They left the restaurant amid a flurry of camera flashes and calls of Riley’s name.  Word apparently had leaked that he and a couple of B-listers were there, so the vultures, as Riley called them, seemed to be out in full force.  Vanessa was not sure what to do, until Riley slid his hand into hers and led her calmly to the car already pulled up to the valet’s station.  She kept her head down and her eyes toward Riley.  He looked quickly in her direction and smiled shyly.  His hand was warm, gentle and strong, and it became a little sweaty on the short trek from the restaurant’s entrance to the car.  Those twenty seconds holding his hand felt very easy and natural, and they thrilled her and terrified her all at once.  He helped her in the car, shut the door, and walked around the front to the driver’s side.  She felt a little dizzy from the experience, knowing full well that it had everything to do with holding Riley’s hand.

As they drove away, she caught her breath.  “You have to endure that every time you are out in public?” she asked, feeling quite overwhelmed, not acknowledging that it wasn’t solely because of the paparazzi.

He glanced toward her, serious expression on his face.  “It’s part of the job.  Are you okay?”

She studied his profile and noticed his jaw clench and release three or four times.  “Yeah, but you aren’t.”  She reached out with the intent to touch him and quickly retreated.  “If you hate this so much, why do you go out?”

“I promised Charles.  He says an actor needs to stay in the public’s mind to stay current.”  He shot another glance her direction with slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Why do you feel so indebted to Charles?”

“He’s my friend.”  Something in his quiet answer made her doubt his sincerity.

“Is he really?  A friend would see how much you don’t enjoy this and wouldn’t ask you to torture yourself on a weekly basis.”  She finally resorted to tucking her hands under her legs so it was easier to resist touching him.

“I love what I do.” He looked in her eyes briefly to punctuate his honesty.  “The unpleasantness comes with the territory.”

“But does he really think that you have to do all this so often?  Remember, he is not completely selfless in keeping you in the limelight.  Because of you, he makes a lot of money.” 

“Okay,” Riley said after a long moment’s silence, “here’s his reasoning.  If a celebrity hides from the press and gets all ‘don’t invade my privacy,’ the vultures hound him more.  Many celebrities get followed everywhere they go.  Luckily, I am not stalked like some of my co-stars.  Charles insists that staying visible lessens the chance of them digging through my garbage or hanging out at the end of my driveway.  ”

“So Charles says.”  Vanessa turned to look at Riley.  “I’m just not so sure he has your absolute best interests at heart.  I know he seems to care, but bottom line is he is protecting his investment.”

He stopped at a red light and faced her, gaze piercing through to her soul.  “Well if protecting his investment led him to care enough to bring you to me, then I’m okay with it.”

She froze, confused, captured by his gaze, not sure if he was agreeing to therapy or suggesting something more. 

She was vaguely aware of the buzz emanating from her purse, but she ignored it. 

“So does that mean you are agreeing to therapy, Mr. Tate?”  Awaiting his answer made her nervous.  Wait, Nessa, are you nervous because you want him to say yes, or are you hoping he says no so you can be with him? Holy hell!  She wanted to close her eyes to avoid the panic, but his eyes urged hers not to break contact. 

Her phone signaled again.  And a third time.

“I think you are wanted,” he said with a glint in his eye, and panic curled at her insides.  Wait, you want me?

On cue, the phone sounded again.  “Oh,” she smiled at herself.  “I’m sorry, I know I said this is rude, but apparently this is urgent.”  She dug for her phone and searched for the texts.  “It might be my dad, or…”  She read the first text.  “Oh. My. God.”  She read the second.  “What the HELL?” 

“Vanessa?” Riley questioned.

Ignoring his questioning with anger boiling, she read the third and fourth.  “What the FUCK am I supposed to do now?”

“What’s wrong?”  He pulled over the car and threw it in park, concern flooding his face.

“If he thinks he can just push me out . . . Where am I supposed to go?  That lying sack of…”

“Vanessa!” he grabbed her hands.  “Look at me.”  She slowly focused on his face, breathing heavily.  “Now, deep breaths like you do.”  She followed his advice, not too panicked that she could not make note that he had noticed her habits.  “There you go.  Now, tell me, what is wrong.”

“What’s wrong?  I’m homeless!  That’s what’s wrong.”  Anger welled.  “Your FRIEND just kicked ME out of MY apartment.  Says he needs to know WHERE to send MY stuff.  Says you told him I wasn’t going to treat you and that he needs the place for an ‘important executive’ and I’m just being dismissed.  Just like that.  No discussion.  No asking.  No warning.  Just takes it upon himself to box up my shit and kick me to the curb.”

“Wait, Charles?  How can he kick you out of your apartment?”  Riley’s calm tone and his gentle thumbs rubbing lazy circles on her hands were working to settle her down.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you.  He let me stay in the apartment his agency owns until our business was complete.”

A strange look flashed on Riley’s face.  “You don’t have your own place?”  His thumbs stopped and his hands went slack.

“I did, but I am scheduled on a flight back to Texas on Friday.  I moved into his company apartment Monday so I could stay here for the month, and if you agreed to this whole setup, I would delay my flight until next month.”  Anger filled her again.  “Until HE found a more important tenant.” She pulled her hands away from his.  “Dammit, that son of a bitch!  What the hell do I do now?  He says my stuff is already out of the apartment.”  She handed him her phone so he could read the texts for himself. 

She closed her eyes and breathed against the headrest as he read the texts on her phone and resorted to counting her breaths.  After a few minutes, he placed the phone on her lap, careful not to touch her.  She opened one eye to see his arms folded over the steering wheel and his head resting on his forearms.  She rested her head back and closed her eyes again, trying to clear her mind.

Wordlessly, he put the car in drive and started down the street.  She risked peeking at him occasionally, but his face revealed nothing.  After about five minutes, he spoke.  “Relax, it’ll all be handled when we get to the house.  Don’t worry.” 

“Easy to say when you’re not homeless.”

 

***

 

Once at Riley’s, he led her through the house out to the back patio and settled her in a lounge chair with a bottle of water, laying her purse and cell within arm’s reach.  “Listening to the waves always relaxes me.  Will you be okay for a few minutes while I change?  We’ll figure something out when you’re calmer.”

Vanessa nodded.  He left her out there to her yoga breathing and wave listening, wishing right then she had a fresh tube of cookie dough.  Hey movie star, if you have any valium or other downers, that would be welcomed, too.  She smiled at that, not sure why.  Could be because Vanessa had never done a drug in her life, minus caffeine and alcohol, and no one ever counts those.  Her willingness to try one now was beyond ludicrous and she knew it.  But a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach reminded her that the smile could also be from Riley taking care of her.  The only man in her life who had ever taken care of her was her father.  She usually liked to take care of herself, but tonight, it felt damn comforting to have someone else take charge. 

Don’t get all giddy there, girl.  He’s just being nice.  Remember?  You’re homeless.  You really should be calling hotels to see if you can find a room.  But what will I do with all my stuff?  Shit, Nessa, now is not the time to get all loopy and relaxed and stupid over this guy. 

Can’t happen. 

Shouldn’t happen. 

Might happen? 

No.  Get up, get your phone and start calling. 

She threw her legs over the side of the chair and grabbed her cell phone.  The screen revealed the last text from her phone, only she didn’t recognize it.  She read it, and the ire she felt earlier was nothing compared to what she felt now.

Flying out of the chair and into the house, she literally ran into Riley, and he grabbed her arms to steady her.  Unable to contain the full force of her anger, she punched her balled fists once into his chest causing him to break his hold. 

“You presumptuous little prick.  You texted Charles from MY phone.  Deliver my stuff HERE?” His eyes widened in surprise and he backed away.  She backed him into the living room and didn’t let it slow her down.  “What, you think I’ll just shack up with you?  Was this all part of your plan?  Get me here?  Seduce me with your nice guy act?  Did you tell Charles to kick me out?  I bet that’s it.  You asked him to do it.  Decided you wanted sexual healing after all.” 

She knew, based on his reactions to her accusations, that they were ridiculous, but she was not exactly the most rational person on the planet when she was this angry.  As if her fury was contagious, his expression twisted into anger.

“And what about you, DOCTOR Taylor?  Don’t you know what that apartment is for?  Were you intending to be one of Charles’s girls, or are you that stupid?  Feeling bad about getting replaced?”

“STUPID?  Replaced?  What the hell are you talking about?”

“The apartment.  The one by the beach?  It’s where he puts up all his conquests.  The ones he convinces to sleep with him while he helps them get their big break.  Was that you, Doctor?  Now he’s found someone new?  Stings, doesn’t it?  What did he promise you?  Is getting to treat me your reward for sleeping with him, or is it the prelude?”

His accusation only added fuel to her fire.

“THERE WILL BE NO TREATING YOU, MR. TATE!  I’M DONE!  FINISHED!” 

“GOOD!”

She turned to leave, and her heel twisted in the carpet sending her sideways into the fireplace.  It felt like it happened in slow motion, yet there was nothing she could do to stop her momentum.  Her right arm ran across the sharp edge of the fireplace poker, ripping her upper arm wide open.  The pain didn’t register right away, until she saw the blood.  It felt like fire.  She whimpered and grabbed her arm.

He was over to her in a second’s time.  “Oh my God, Vanessa, you’re bleeding.”  He pulled his t-shirt over his head and began to wrap her arm.  “I think this is pretty bad.  You need stitches.  Can you get up?”

She rounded her legs beneath her to stand and blinding pain pierced up her right leg.  “Ow, ow, ow.  No, I can’t get up.”  She tried to force bravado, but she felt drained of all energy.  He moved to help her.  She slapped at the air.  “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

“Well, it’s like this, Dr. Taylor.  You are cut and bleeding pretty badly, right over my white carpet, I might add.  Now, you can let me get you to the hospital, or you can try to do it yourself and risk passing out behind the wheel, if you could even get to your car or drive if you did.”  He stood and ran his hand through his hair.  “I’m thinking about throwing you over my shoulder caveman style.  You’re not in any position to do much about it.”  His face took on a no-nonsense, I-dare-you-to-argue look.

“Ugh, fine.”

He carefully lifted her from her left side into his arms, and she became brutally aware of his shirtless state; his warm bare chest rubbing against her was too much to take. It was too hard to resist nuzzling him.

“Wait,” she began, focusing on not speaking through clenched teeth.  “Can you please go put on a shirt?  And you might want to grab a couple of towels for the car just in case I bleed more.  I’d hate for you to have to be inconvenienced by cleaning MY blood out of YOUR car.” 

“Oh,” looking down at his chest, “right.  I’ll go change really fast.”  He sat her gently on the couch.  “But could you try not to bleed on my couch?”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best.”