Other than his family, Hayden Keys and Ana Garner seem to be the only real friends he has here. We went out to lunch with them on Sunday. Ana is his co-star from Blind Shot and Hayden from Defcon One. But I guess they know each other because they travel in the same circles. Hayden brought Noreen Watkins, who played Chad’s sister in his latest movie. She and Hayden are dating now.
Ana is having a party on Friday, but Chad wanted me to meet them beforehand. We hit it off. Ana is a relative newcomer to show business. Maybe that’s why she seems like just a regular girl. She’s someone I could see Mel and me hanging out with. I even had a thought that Julian might like her. Chad was all over that idea, even going so far as to show Ana a picture of Julian. All in all, it felt like a normal lunch with the exception of the fifteen paparazzi camped outside the restaurant. It’s no surprise how the lunch spurred rumors of Chad dating either or both Ana and me, jilting Courtney once again.
My phone rings and I smile when I see it’s Chad’s mother. “Hi, Jackie,” I answer, still a little uncomfortable using her first name. But she insisted on it when we were there for dinner Monday night.
“Hello, dear. Chad told me the other day how bad he felt knowing you’d be alone most of the day today.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I took a swim. He won’t be gone that long,” I tell her.
“Well, as luck would have it, my afternoon surgery got canceled. I thought I’d swing by and take you shopping. Maybe buy you a dress for Ana’s party on Friday?”
It would be nice to have a new dress. After all, I’ll be mingling with movie stars. “That would be wonderful,” I say. “But you’re not buying my dress, Jackie.”
“I’m already on my way,” she says, ignoring my statement. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
An hour later, I find myself in another world, being catered to by not one, but two sales ladies as we drink champagne while they present me with dress options. I gulp down a swallow. I shudder to even look at the prices. Actually, I don’t think the dresses even have price tags. Maybe they charge based on what they think you can afford. I wonder if it would be in poor taste to mention I’m just a school teacher.
Jackie really wants me to pick a dark green dress to match my eyes. They show me several and I end up trying on a skin-tight, cleavage-enhancing one and a flowy just-above-the-knee, conservative-yet-alluring one. I model both for Jackie as the sales ladies fawn over me. I break out into a sweat wondering if one of these dresses will breach the limit on my Visa card.
“You look stunning in both of them, Mallory,” Jackie says when I come out wearing the conservative one. “Chad will simply drop dead when he sees you.”
I smile, looking in the mirror thinking about his reaction. I have to admit; I look and feel great wearing it. I twirl around, watching the skirt show off a little more leg.
One of the ladies brings me a pair of black heels with matching green bows on the back that look amazing with the dress. Oh, screw it, I may have to work summer school to pay this off, but it will be worth it. I smile at Jackie. “This is the one,” I say.
She sighs with relief. “Oh, thank God,” she says, leaning back into the leather dressing room sofa. “I know you young girls like those tight dresses, but I still think you should leave something to the imagination.”
I laugh. “I thought you liked the other one.”
“I thought you liked the other one.” She giggles.
“Oh, no. I only tried it on because your eyes lit up when you saw it,” I tell her.
“Wishful thinking, dear. If only I could still fit into something like that. Actually, I’m not sure I ever could.”
“You are gorgeous, Jackie. And you have a lovely figure,” I say. “Chad’s father is very lucky.”
She pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you, dear. I think I’ll keep you.” Then she whispers in my ear so the ladies can’t hear her. “Courtney Benson has nothing on you.”
“You know her?” I ask, a little disappointed that he’s brought other girls to their home for dinner.
“Oh, no. Not really,” she says. “We met one time at his L.A. premiere. That dress you tried on? Hers was barely half of the material.” She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Not to mention she spreads false rumors about my son. She better pray she doesn’t use any of my friends for a nose job—which she needs, by the way—because I might just make sure they don’t have steady hands during her procedure.” She snorts at her own joke. “And just so you know, my son has never brought another woman home to meet us. You’re the one and only.”
I sigh with relief and then I smile. “He’s my one and only, Jackie. I think he always has been.”
“It’s as it should be, Mallory. My son loves you very much. I can tell by the way he talks about you. By the way he looks at you across the room. You are the real thing for him, you know. Trust in that. And don’t let all the hoopla distract you from it.” She holds my arms out by my sides and looks at the dress again. “I hope you know CPR, dear, because his heart will stop for sure. Now go get changed so I can get you home before he even knows you were gone.”
When I’m changing back into my clothes, Chad texts me, telling me he’s going to be about a half hour late but that he’ll make it up to me later, followed by a winky face. I smile as I exit the dressing room. One of the sales ladies puts the dress in a garment bag. The shoes go in their own bag that hangs along the side. “Let me give you my card,” I say.
She waves me off. “It’s been paid for, young lady. Have a good day.”
I shoot a glance to Jackie, who’s waiting for me by the front door with a big Cheshire cat smile. She shrugs. “Get used to it, dear. We Stones take care of our own.”
“Jackie, it’s too much.”
“Hush now,” she says. “You are worth every bit, Mallory Schaffer.”
I smile at her, biting back tears. “I never really got to go shopping with my mom,” I say. “I was always too busy to be bothered with it. But I imagine it would have been a lot like this. Minus the champagne.”
She puts her arm around me. “You were the apple of that woman’s eye, dear. She knew you loved her. You were a teenager. You were supposed to be out gallivanting with your friends. She would have been so proud of the woman you’ve become. Trust me.”
“Thank you,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “And thank you for this.” I hold the bag up. “So, so much.”
“You’re very welcome. Come, let’s get you home.”
~ ~ ~
I stuff the garment bag in the back of his closet, hoping Chad won’t notice it before Friday. Then I realize I still have an hour to kill before he gets home. I pick up my phone and check social media. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to do that. I’m bombarded by tons of messages, posts, and tweets—by my supposed friends; the same ones who have recently come out of the woodwork—showing me pictures of Chad and Courtney together. They follow the pictures with sad faces and notes of condolences. I proceed to clean house, blocking, unfriending and unfollowing anyone who chooses to participate in the tabloid heyday. Part of me wants to post the picture I took of us cuddling on the couch yesterday. I want to scream at these people and tell them to mind their own business and quit assuming things are real just because they see a stupid picture.
But I realize I’m probably just taking my frustration out on them. Maybe if I weren’t on the inside, I would believe everything I read, too. I mean, didn’t I for all those years Chad was gone? Granted, he did do a lot of what was printed, but it was made to seem so much worse.
The upsetting thing is that the pictures they’re posting were taken today. I know because Chad is wearing the same light-blue shirt he put on this morning. The pictures show two ‘love birds’ eating lunch together. It’s clear to me they aren’t alone, the table is too big for that, but the picture is cropped to make it look like they are sharing an intimate lunch for two.
He’s working, I know that. But deep down, I can’t help but feel
like I’m the dirty little secret hidden away in his house while he’s out living his real life.
I can’t help myself. I do a search of Thad Stone pictures.
Also a monumentally bad idea.
There are hundreds of them. Thousands maybe. Most of them pair him with Courtney or Heather. Although he looks quite a bit younger in the ones with Heather. Wow—Kyle was right, she really does look like me; I never saw that until just now. Chad also is clearly thinner and spaced out in those photos. I’m glad we weren’t close then. It would have broken my heart to see him that way. There are some pictures with a girl named Nikki. My jealously radar peaks at full tilt. Nikki is the last girl he slept with before me. And she lives in New York City. She’s gorgeous. Splendid.
There’s another girl who shows up in several pictures, but there isn’t a name. She’s not insanely thin and beautiful like the others. She cute, with a long blonde ponytail in most of the photos, and I’d say quite a bit younger than he is. She doesn’t even look to be out of her teens. The pictures with her are different than the others. They aren’t so posed. They are more like the pictures I have of me and Chad. Fun. Spontaneous. Casual.
And that’s what scares the hell out of me. That and the fact that it looks like she’s been in his life for a while, at least a few years based on the ages Chad looks in them.
I throw my phone down on the couch. This is not helping. I go to the bedroom and pull a book out of my suitcase and lay down on Chad’s bed to start reading.
The next thing I know, I’m being kissed awake by the man who I was just dreaming about. I smile before I even open my eyes. I could get used to this—him coming home to me.
“God, I missed you today,” he says. “Do you know how hard it was to sit in meetings all day knowing you were back here? In my pool. On my bed.” He kisses me again, hovering over me, but not leaning down to put any weight on me. “I’m going to make good on that promise to join you in the pool. I just want to take a quick shower first.”
I draw my brows at him. “You need to shower before going in the pool?”
“Yeah. I was in conference rooms all day. I probably smell like Courtney’s hideous perfume. And some of the producers were smoking.” He kisses my nose and then empties his pockets onto the nightstand. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Why don’t you put on that green bikini of yours? Or better yet—just strip naked and save me the trouble of taking it off you.” He winks on his way to the bathroom.
My body is humming knowing what he has in store for me. How did I ever get so lucky?
I’m trying to decide between nakedness or bikini when Chad’s phone pings with a text. Then it pings again right after. I grab his phone and follow him. “Chad, your phone—” But the toilet flushes followed by the shower turning on. It’ll have to wait.
I go to put his phone down on the nightstand but catch a glimpse of the text. And then my stomach becomes lodged in the vicinity of my throat. The picture of the person who sent the text is the same young blonde ponytail girl from the internet pictures. And her name is Megan. The Megan from his favorites list. The one he said he hadn’t cleared out yet. I know it’s horribly wrong and an invasion of his privacy, however, I can’t help but tap on it and read the conversation as far back as it shows up on the screen.
Megan: I need you, Chad. Please?
Chad: Sweetie, I wish I could, but I’m in meetings all day.
Megan: Please? You said you would come whenever I need you. Well, I need you.
Chad: I did say that, didn’t I? Okay. I may be able to stop by around 4, but I’ll have to make it quick.
Megan: You’re the best. I love you, you know that, right?
Chad: Love you, too. See you then.
Megan: Thank you for coming over, even though it was just a quickie. I feel so much better now.
Megan: See you Sunday night.
I don’t bother reading back any further. I’ve read enough. With tear-blurred vision, I stare at her picture a moment longer and then I drop the phone onto the floor. I’m pretty sure I hear it crack but I’m too upset to care. My stomach turns and I have to concentrate to hold back the vomit. I don’t even bother with my suitcase. I grab my purse and my phone and head out the front door. I summon an Uber on my walk to the front gate of the neighborhood and by the time I reach it, a car is waiting.
“LAX p-please,” I tell him, trying to keep it together.
The whole way there, I wonder how I could have been so stupidly blind. He’s not changed his ways at all. How could he even sit there and claim to love me when he is clearly in love with Megan? He stopped at her house for a quickie and then came home to me? What kind of man does that? A self-serving asshole, that’s who.
I rip open the door before the car is even at a full stop. I start to run into the airport when I hear the screeching of tires behind me. I spin around to see what’s what and see Chad’s car. I quickly make a visual sweep but don’t see Cole. He’s here alone. He leaves his door open, running around the car in a t-shirt and board shorts as if he put on the first thing he found on his floor. “Mallory!” he yells.
He’s twenty feet from me and that’s close enough. I hold up my hand. “No,” I say. “Stay back.”
He pulls his shattered phone out of his shorts, holding it up for me to see. “It’s not what you think. I swear.”
I hear a crowd gathering, but don’t have the energy to care. All my energy was spent on heartbreak in the cab ride over. “What I think is that you’ve been fucking someone else!” I shout. “It’s pretty damn clear.”
Chad looks around and I follow the direction of his eyes. Paparazzi are running towards us. They always camp out at the airport in hopes of finding celebrity photo ops. My heart fractures even further. We are about to break up in the most public of ways and it’s going to make people salivate.
Chad takes a few steps forward, motioning to the gathering crowd. “Do you really want to do this right here, Mal?”
More tires screech behind us. I look over and see Cole running from his car.
“Get me a secure fucking room,” Chad says to him through his gritted teeth.
I watch Cole run over and talk to a guy with a badge and not ten seconds later, they both come over to Chad. “Mr. Stone, right this way.” The guy with the badge then turns to me. “Miss? Follow me, please.”
My instinct is to keep walking into the airport. But I can see in Chad’s eyes that he’s not going to let this go so easily. He wants to win. Have his cake and eat it too. Part of me wants to let the whole bloody scene play out in front of the paparazzi. Let the carnage fall where it may. But then for just one second, I think of my job. My students. What kind of example would I be setting if I aired my dirty laundry for all to see?
I nod at the guy with the badge and let him escort me into a private, unmarked entrance. We walk down a hallway and into a small reception area. It looks like a ticket counter, but there is only one. I guess this is where the VIPs get to check in. We’re escorted into a small room next to the counter. It has a couch and three chairs and I wonder what it’s used for if not exclusively for asshole celebrities and their soon-to-be ex-girlfriends to fight in.
Chad whispers something to Cole and then Cole closes the door, leaving Chad and me alone in the room.
“I can explain,” he says, sitting down and putting his elbows on his knees, fingering the broken screen of his phone.
“If you can explain that away, you’ll earn a goddamn Oscar,” I tell him, pacing the room.
“I’m not cheating on you, Mallory. I love you. I don’t love anyone else—not in that way. I know what you read looks really bad, but I swear you’ll understand once I explain it to you.” He closes his eyes briefly and then focuses on the floor. “You’ll understand, but you may still hate me.”
I’m not sure there is anything else he could have said to grab my attention more. How could I hate him any more than if he were cheating on me? I take a seat in the chair farthest from him, wiping a
nother tear off my sodden face. “I’m listening,” I say. “Talk.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Chad
I hope Cole is quick about the errand I sent him on. Thank goodness he doesn’t have to go far. I need all the help I can get on this one. When I found my shattered phone on the floor and read the texts on the screen, there was no doubt in my mind that Mallory had run. I would have run myself—after I hunted down and kicked some dude’s ass, that is.
I don’t think I’ve ever driven so fast in my life. It was a miracle I didn’t get pulled over. But I had to get to Mallory. I don’t even want to imagine what it would’ve been like for her if she’d gotten on that plane thinking I’d cheated on her.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask her, stalling.
“Don’t beat around the bush so you have time to think up excuses, Thad. Just get to it; I have a plane to catch.”
There was a time when I loved it when she called me Thad. Now it’s just a reference to the asshole I once was and that she thinks I still am. And I hate that she had to spend her own money on airfare. “You already booked a ticket?”
“No. But I will as soon as we’re done here.”
“I hope that’s not true, Mal. But if you still want to leave after what I tell you, I’ll change your return ticket for you. You shouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“That’s right, I forgot. You Stones are always buying stuff for people. How generous of you,” she says sarcastically.
“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘we Stones’?”
“Sorry,” she says, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean to put your mother in the same narcissistic group you belong to. She took me shopping today and bought an outrageously expensive dress for me to wear Friday night. It’s in the back of your closet, by the way. Please have her return it for a refund.”
Stone Promises (A Stone Brothers Novel) Page 20
