Page 31 of Just Friends Forever
“So,” I say, reaching for the doorknob, “shall we head to this showing?”
She stops me with a hand on my arm, and I search her face. “What?”
“I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
“For the showing? Or for the paps?” Thanks to my venture down the dark hole of celebrity interviews, I know that’s what the cool kids call paparazzi. Cool kids meaning the people who are considered interesting enough to have their cup of morning coffee documented on the front pages of newspapers and magazines.
“The latter. I don’t want to give them confirmation I’m here. Maybe if I stay inside, they’ll go away?” She doesn’t sound at all convinced.
I don’t respond right away. It’s not missing the showing that’s bothering me. It just doesn’t seem right for Stevie to live her life—ornotlive her life—based on some annoying, overeager photographers. They have way too much power if they can keep her locked inside.
“I know it seems dumb,” she says, “but I’ve had a few scary run-ins with some of these guys. Car chases, drones hovering over houses, that kind of thing. One of them actually grabbed me one time.”
My jaw clenches instinctively. If I’d been there, I’d have punched the guy out. “Are they allowed to do that?”
“Not legally, no. But Curtis would never press charges. He’s terrified of antagonizing the media.”
I hold my tongue, but I have… feelings about this. Stevie has become genuinely scared of these creeps because Curtis let them walk all over her.
Regardless of whose fault it is, though, Stevie’s fear is real and valid, and I don’t want to push her to do something that makes her uncomfortable.
“Okay,” I say lightly. “No showings today. We’ll just order in. Hunker down. Turn off all the lights. Light some candles. Bust out my emergency preparedness kit. There are some freeze-dried eggs I’ve had my eye on.”
“Freeze-dried eggs?” She looks like she’s ready to gag.
I rub my stomach and open the door to my apartment, even though I actually considered throwing them out when I saw them in the pack. “Add some hot sauce, and you’ll be licking your lips, Stevia.”
“You and your hot sauce,” she says, heading up the stairs in front of me.
“It was love at first burn,” I say, texting the agent to let her know we won’t be coming after all.
10
STEVIE
We orderfrom our old standby: Sawadee Palace. Troy gets his usualpad kee mao, and I get Massaman curry. As we wait for delivery, I can’t help going to the window and peeking through the slits in the blinds. Maybe I’m being too paranoid and the car I saw was a fixture of the neighborhood. When I look, it’s still there, parked across the street and one house away. Someone is still in the front seat, their head turned in this direction.
“Whatcha doin’?” Troy asks from his place at the table, a little tilt to his mouth. He’s got his laptop out, catching up on emails.
I shut the blinds and head back to the table. “Just seeing if the food is here.”
“Uh-huh.” He smiles knowingly. “You realize the app tells me when they’re almost here, right?”
I slump down in the chair. “Okay, I’m being totally paranoid. I’m not crazy, though, right? That car doesn’t belong to any of your neighbors?”
He shakes his head, some of his amusement dissipating.
“I just don’t understand how they could have found out.”
“Who knows you’re here?”
“That’s the thing. No one.”
“Not even Curtis?”
I shake my head. “All of our communication for the last few months has been through our lawyers, and I haven’t even told mine where I am. Just that I’m in the LA area. Besides, Curtis wouldn’t really care.”
There’s a short silence as I rub distractedly at a small dent in the table. I look up to find Troy’s gaze on me, a little frown pulling at his forehead. I probably seem pretty pathetic, but it’s true. Curtis told his staff to see that I was provided for during our separation, which I appreciate, but he’s not really a details guy.
