Page 49 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
Something shifts in Erika, but it quickly dissolves back to her flat facade. “We’re in the same talks with Mr. and Mrs. Hayes we’ve always been. No need to worry about that.”
“But they looked so distraught. Shouldn’t they...”
Erika cuts me off. “I really don’t have time to talk about Wyatt’s parents. Besides, you should be getting back to Clearview.”
I back away slowly. “Maybe I should just speak to them before I go?”
Erika huffs. “Look, if you really want to chat with Wyatt’s parents,I’m sure they’ll be back at the clinic today. Or, if they don’t show up, they’re staying on this floor.” There’s an air of annoyance in her tone. “We’ve had to give them the royal treatment, of course.”
“He is their son,” it comes out of me wounded. I mean, why wouldn’t they get a fancy suite if I did? They’re the most important people in his life. I’ve been a ghost for nearly two years.
Erika stomps on her cigarette and shuts the balcony door behind her. “Come on,” she says, marching past me. “I’ll take the car to the clinic with you.”
“Okay,” I say, trailing behind.
Why do I get the sinking feeling she wants to make sure I avoid Wyatt’s parents?
Downstairs, Erika beckons me to follow her toward the revolving front door of the hotel. As we near, loud chatter bursts in from off the street. I slow my pace as a hard wave of unease crashes over me. As Erika beckons me to hurry up, the distinct clicks of cameras prick my ears.
What the actual heck is going on out there?
Erika snaps her fingers. “Today, Josie.”
I swallow the warning signs leaping up from my cramping stomach and force my feet forward. The chatter gets faster as people with phones and DSLR cameras get a glimpse of us exiting the Gran Palacio Hotel.
“That’s her,” someone yells across the mass of voices. “The girl who was with Lexy Davenport yesterday. Erika, Erika! Who is this mysterious girl?”
My chest constricts as the whole crowd sucks air out of the space around me. My knees clang together and I shiver as lenses zoom in on me.
Security opens the back of our idle SUV, and Erika pushes past the onlookers, entering the car first. Barely keeping upright, I make my way across the sidewalk. With locked shoulders against my earlobes, I cupmy hands around my face as strangers fire questions at me. Someone flashes their camera at me, and while I blink away the spots and someone else grabs my arm.
“Hey!” the security guard barks. “Get back and keep your hands to yourselves!”
I launch myself into the car, panting my breaths as security closes the car door. I shudder, still feeling the person’s handprint on the top of my arm. My stomach jitters and bile lines the back of my throat.
“Well handled, Josie,” Erika says, scrolling on her phone.
I swallow hard, wincing at her disinterested face as my trembling hands fumble into my lap.
My dad’s skepticism leaches through me once again. Was that all a setup? Is Erika using me to keep Wyatt’s name in the gossip columns? Did they prep all those people outside, waiting for us to leave this morning?
I swallow hard again, sucking in a breath as the bile urges to release.
“Eww,” Erika mutters. “Are you going to be sick?”
Did she really justewwme?
“No,” I murmur, folding my arms. “I’ll be fine.”
The entire car ride, Erika taps furiously on her phone as deep set wrinkles harden into her brow. When we enter the Clearview Clinic she still appears deep in thought as she marches to the elevator and hits the number three button.
“Wyatt’s doing physical therapy in the gym,” Erika says, checking a notification on her phone. “I just want to check in before leaving for my next meeting.”
When we exit the elevator, Erika rattles off a list of tasks in a voice note and sends it to Randall. Her energy spikes have my head spinning and it’s hard to keep up on our way to the gym.
I gulp, finding a man in all-black standing in front of a closed door, arms folded.
He puts his hand up like a stop sign, eyes locked on Erika. “No way.”
