Page 55 of Saving Ian Pope

Chloe swirled her drink. “Apparently, he does. You have all this shit going on that he doesn’t know about; why is this deception any different? This one would actually do him some good. He doesn’t have to know. The record company is paying you. It’s not like you’re suddenly going to be living large off his fat stacks. You’re going to be handing it over to Matt. It’ll be enough to keep the little weasel quiet, until I can figure out a way to shut him down.”

“Ooh, you’re going to shut down Matt?” Diego rubbed his hands together. “Do tell.”

“I’m working on it. In the meantime, I think Ivy should accept the offer.” Chloe took a minute out of giving advice to wrap a strand of hair around her finger and smile at an attractive man sitting by the window. “I wasn’t going to tell you, Ivy, but I stumbled across a few hints and rumors about Ian and his inability to finish the album. So, the stuff’s out there.”

I smacked my hand against my chest. “You’re kidding. Who are these vultures roaming around, swooping in on every star’s weakness.”

“Girl, you have no idea what’s going on in the business. It’s cutthroat. And Chloe?” Diego tapped her glass with his finger. “I think that guy you’re eye-fucking over there is looking at me.”

Chloe flopped back in her chair. “Itistrue. All the hot men in LA are gay.”

Thirty minutes later and still not through my first margarita, I called it a night.

Diego cajoled. “Come with us to this club. They play a lot of old Motown. You’d love it.”

“I’ll go with you another time. I promise.” I covered an exaggerated yawn with one hand. “That tequila made me tired.”

“Girl, you didn’t drink enough tequila to lose one inhibition.” He wagged a finger at me like a gay granny. “If you’re not going back to the popstar, then you need to get a life.”

Chloe flicked some bills on the table for a tip, as Diego had put the tab on his card. That’s how we usually split the bill, but they wouldn’t let me pay anything tonight.

As Chloe pushed back her chair, she said, “Oh, Ivy’s going back to the popstar tonight—she has a pillow with his face on it.”

Diego arched a plucked eyebrow. “Well, at least you get to sit on Ian Pope’s face.”

The two of them cackled, as I steered their drunk asses out of the bar and saw them into their Uber. I hopped into my own Uber a few minutes later and headed home. As the driver left the freeway, I scooted forward. “I decided on another destination.”

He turned down his classical music, Chopin, if memory served, and said. “Put it in your phone.”

I eased back, phone in hand, and entered the new location on the app. Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled in front of the Santa Monica Pier, and I stepped out, pulling my jacket around my skimpy top.

I hadn’t even driven past the pier since that last night with Ian—our last real night together when we made sweet love, and he told me he loved me. I ordered a Diet Coke from the same fish stand where we’d eaten our first dinner together and sat at the picnic table where his fans had swarmed him. I didn’t believe torturing myself like this did any good, but I couldn’t help it.

My phone rang in my pocket, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw my brother’s name. Could my life get any worse if I answered it? “Hey, Matt.”

“Now, that’s a nice greeting. So different from your usual bitchy tone. You must be in love.”

My knee started bouncing. “Sure.”

“You lied to me, sis. You told me you saw Ian Pope that one night at the concert, but I saw some fan pics of the two of you. Looked all loved up, as the tabloids say.”

I sighed. “Okay, I did see him a few times, but nothing happened, and he’s back in England. What little we had is over.”

“You’re trying to tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“Eww, I’m not answering your questions.”

“Whatever, I really don’t wanna know, and I heard he’s back with his ex-girlfriend, anyway.”

I almost dropped my phone. “I didn’t hear that. Where did you read that?”

“It doesn’t matter, but since you did spend some time with him, it puts you in a better position.”

“Better position to what?” My hand was gripping the wooden picnic table so hard, I’d leave with slivers.

“Suggest to him that he sexually molested you, and you’re ready to go public unless he pays up.”

My stomach lurched. “I already told you. I’m not doing that, and I’m sure his team would go after me so hard to discredit me and ruin me, the whole scheme would collapse...and then I’d have no chance of getting him back.”

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