“Well that clarifies things. Thanks, Rose.”
She slaps my knee. “No problem.”
Chapter 9
“Um. Des?” This is Ruthie, speaking from her spot curled up in the corner of the couch in our Detroit apartment. We just got back to Detroit last night and I never thought I would say this, but I’m glad to be here. I had one more week on Mackinac Island after Adam left— and it was one of the longest weeks ever.
I don’t look up from my book. “What?”
“You need to see this.” When I don’t answer, she gets up and slams her three-year-old ASUS down onto my lap. “Des. You need to see this, right now.”
It takes a moment to register what I’m seeing. It’s an article in some celebrity gossip magazine.
There are photographs…
Of me.
With Adam.
I look hot.
Adam’s hot new flame? the headline reads. And by headline, I mean huge, bold letters across the top of the website, like size one hundred font. Accompanied by photograph after photograph. A close-up of Adam and me holding hands. His lips at my ear, whispering something to me. His arm around my waist. Us slow dancing…me with a look of utter rapture on my face.
“You’re in Entertainment Now, Des.” She’s stepping into flip-flops and snagging her purse off the counter. “I gotta go and get a hard copy of this.”
I sit in shock as she vanishes out the door. I skim the text, but it’s the usual conjecture:
Action movie heartthrob Adam Trenton was recently photographed at a charity dinner with a mysterious new love interest. The pair refused to comment to our on-scene reporters, but sources say they were spotted together more than once over the weekend. Adam, who rumors say is filming a sequel to last-year’s box-office smash Fulcrum, hasn’t been spotted with anyone since he and Garden of Evil star Emma Hayes split early this year amid a swirl of volatile rumors. His new love interest isn’t anyone we recognize, but if these photographs do her any justice, something tells us we’ll be seeing more of her—and soon.
And, at the bottom of the article, a long-distance photograph of me climbing into the carriage outside the Grand Hotel. Wearing what are clearly Adam’s clothes.
Shit. Shit.
Shit.
Ruthie sweeps back into the apartment, a glossy magazine in her hand. She’s staring at the article even as she sits down on the couch beside me. “Holy shit, Des!” She shoves the magazine into my hands. “This is incredible! Perez Hilton is blogging about you, girl! This is huge. HUGE.”
“Hugely bad, Ruthie.”
She stares at me in bafflement. “Des. You spent the weekend with one of the most eligible and sought-after bachelors ever. When he and Emma were official, the female population of the world went nuts. And when he and Emma broke up, they went even crazier. And now that he’s been seen with a new girl, things are going to go even crazier yet, especially since you’re a mystery to everyone. No one knows who you are or where you came from, and believe me, sweetie, they’re gonna find out.”
She grabs my hands in both of hers and squeezes hard. “What the fuck were you thinking? You are seriously the world’s most private individual, and you let yourself get photographed at an über-exclusive A-list charity dinner? And this?” She taps the final image of me in Adam’s clothes. “That’s like, obviously a morning-after shot. You look sexy and gorgeous, in an I-just-spent-the-night-fucking sort of way.”
I bury my face in my hands. “What am I going to do?”
She shrugs. “Baby doll, I don’t even know.”
“I didn’t know any of this would happen. I—god, I didn’t know.”
Ruth is in the kitchen mixing a pitcher of margaritas, which she is spectacularly amazing at making. “Good thing is, you don’t have a phone number and you’re not on the lease for the apartment. So finding you is going to be pretty damn near impossible. I think. I mean, for one thing, you look nothing like your normal self in those photographs. Not that you’re not beautiful normally, but Des, hon, you’ve been holding out on me. I had no idea you could clean up that good!”
I accept a margarita in a juice glass, since we don’t have actual margarita glasses. “I didn’t know either. I mean, I didn’t do anything special. I barely put any makeup on! God. If I’d known what he was taking me to, I wouldn’t have gone. I mean, it wasn’t just Adam and Dylan there. I met Gareth Thomas, Rose Garret, Lawrence Bradford, Amy Jones…I mean, there were some insanely famous people there…and me.” I let out a shaky breath. “Rose cornered me in the bathroom at the dinner and she warned me this would happen.”
Ruth gives me a sour expression. “Listen to yourself. Talking about Rose like she’s your buddy. This is Rose fucking Garret, Des. God.”
I down the margarita, which is strong. “You think I don’t realize how surreal all this is? It all feels like a dream. I don’t know what else to say, Ruth.”
She refills my glass and sits beside me again. “You miss him, don’t you?”
“I barely know him. I spent all of…not even two full days with him.”
“But…” she pauses to sip and swallow, “you still miss him.”
I rest the glass against my forehead. “Yeah. I try not to. Try not to think about him. About that night. But it’s impossible not to.” I twist my head to meet Ruthie’s eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that night.”
“How could you? That was like…a once in a lifetime thing.”
I can’t help wishing it was a lifetime thing, and not once in a lifetime.
* * *
The next day I’m leaving my last class of the day at Wayne State, waiting for the bus that will take me to U of D for my janitor shift. I’ve got ear buds in and I’m spaced out, tired, not wanting to go to work. I feel a tap on my shoulder, pull out an ear bud and turn to face the person who tapped me. He’s a few years older than me, attired in a pair of tight dark blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up to his ankles above a pair of shiny, calf-high, unlaced combat boots. He’s wearing a white button-down with a bright purple scarf tied around his neck like a cravat, and a black coat that reminds me of something a Civil War officer might wear, brass buttons and a flaring hem. His hair is blond and slicked to one side, and he’s got mascaraed eyelashes, blushed cheekbones, and nails painted the same color as his scarf.