be described as disbelief.
“She was.” Layla sighed. “But not anymore.” She motioned him into the bedroom, where she perched on the mattress and pressed the wet towel to Tommy’s forehead. “Are we doing the right thing?” She looked at Mateo. “Should we take him to the hospital?”
Mateo paced the length of the room. Ignoring her question, he said, “I can’t believe this! After everything you went through—getting arrested, jail time, the tabloids—and you’ve actually been hiding her all along?”
“No,” she murmured. “Not all along.” She checked Tommy’s pulse again. He seemed fine. Or at least she hoped that was the case.
“Why haven’t you told anyone? Why isn’t this breaking news?”
Mateo was incredulous, and while she didn’t blame him, she also knew the explanation she was about to give would sound completely ridiculous to anyone who hadn’t been there when they’d found her. “Because Tommy, Aster, Ryan, and I unanimously agreed not to tell anyone. We’re the only ones who know. We truly thought we were helping her. Clearly, she played us.”
“I don’t get it,” Mateo said. “Why would you agree to help her?”
“It’s a really long story.” Layla sighed, in no mood for a retelling. “And it’s hardly worth getting into at this point.”
“Don’t be mad at her,” Tommy mumbled as he struggled to sit. “It’s not her fault.”
“I’m not mad,” Mateo shot back. “Just—” He shook his head. “Never mind. You okay? You want some water or something?”
Tommy shook his head. Looking at Layla, he said, “What’d she give me?”
Mateo handed over the note.
Tommy scanned it, then tossed it aside. “I feel like an ass.”
“Don’t,” Layla said. She thought of the crumpled T-shirt. Madison had set him up, pretended to seduce him, then fled—oldest trick in the book. Though she wasn’t about to tell him that and make him feel worse. “Why don’t you sleep it off? We’ll stay with you, if you want.”
Tommy shook his head. “No, I’m not . . .” He acted like he was about to get up, but Layla pressed a hand to his shoulder to stop him.
“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere. For one thing, I’m pretty sure she took your car. That’s probably why she drugged you, to get the keys. For another, you’re under the influence. So you can either sleep it off or chill, but you’re not leaving until it’s worked its way through your system.”
“Yes, Mom.” Reluctantly, he sank back against the pillows, but the look he gave her was grateful.
“Did you find anything at Ira’s?” Layla perched beside him as Mateo took a chair just opposite.
Tommy’s lids drifted shut in a way that made Layla think he was falling asleep. When he opened them again, he said, “Check my phone.”
Layla handed it to him, watching as he input the passcode, then showed her the screen.
“Why are you showing me this?” She took the phone, struggling to make sense of why Tommy would show her a picture of a topless girl. Was he trying to emotionally torture her? If so, it was working. If that was what he was into, she could never compete. More importantly, she shouldn’t have to.
“I messed up,” Tommy said, rubbing his knuckles against his tired eyes. “He knew I was there. The pic is Ira’s way of screwing with me.”
“I don’t get it.” She looked at Tommy.
“There’s nothing to get.”
Layla was about to return the phone when Mateo said, “Can I see that?”
She smirked. “At your own risk. It’s R rated.” She started to laugh, but the look on Mateo’s face cut her short.
She watched as he stared at the image. When he lifted his gaze, he said, “You sure Ira took this?”
Tommy nodded. “Positive.”
“But why would Ira give you a picture of Heather Rollins?” Mateo glanced between Tommy and Layla.
“Wait—what?” Layla grasped at the phone to take another look. “You sure?” She studied Mateo.
His face flushed in embarrassment. “The broken-heart tattoo on her finger gives it away.”
“Lots of people have those.” Layla needed to be absolutely sure and not jump to conclusions.
“Trust me.” Mateo cringed. “I recognize the rest too.”
Layla dropped her gaze. Now she felt embarrassed for both of them.
“So, what’s going on?” Tommy inched up the headboard. “Are you saying Heather Rollins is with Ira? Because I thought she was with you.”
Mateo swiftly averted his gaze, and Layla couldn’t help but feel bad on his behalf. He hated gossip, loathed drama, but now, despite his best efforts to avoid all of that, he found himself right at the center. “They know each other. That’s all I can confirm. As for Heather and me, we had a thing, but it’s over.”
“But why would Ira do that?” Layla glanced between Mateo and Tommy. “Give you this picture, I mean?”
“To taunt me, mess with me.” Tommy scowled. “Let me know he knew I was there.”
“But why wouldn’t he just expose you?” she pressed. “Why would he be so discreet?”
Tommy covered his face with his hands, allowing the silence to stretch between them. When he finally looked at them, he confided about the video surveillance at Night for Night, and how the pictures had recently resurfaced despite Ira’s promise. “He’s evil,” he said. “He likes to screw with people.”
It was clear how much it hurt him to say it. Layla and her mom were estranged, but she’d never believed her mom was purposely plotting against her. She couldn’t imagine feeling that way about a parent.
“What if we’ve been reading this all wrong?” she said, unsure if she was trying to make him feel better, or if she was truly onto something. “What if Ira hasn’t been out to get us at all? What if he’s not behind any of it? What if it’s Heather?”
“That’s crazy.” Mateo was quick to refute it. Maybe a little too quick?
“But is it?” Layla looked at Tommy, who merely shrugged in reply. “Thing is,” she said, unwilling to abandon the idea now forming in her mind, “Heather was obsessed with Madison. She kept loads of pictures of her on her phone, which always struck me as odd.”
“She admired Madison,” Mateo said. “And they were friends. She explained to me once how she used to study her like an opponent before a big match—”
“And that didn’t strike you as weird?”
“Hollywood is weird. It’s also really competitive. Heather’s constant scrutiny of Madison was about trying to best her—not ruin her.”
Layla took her time to consider. While it wasn’t too difficult to bend her theory in a way that fit, obviously Mateo knew Heather better than any of them. Besides, what possible motive could Heather have for doing all that? Never mind the fact that she seemed too self-involved to have the sort of patience required to pull off such a stunt.
Heavy with regret, she realized they were right back where they’d started. “So what now?” she asked.
She hadn’t expected an answer, which was why she was surprised when Tommy said, “After I force myself to vomit, I’m going to take a shower, then track down Madison once and for all. Care to join me?”
“I’ll brew some coffee,” Layla said, as Mateo followed her into the kitchen.