“What’s fair is fair.” He was seething.

“Fine.” She slammed the paper onto the counter. “Yes, it sucked when I got pregnant at sixteen! Yes, it almost ruined my film career, and that’s a hell, yes, I went to rehab to deal with the abortion!” She stormed out of the room. The sound of her heels clicking against the tile floor may as well have been my conscience making me feel like a genuine jackass. How did I not know any of that? To be fair, I didn’t really pay attention to gossip. Mainly because I wasn’t interested in who I was “sleeping with” or what starlet I just “abandoned.”

“Holy shit.” Jaymeson looked down at his hands. “Holy freaking shit.”

“You’ve said that.” I tried to laugh, but it fell on deaf ears. He turned to me and scowled. “Last night I…” He swallowed. “I may have told her something like she should just go kill herself since nobody liked her.”

“A bit harsh, Jaymeson.” Alyssa snapped.

Jaymeson pushed away from the table and ran after Angelica, leaving Alyssa and me in the kitchen with the production crew and Ruben. “Happy now?” I asked. “Tell me, is it your goal to ruin everyone’s lives?”

Ruben sneered. “Maybe you should be asking your brother that question.”

He grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and began talking about edits to the production crew.

My stomach filled with dread. I quickly dialed Alec’s number to fill him in on what was going on, but his phone was off. Either that or dead. He needed to know what kind of hellstorm he was coming back into. We were officially a few questions away from the point of no return. Nobody knew Alec and my original reasons for being in Seaside in the first place, except a select group who’d take it to their graves. If they kept asking questions, I didn’t even want to think about the ramifications. Forget the shit Alec was going through. We had much bigger problems. Like how we were going to keep our past hidden when Ruben was stopping at nothing to make it public?

Chapter Twenty-three

Alec

“Look, a whale!” I pointed at the stuffed animal in the airport and nudged Nat.

She glared.

For living on the coast, she really didn’t have her sea legs. She threw up the entire boat ride. I was finally able to convince her that we should go back to the hotel until she felt better.

Once she had some food in her stomach she was fine. Though still pissed she hadn’t seen any whales. Thus the stuffed animal.

“You suck.” Her punch was weak. I laughed and grabbed her overnight bag from her. In the distance a few people had their phones trained on us, most likely taking pics or Tweeting about our little “fight” in the airport.

“Ugh, I swear it still feels like I’m still on that damn boat,” Nat muttered into my chest. “Crackers?”

I reached into her bag and pulled out some crackers for her and a bottled water. “Better?”

She ate the cracker and nodded. “Damn whale.” She pointed at the offending stuffed animal.

“Admit it.” I took the crackers and bottled water from her and put them back in her bag. “You kind of want one.”

“A whale?”

“A stuffed animal. To remember the weekend by?”

“Alec, I don’t really want to remember the throwing up.”

I smirked. “That’s not all we did.”

“Right, and I’m sure all of that…” She turned red. “Didn’t help!”

“Liar.” I kissed her cheek. “That always helps.”

“Fine, buy me the damn whale and let’s get on our plane.”

Chuckling, I walked into the store with the whale and pulled out my credit card. My body froze when my eyes fell onto the gossip magazines in front of me. There was a picture of me and April hugging. How the hell did they get that? The headline read. “AD2 golden boy cheating on his girlfriend with an older woman?”

I turned the magazine around, and then my eyes fell on the next one.

“Shit.” I put the whale on the counter and turned around, blocking Nat’s view of the magazines. “Babe, will you do me a favor and call Demetri? My phone’s been off, and I want him picking us up at the airport. That okay?”

“Sure.” She pulled the phone from her purse and walked out of the store.

I quickly flipped the rest of the magazines, much to the amusement of the checker who was eyeing me like I was high on something.

The last magazine had a picture that made me want to vomit. I had no idea how they had that picture. No freaking idea. April was lying in her hotel room sleeping, pill bottles scattered around the table next to her.

Producers Wife Tries to Commit Suicide.

“I hate the media.” I cursed and swiped my credit card through the machine.

The clerk snorted. “Says the rich celebrity.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“You heard me.” He pointed down to the magazines. “You knew what you were getting into the minute you signed up for that craziness. I don’t get why celebrities complain so much. Press enter on the screen please.”

I wanted to press my fist into his face, but instead, barely controlling my anger, I pressed the button and gripped the countertop.

“Have a nice day,” the man said, handing me the bag.

I held his gaze for a bit before nodding once and then saying in low tones. “I don’t care what anyone says. No celebrity, no one, asks for this shit to be made public.” I threw two of the magazines onto the counter and stomped off.