I put my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Heather Myles?” a female voice said.

My heart fell. My head had known Jett wouldn’t be calling me. My heart, however, had been hoping. Just like that, my hopes were dashed.

“Yes, this is Heather.”

“Hi there, Heather. My name is Alicia Hopkins.”

Alicia Hopkins? The hotel heiress? Why was she calling me? Maybe it was a different Alicia Hopkins.

“Yes, hello.”

“I was wondering if you would be able to meet with me sometime.”

“Regarding what?”

“We have a mutual friend. Jett Draconis.”

Of course. Perhaps she was looking for a screenwriter. What had Jett put her up to? Sure, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t see straight, and then to ease my own guilty conscience, I’m going to set you up on a bunch of potential projects.

“Jett and I aren’t exactly friends,” I said. “What is it that I can help you with, Ms. Hopkins?”

“Call me Alicia. I just have some information I thought you might be interested in.”

“What kind of information?”

“Nothing that I want to discuss over the phone. Are you free for dinner this evening?”

Free? It was Sunday, and I didn’t have a shift at the diner. Why not? “Sure. Just tell me where you’ll be.”

“You seem to have caught Jett’s attention.” Alicia Hopkins, her frosted tips held perfectly in place with what must have been shellac, smiled and took a sip of what appeared to be a dirty martini with extra olives.

Way to get right to the point. I’d barely sat down. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. But first, why don’t you tell me why you asked me here?”

“We’ll get to that. First, tell me about your relationship with Jett.”

What relationship? We’d had a fuck. It had been amazing. Why would she care anyway? “I don’t have a relationship with Jett.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not naïve. I know you’ve been with him.”

“Look. I don’t mean to be rude, but I fail to see what business any of this is of yours.”

“You have a bitchy side.” She laughed. “I can see why he has a thing for you.”

“I assure you that Jett doesn’t have any type of thing for me.” No shit. He’d basically kicked me out of his bed this morning. Not that I was going to volunteer that information.

“I’ve known Jett a long time, Heather,” she said, her tone serious. “He has an angle with everything he does.”

“I don’t doubt that.” And I didn’t.

“So you do know him, then.”

“That’s not what I said. But I know how celebrities are. I’ve been living here for five years.”

“I feel there’s something I need to tell you, woman to woman,” she said.

“What might that be?”

Before she could answer, the waiter appeared at our table. “Would you like something to drink, ma’am?” he asked me, and then nodded to Alicia’s nearly empty martini glass. “Can I get you another?”

Alicia drained what was left of her drink. “Yes, please.” She popped the remaining two olives into her mouth.

He turned back to me. “And for you?”

“Bring me what she’s having.” It was definitely going to be a martini kind of evening.

After he left, Alicia said, “Now, where were we?”

“There’s something you wanted to tell me. Woman to woman,” I couldn’t resist adding.

“Yes, of course. I’ve known Jett a long time. He and I are… How can I put this? More than friends.”

So the rock star was sleeping with the heiress. I couldn’t say I was surprised. Even though, my heart broke just a little bit. Okay, a lot. I had fallen in love with a womanizer. I strained my face to remain nonchalant, wishing I had my martini in front of me.

“Oh? He didn’t mention you.” That wasn’t even a lie. I didn’t doubt anything she was telling me, but I wanted to smack myself silly for letting on that I had spent more than just a passing moment with him.

“Jett is usually very discreet. And so am I.”

“You are? Then why are you telling me about your relationship?”

Her painted cheeks flushed a slightly darker crimson than the blush she’d apparently applied with a palette knife. Other than that giveaway, though, she maintained her composure.

“I can tell, just from the short time we’ve been talking, that you are also a very discreet person, Heather.”

“Really? From spending all of three minutes with me?”

She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “Come now. Let’s just have some girl talk. Get to know each other.”

I snatched my hand away. This was getting creepy. “Why? I don’t mean to be rude, but what possible interest could you have in me? I’m just a struggling screenwriter.”

“You don’t have to be struggling.”

I saw where this was going. “If you intend to offer to have some big producer read my work in exchange for staying away from Jett, you don’t need to bother. Jett and I mean nothing to each other. I won’t be seeing him again.”

“I can see you have the wrong idea about me. But I would advise you not to burn any bridges. You don’t want me as an enemy.”

“What bridge could I possibly burn? You don’t know anything about me, and there’s no need to try to get me to stay away from Jett. I’ll do that all on my own. Of course I don’t want you as an enemy. I don’t want anyone as an enemy. Why would that even be on the table? I’m just saying that…” What was I saying? I had really jumped the gun, and she was right about burning bridges. She knew everyone in LA, and she was probably a good person to have on my side. “I apologize, Alicia. I guess I’m just used to everyone in Hollywood wanting to make a deal, you know?”

She smiled and nodded, taking a sip of the new martini the waiter had placed in front of her. “I accept your apology, of course.” She flagged the waiter before he left. “Could you take a photo of us?” She turned back to me. “For my Instagram account. My followers love knowing my every move.”

“Uh…sure.” Showing up on Alicia Hopkins’s Instagram certainly couldn’t hurt a struggling screenwriter.

She leaned across the table and put her arm around me as if we were besties. I forced a smile.

The waiter handed Alicia her phone and then strode off.

The whole act felt really strange. Something was definitely up. I just had no idea what it could possibly be.

“So there is a reason why I asked you here,” she said.

“And that is?” I took a sip of my own drink, wincing at its strength. This was a real martini. Gin, not vodka. It burned my throat, but in a good way.

“Like I said, I’ve known Jett a long time, and I recognize his MO. What I’m about to tell you won’t make the news, but it’s the truth. The alleged bomb threat at the Emerald Phoenix concert was a hoax.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said.

“Of course not. But what may surprise you is who orchestrated it.”

“Oh? Do you know who did?”

“Yes. Jett did.” She fiddled with her phone.

I arched my eyebrows and my heart quickened. “Why would he stage a fake bomb threat at his own concert? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, it does, and it’s not the first time he’s done something like this. He did it because he wanted to fuck you, Heather.”