Chapter 44

By unspoken agreement, we spent the next couple of days pretending that nothing had happened. As usual, I accompanied him to all of his media interviews, where things went surprisingly okay – at least while the cameras were rolling.

On the rare occasions we were alone, he was even colder than usual, which was fine by me – or at least, that's what I kept telling myself, even as he haunted my thoughts like the nightmare he was.

By midnight on the second night, I was so distracted that I found myself heading toward the hotel bar, looking for a nightcap or, cripes, even a distraction – anything to push Zane Bennington out of my thoughts.

I never did get the nightcap, but I did find one heck of a distraction in the form of Tiffany and the senator, who were arguing near the bar's entrance.

I stopped several paces away and tried not to stare as Tiffany practically yelled, "Hey, it was your idea!"

The senator was red-faced and disheveled, with his tie askew and his bald head shining with perspiration. He said, "I wanted you to get close to him. Not hump him in the damn elevator!"

Woah.

Him? Meaning Zane?

That was my guess.

I only prayed I was wrong. My own conflicted feelings aside, I was tired of explaining away Zane's bad behavior. Just within the past two days, I'd received nearly a dozen inquiries from reporters wanting to know why Zane and Maven had gotten into a screaming match in the Skyroom restaurant.

My answer? "No comment."

Normally, I used that phrase when I knew the information, but for whatever reason, couldn't reveal it. This time, however, I truly didn't know.

Obviously, the so-called screaming match had occurred sometime after I'd stormed off, leaving the two of them to enjoy each other's dubious company.

Other than that, I knew nothing. Why? Because Zane wasn't talking, and I wasn't asking.

But I did know one thing. Zane wasn't the screaming type, which led me to believe that Maven had been the one who lost her temper.

Good.

If nothing else, it was heartening to know that I wasn't the only one who'd had a crappy time that night.

Yes, I was that petty.

In front of me, Tiffany and the senator were still arguing, even as a small crowd began to form around them. Tiffany thrust out her chest and said, "Hey, I can't help it if men find me attractive."

The senator was looking a little unsteady, even as he told her, "You were half-naked for Christ's stake."

"I was not," she insisted. "It was a wardrobe malfunction, just like I said."

Oh, brother. This again?

It was the same excuse she'd used at Zane's party, when they'd been caught in the alcove, doing who-knows-what.

The senator said, "Wardrobe malfunction, my ass."

In that particular moment, I felt a strange sense of kinship with the guy. The statement was, oddly enough, the exact same thing I always thought when hearing that ridiculous excuse.

Tiffany said, "Yeah? Well, your ass is covered in fur, so I'll thank you not to mention it."

The senator looked ready to pop. "What?"

"I'm just saying, it's hairy. You ever think of waxing it?"

As the senator sputtered out some incoherent reply, I glanced around. It was a weekday night, which meant that the place wasn't nearly as crowded as it could've been.

This was good for the lovebirds, but bad for me, because the longer I stood here, the more conspicuous I felt, even in my jeans and dark long-sleeved shirt.

I so didn't want to get involved. And yet, I did want that drink. I gazed past them toward the bar. Maybe if I snuck off to the side, they wouldn’t notice me?

No such luck.

I was just sidling past them when Tiffany said, "Jane knows. She'll tell you."

I froze in mid-step. Reluctantly, I turned to look. "Huh?"

Tiffany said, "A hairy ass. Hot or not?"

Oh, God. I looked toward the bar and wondered if they sold wine by the bottle, because I was pretty sure I'd be needing more than one glass.

Tiffany urged, "Go on. Tell him."

I looked to the senator and felt myself frown. The guy wasn't just unsteady. He looked almost ready to throw up. But why? Because he'd had too much to drink? Or because the topic of conversation was just that nauseating?

Tiffany gave me a look of impatience. "Well?"

I glanced around. "Uh, no comment?"

Tiffany beamed like I'd just given her the best participation trophy ever. She turned to the senator and said, "See! She totally agrees."

I made a sound of frustration. "That's not what I said."

But already, they'd moved on, yelling back and forth about her wardrobe allowance, even as the crowd around them grew.

Wanting no part of it, I hurried to the bar and ordered the first thing that came to mind. Surprisingly, it wasn't wine. It was a mimosa of all things.

A few paces away, the argument ended with Tiffany ripping off her engagement ring and hurling it onto the floor. I couldn't help but wince, even as she turned and flounced away, leaving the senator staring, unsteadily, after her.

I hadn't voted for the guy, but I still felt bad for him. While waiting for my drink, I watched as the crowd drifted away, leaving him standing alone, looking at the fallen ring.

He made no move to pick it up, and for some reason, that made the scene even more pathetic.

Unable to stop myself, I left the bar and returned to where he was standing. Silently, I picked up the ring and held it out in his direction.

But he didn't take it. Instead, he staggered forward, straight into my arms. He was a big guy – a pro football player back in the day, and I nearly fell backward under the weight of him.

He pulled back to mumble, "Sorry, guess I had one too many." He gave me a sad smile. "Walk me to the elevator?"

I glanced toward the bar, where my mimosa was now waiting on the counter. And then, I glanced toward the nearest bank of elevators.

Selfishly, I wanted to say no. But he looked so darned pathetic that I didn't have the heart. So I gave him a nod, and let him take my arm as we moved awkwardly in that direction.

As we walked, he muttered, "Fucking Zane Bennington."

My steps faltered, and I gave him a sideways glance. I wasn't even sure what he meant. Was it a description of what he thought Tiffany had done? Or was it merely a general observation on Zane himself? If that one was the case, I could definitely relate.

The senator slurred, "He's the reason we're here, you know."

This wasn't a surprise. And yet, part of me wanted to ask for details.

But I didn't. Gossiping aside, I hadn't sunk so low that I'd take advantage of a drunk guy.

Turns out, I was way too scrupulous, because less than ten minutes later, it was him, trying to take advantage of me.