Seeing Stars

by J. Sterling

  I typed out a text message to Keri as I walked toward my building’s entrance.

  GOT BLACKMAILED INTO GOING OUT WITH WALKER TONIGHT. JAYSON SAID IF I DIDN’T GO OUT WITH HIM HE’D FIRE ME. GOING TO VINE’S TONIGHT AT 8. KILL ME NOW.

  My phone beeped with a text response as I entered the elevator and pressed the button for the eighth floor.

  KILL YOU? I’LL KILL JAYSON. YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT LEGAL. IF HE FIRES YOU, I’LL HELP YOU SUE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HIM AND THEN YOU CAN RUN THAT COMPANY.

  A quiet giggle escaped as I read her words and I knew she was right. What Jayson was doing wasn’t legal. But I felt trapped, and I knew how things in this industry worked. Shit like this happened all the time, and if you filed a lawsuit, the whole town would know about it and you’d be blacklisted before you updated your résumé. This was a who-you-know industry in a big who-you-know town. I planned to keep my mouth shut and do what I was told, no matter how much I hated it.

  I popped my head around Jayson’s door and knocked quietly before announcing, “I have dinner with Walker tonight. Just thought you’d want to know.”

  A sinister smile spread across his face, a face I could no longer look at without wanting to beat into a pulp. “Great. Where are you going and when? Make sure you talk business.”

  I sighed. “Vine’s at eight. I can’t promise that he’ll sign with us. I have no control over what this guy does with his life. But I’ll try, okay? That’s the best I can do.”

  Jayson gave me a smarmy smirk and said, “I’m sure you can do better than that,” before turning back to his work.

  I handed the valet the keys to my Jetta and silently hoped that Walker would already be waiting inside. The last thing I wanted was to be here before him, which was why I’d purposely arrived fifteen minutes late. If the swarm of paparazzi outside the brick building were any indication, Walker was already here.

  One of the guys lugging a camera leaped toward me as I adjusted my skirt and blouse, but another camera-wielding life-ruiner touched his shoulder and said, “She’s no one,” as I moved to enter the restaurant. Nothing made you feel better than hearing a low-life paparazzi jerk-off call you a “no one.”

  After weaving through the maze of outdoor seating, I followed the short pathway to the front doors. As I stepped inside, the hostess looked up from her podium with a fake, tight-lipped smile.

  “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” Written all over her Botox-injected face was the fact that she hoped I didn’t.

  “I’m meeting Walker Rhodes for dinner. Do you know if he’s here already?”

  Her expression soured as she took me in from head to toe before announcing, “Ah, yes, he is. You’re late. Right this way.”

  I followed behind her perfectly sculpted ass and fought the urge to trip her just so I could watch her fall. All this hostility toward me lately was making me violent. I needed a drink. Heads turned and eyes watched me, tracing my path, obviously curious if I was the one meeting Walker in the back. He might have been in a more secluded section of the restaurant, but everyone still knew he was here. I suddenly wished I was better at faking it.

  When the hostess waved her hand toward the booth where Walker was waiting, I flashed a closed-mouth smile and muttered thanks in my snarkiest voice.

  “Problem already?” Walker joked and I noticed how relaxed he looked, leaning casually into the back of the booth with a beer in hand. The long sleeves of his unbuttoned flannel shirt covered up his tattoos and his well-sculpted arms.

  Pity.

  “She’s sort of a bitch. Sorry I’m late. Traffic,” I lied.

  “No problem, I planned on waiting all night if I had to.” His hazel eyes met mine and I gave him a quick grin as I felt myself blush at his words.

  “Come, sit.” He patted the seat cushion next to him in the semicircular booth and I scooted into it, leaving enough space for a person or two to fit between us. The configuration was awkward, and I wished we were sitting across from each other like normal people.

  He leaned over and gave me a lopsided grin that made my heart flutter. “You can move closer. I don’t bite.”

  I closed my eyes a second to keep from rolling them, then said, “I’m good. Plus, I don’t even know you. You might bite.”

  Okay, I might have flirted back. I wanted to hate him or be annoyed by him, but it was really hard when he was this close. His stupid good looks disarmed me, even though I wasn’t normally the type to fall at a celebrity’s feet. I couldn’t in my line of work. But Walker was nothing if not charming, without even trying. It seemed like he was simply made that way. If you took one smidgeon of allure, mixed it with two dashes of handsome, tossed in a devilish grin and eyes that could stop world wars, you’d have Walker Rhodes. And that irritated me, which in turn reminded me that I was here against my will.

  Thankful for the prompt service from our waitress, I turned my attention in her direction and away from Walker’s innate animal magnetism.

  Rahr.

  “Good evening, my name’s Rachel. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

  “Yes!” I responded a little too enthusiastically and Walker chuckled into his fist. I shot him a glare before asking, “May I please get a whiskey sour?”

  “Absolutely,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  Rachel was a petite brunette with a flawless complexion and stunning makeup skills. She definitely fit the bill of the stereotypical stunning actress/waitress, if that was indeed what she was. She was also clearly used to waiting on celebrities, but even I could tell that Walker’s presence had her rattled. I had to commend her on her ability to remain professional, when I would bet a hundred bucks she’d be willing to service him under the table as well as over it. For a second I almost wished she would. At least that way I could end this charade.

  “Whiskey, huh? Didn’t take you for a whiskey girl, Madison. Rough day?” His finger idly followed along the rim of his beer glass in a circular motion.

  “You could say that.” I really hadn’t intended to be so cold, but I didn’t understand what he wanted with me in the first place. Sure, we shared a moment onstage, but big deal. Walker shared that kind of moment with a different girl every night. And honestly, this all felt like a colossal waste of my time.

  “Are you irritated with me? Did I do something wrong? I mean, how is it possible I’ve screwed this date up already?” His head tilted and a smirk appeared.

  Squeezing my eyes shut for a second, I sucked in a quick breath and decided to be brutally honest with him. “I’m sorry. I guess I just don’t understand what we’re doing here.”

  Walker lifted his arm in a sweep to indicate the room. “I thought we were having dinner.”

  I narrowed my gaze at him. “I know that. But why? What did I possibly do to intrigue you this much?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.” He licked his lips before taking a sip of his beer. After placing it back on the table he leaned toward me, his eyes locked onto mine. “Why don’t you just try to enjoy yourself instead of trying to figure me out?”

  A ragged heartbeat or two crept by before I shrugged my shoulders, clearly admitting defeat. He wasn’t going to let me out of this easily. “Fine.” My tone came out sounding bored and uninterested.

  “Fine,” he mimicked with a good-natured grin as the waitress placed my drink in front of me and I hastily reached for it.

  Taking a sip, I closed my eyes briefly as the liquid coated my insides in warmth. “Mmm. I needed that.”

  Glancing over at Walker’s ridiculously handsome face, I placed the glass against my lips and tilted my head all the way back, draining the contents as the ice in the glass splashed against my upper lip. Grabbing the cloth napkin in my lap, I dabbed it against the wet parts of my face.

  “Whoa. Slow down, Sparkles.”

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I shot him a look of irritation and he laughed.

  “What? The nickname? I like
it. Plus it’s a hell of a lot funnier when you look like molten lava could shoot from your ears at any moment. Definitely no sparkle there.”

  A million comebacks fired into my brain at once, but I chose not to engage the beast and instead lifted my empty glass meaningfully toward the oncoming waitress. She nodded before turning around to return to the bar.

  Not a fan of drunk driving, I immediately started second-guessing my additional drink request. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I bit down nervously as I weighed my options in my head. I could always take a cab home if I needed to. It would be a colossal pain in the ass, especially since most places didn’t allow you to leave your car parked in their lot overnight, but it was a much safer option than the alternative. I’d also bet that Walker would be all too willing to give me a ride home. Biting down a bit too hard at that thought, I gasped before releasing my lip and noticed that his eyes were trained directly on my mouth.

  Our waitress appeared again, breaking his laser-beam focus, and I smiled before stirring the amber-colored liquid instead of drinking it. My head already felt heavy and the last thing I needed was to start seeing two Walkers instead of one. One was already more than I could handle.

  “Do you two know what you’d like to order, or do you still need a few minutes?”

  I remained silent, refusing to admit that I’d studied the menu before I came, and waited for Walker to answer first.

  He shook his head. “I still need a couple minutes.”

  “No problem,” she said with a kind smile before heading away with an extra swish in her backside.

  “Do you know what you’re getting?” he asked.

  I reached for my menu, which had remained unopened since I arrived. “Uh, nope. I’d better figure it out.”

  “Pretty much everything they serve here is amazing, so you can’t go wrong with whatever you order.”

  “Good to know.” I pretended to study the menu, taking my time reading each item slowly in order to avoid Walker’s mesmerizing eyes. I berated myself for acting like an idiot, making this situation far more complicated than it needed to be. Slamming my menu shut, I leaned back into the booth and looked right through him. Or at least I attempted to.

  “You know what you’re getting?”

  “Yep,” I answered confidently. “You?”

  “I always get the same thing,” he confessed with a slight shrug.

  “Shut up! You do not. Then how do you know if everything’s good or not?” I teased, my head swimming from a toxic mixture of alcohol and charm.

  “Everything here is good. Trust me.”

  “Trust you? Not a chance.” I gaped, shocked that I’d actually voiced those thoughts out loud, and slapped a hand across my mouth after the words escaped.

  Walker didn’t even flinch. Instead, he raised his eyebrows and asked sarcastically, “Let me guess? You believe everything you read in the tabloids?”

  Embarrassed, I glanced around the room, determined to look everywhere except his eyes. “Do I look like someone who believes everything she reads in the tabloids?”

  “Five minutes ago I wouldn’t have thought so. But now, I’m not so sure.” He took a swig of his beer and swallowed deeply.

  That was a definite insult.

  He just insulted me.

  Jerk.

  I reached for my drink, but decided not to even go there until I had some food in my stomach, and grabbed my untouched water instead. After drinking half the glass, I countered, “Well, just for the record and not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not the kind of girl who believes everything she reads. But I do tend to believe the things I see. Over and over”—I paused for effect—“and over and over and over again.” I smirked.

  He leaned in so close, I could smell him. His personal scent mixed with the beer he’d been drinking, and it swirled together in a blissful union before traveling up my senses and imprinting itself on me. “You shouldn’t believe everything you see either.”

  I guffawed. “Typical!”

  He leaned back, his expression incredulous. “What?”

  “That’s just such a typical response. God, you’re such a guy.”

  His eyes twinkled as he tipped up his lips into a smirk. “Glad you noticed.”

  And there was the cockiness I’d heard so much about. I’d be damned if it wasn’t a complete and utter turn-on.

  Our waitress returned, our conversation pausing as she took our order. I asked for a basket of their signature homemade bread while we waited for our main course, certain I’d be more than tipsy soon if I didn’t eat something.

  Tipsy led to bad choices.

  Bad choices led to Walker Rhodes.

  I needed bread. Stat.

  Still nursing the same beer he’d had since I arrived, Walker took another small sip before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. His flannel sleeve slid up a bit with the movement and I caught a glimpse of one of his tattoos. I wasn’t normally a big fan of tattoos, but had to admit that they suited him.

  A basket of warm bread appeared in front of me and I dug into it like a starving animal, grabbing a huge chunk from the partially sliced loaf. When I looked up at Walker, he was laughing.

  “Oh my gosh,” I said through a mouthful of bread. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m starving.”

  “I’m not laughing at you. You’re fucking adorable,” he said so nonchalantly that I almost choked. “And you eat carbs. It’s refreshing.”

  “Your charms won’t work on me, so just save your breath,” I warned as I tried to convince myself those lies were true.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, my mouth filled with warm, carby goodness. It was so damned tasty I was tempted to stand up in the middle of the restaurant and remind all the female patrons what they were missing. “Eat the bread! It’s delicious! Screw your diet!” I wanted to scream. What had happened to our generation anyway? Denying ourselves good food was just plain senseless. Oh well, I thought, more for me. And my ass.

  “You keep making faces like that and I might have my way with you right here in this booth,” Walker whispered, his breath warm in my ear.

  When had he moved that close?

  I snorted. “In your dreams, pretty boy.”

  “Pretty boy?” he choked out, hitting his chest with his palm.

  I turned my head toward him and offered a tight-lipped smile. “Well, you are sort of pretty.”

  And he was. Like many celebrities, he had a gorgeous tan, although up close his didn’t look artificial. And those eyes. I needed to stop looking at them. The longer I stared, the more they attempted to render me useless and stupid. He wanted me to be stupid.

  “Thanks, I think.” He glanced away, shaking his head and moving his lips, but no sound came out. “No. Fuck that. I don’t want to be pretty. Pretty’s for chicks. I’m not a chick.”

  “Trust me, I know you’re not a chick,” I said as I reached across him for another piece of bread, my hand brushing against his, causing a familiar spark from the concert to come to life and rush through me. Startled, I pulled back quickly, empty-handed.

  “That’s good.” He sighed. “Didn’t want to have to show you just how much of a man I really am.”

  “I’ve already read about it in all the tabloids anyway,” I said with a snicker.

  Walker shot me a sidelong glance and said jokingly, “You’re a pain in my ass. Remind me why I wanted to see you again?”

  I shrugged. “Hell if I know! That’s what I keep asking you.”

  “You really don’t remember, do you?” His lips puckered and his eyes looked wistful as confusion clouded my brain.

  “Remember what?”

  He sucked in a breath before waving me off. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “Are you talking about the concert? Of course I remember the concert.”

  He tapped his fingers against the table, and looked away. “Yeah. The concert.”

  “You’re weird.” I stuffed another
bite of bread into my mouth, already feeling much more in control of my senses and less affected by the alcohol from earlier. I finished off the rest of my water just to be safe, and left my second whiskey sour untouched.

  “Yeah? Well, you’re the one at dinner with me.”

  “Not by choice.” The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them.

  Shit.

  The spoon he’d been fiddling with dropped to the tabletop and clanged against it, the sound cutting through my eardrums. “Wait. What did you just say?” Walker’s tone tightened instantly, no longer amused or flirtatious.

  Anxious energy swirled in the pit of my belly as I thought about not answering at all. Shoot. I needed to fix this, but how?

  “Madison. You said you weren’t here by choice. What does that mean?”

  I met his eyes and answered honestly. “My boss made me come tonight.”

  “He what? Why the fuck would he do that?”

  The anger and hurt in his voice stirred up my sympathies, and I fought off the urge to wrap my arms around him and tell him I didn’t mean it.

  “Because,” I said lamely, pausing as I tried to think up a good lie. I went with the easiest response. “I don’t know.”

  He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at me. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t fucking lie to me, Madison.”

  It was a demeaning and infuriating thing, to be pointed at. “Don’t point at me!” I snapped as he looked down at his finger before pulling it back, his face still hard.

  I’d always prided myself on my personal integrity, but this was a new low for me. In this moment I was no better than my boss, or any of the other assholes in the entertainment industry who did shady things to get ahead.

  “He wants you to sign with him, okay? He heard you were looking for an agent and he wants it to be him.” I looked away from him, instead focusing on the patterns in the grain of the wood tabletop.

  “Is that why you’re here?” he bit out, his tone sounding angry and confused, and maybe a little bit betrayed.

  “Yes,” I admitted with a huff, my involvement in this situation making me feel like a total dirtbag.