I’ve been a wreck since the video was leaked last night.

And of course, it had to come on the heels of the best sex of my goddamn life.

Sawyer still hasn’t returned my calls, and honestly, it’s worrying me. I know he usually visits his parents on the weekend, and I’m just hoping that is what’s going on now. But deep down, I know it isn’t like him to go AWOL for so long. He’s never coped well with stress, and the last few months his frustration over being a product for his studio has increasingly bothered him. I can only imagine how those photos have tipped him over the edge.

After this meal, I’m gonna stop at his apartment and find out what’s going on. I know he’d do the same thing for me.

I head to Langer’s, a classic LA delicatessen that I grew up eating at with my dad. He’d always get us the Rubens and now it’s only right I introduce Jules to the iconic sandwich.

She’s already here when I arrive, looking as sweet as the pie they serve at Langer’s. But she’s more than a single slice, she is whipped-cream-on-top perfection. Just looking at her standing, waiting for a table, reading the menu, her long legs in denim cut-offs, gets my cock hard. How could it not? The memory of those legs wrapped around me last night, her tits bouncing, her eyes closed in ecstasy... it’s enough for me to lose my load right here.

Damn, she’s a gift I didn’t see coming.

But I intend on unwrapping her over and over again.

“Hey,” I say, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist. I kiss her ear, unable to resist, and her laugh leaves a flutter of sparkles in its wake. She sounds light. Breezy.

The gust of fresh air I need today.

“Someone is in a good mood,” I tell her.

“I didn’t realize we were on kissing-in-public terms.” She spins to face me, a smirk on her face.

“Want me to take it back?”

She shakes her head, patting my chest, leaving her hand there. “You’re bad, you know that?”

“So bad it’s good, right?”

She gives me a small laugh. “Something like that.”

A waitress leads us to a table and I order for both of us, not needing to look at a menu. Jules grins, teasing me for being such a man.

“It’s nice to hear you laugh. I need something to lighten the goddamn mood of my life right now.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks, not realizing that when shit goes down at the club it fucking kills me.

“The shit that went down last night—with that video being leaked on the gossip sites… Just a headache, you know?”

Her eyes fall, her lip twists. “I know. Colette was upset. I mean at first it was novel when it happened to Gretch. Like, kinda exciting. But that video…” Jules shakes her head. “You can’t exactly spin it in a good way.” She sighs, looking back at the reader board menu. “I’m just glad it didn’t affect either of us. Do you think it’s going to mess with business, for the club? Like, your job?”

I run my hand over my jaw. “I don’t know what it means yet. Jordan, the manager, called a staff meeting for later today. The employees who dance at the club are pretty stressed. People sign non-disclosure agreements when they enter the club. Breaking that is idiotic, for anyone.”

“What would happen?” Jules asks as the waitress brings us Cokes and our sandwiches. She picks up a fry and looks down, not meeting my eyes.

I try not read into it. But why is she interested in the NDA?

“The person who broke the agreement would be sued.” I pick up my sandwich and start eating. Damn it’s as good as I remembered.

Her eyes raise to meet mine. “People are crazy. Eventually, the person who is doing this is going to be found out. I don’t understand how people can act like they are invincible. When you play with fire, eventually you’re going to go up in flames.”

Her words give me the confidence in her character I already believed.

“It’s crazy though, I haven’t heard from my buddy Sawyer since the stuff with his photos went down.”

She scrunches up her face. “You’re friends with him?”

I nod. “Yeah. We’ve been friends forever. He’s helped me through the hardest times in my life.”

“Really? How did you meet? No offense, but it seems like you’d be in different circles growing up. Aren’t his parents famous too?”

I never date women that start asking personal questions. I went to boarding school and my parents died before I graduated. I became a man without people connecting me to my family name.

After their death, I started going by Callahan—my middle name. With that easy change, the old me disappeared. The sad truth is, no one has come looking. Just another reason I think of this city as a television set. Nothing here is real. And if Sawyer weren’t still here, I wouldn’t be either. But he’s the only person who knew me before, who still knows me now. His parents invite me to family functions, and I go, so long as no one in the industry will be there. They respect my boundaries. Hell, they understand them.

They know what I lost, how I lost it. Who is to blame.

I hate the fucking paparazzi. Their crazed hunger for a story is why my parents crashed. Why I lost my family.

Sawyer’s parents get it and after that event, they stepped away from the limelight too.

All of us are watching Sawyer closely, wanting to make sure he doesn’t get so caught up in the trap that he loses himself.

Anyway, no one who comes to the club is looking to make eyes with the bartender. They come to fuck a celebrity. So, even though I’ve recognized people from my childhood, no one has put two and two together.

But Jules is different.

She did make eyes with the bartender.

In fact, she made a hell of a lot more with him.

“Sawyer and I were neighbors as kids is all.”

She rests her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. “Huh, I’m trying to mesh that with my idea of you. So, besides being a bartender who rides a bike you also grew up somewhere super ritzy?”

“Does that bother you?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, sorta.”

My brow furrows. “How so?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not trying to be weird. Sorry if I am.”

“No,” I tell her. “Be honest with me. That is one of the things I like about you, Jules. You say it like it is. Even last night when we were in that room, you said what you meant. Asked for things you wanted, how you wanted them. You aren’t hiding behind anything. You are real. And in a city like this, that means a hell of a lot.”

She watches me as if considering my words. “It’s pretty simple really. I just don’t really like the LA scene and I assumed you didn’t either. That is what appealed to me about you when we first met.”

“You mean it wasn’t my charm and good looks?” I grin.

“Shut up,” she says, throwing a fry at me. “Yes, your looks, sure, but throwing punches at those thugs really won you a lot of points.”

“There is a point system?” I laugh.

She tries to hide a smile. “Mmhmm. Really complicated one.”

“And hating LA is part of your rubric?”

“Exactly.” She taps her fingers on her chin. “But maybe I was miscalculating. Maybe this place is your jam.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You think if I were into the LA scene I’d take you to the oldest deli in the city and make you eat pastrami? Because I’m telling you, sweetie, most of the douchebags in this city who took you out for lunch would force feed you micro greens and order you low-cal white wine. Your public image would be as important to them as their own.”

She scrunches up her eyes. “I don’t know, Cal. Maybe you’re just playing me. Everyone in this town has an angle. What’s yours?”

My jaw tightens, we’re covering territory that is not first-date worthy. And much too intense for Langer’s.

“Look,” she says, reaching for the dessert card on the table. “I don’t hold back or keep my cards close, or whatever. I’m an open book.”

“Then what is your angle, Jules?”

She drops the dessert card. “I’m pretty simple. I’m here to make enough money to pay off my dad’s farm and then go back home.”

“That’s it?”

She sighs as if I said the wrong thing. “Isn’t that everything?”

Her words are simple, but they are also exactly right.

“Touché.”

“So,” she says slowly, “I’m going to order some apple pie and you are going to tell me something real. If your parents are Sawyer-Bennett-rich, why are you a bartender at the Fuck Club? Why aren’t you a guest?”