Page 8 of See You There
Dahlia grabbed her purse as the Range Rover came to a halt and climbed out on shaky legs. She heard Chandler’s door slam, and he came around the hood, his mood calmer than before.
“What just happened, Chandler?” Her voice was shaky. She hated that. Hated to show him any weakness.
His face pinched. “Paparazzi—”
“I’m not talking about the paparazzi. I’m talking about your freakout just now.”
“I didn’t freak out.” Chandler’s face reddened again.
Dahlia folded her arms across her short-sleeved white blouse. “You could have killed us… or someone else! Who were those guys?”
Chandler’s shoulders slumped. “They collect for some people I owe.”
Dahlia’s mouth fell open. That wasn’t what she was expecting. “People you owe—do you mean from that place you took me? Gambling?”
Chandler’s face took on a mulish expression. “My luck turned after you left with Matt.”
“You lost money? Pay them!”
“It’s not that simple. I don’t have that much cash. I need to move some assets around.”
Dahlia tried not to roll her eyes. She wasn’t sure where Chandler had heard those phrases, but she would bet her own money he didn’t have any idea what they meant.
“How much do you owe?” Exasperation turned to concern when Chandler’s gaze slid away from hers. “A lot?”
He waved his arm in the air. “It’s not like I’m not good for it! I’m a movie star. Why should I jump through hoops for them? Fucking thugs.”
Dahlia’s eyes widened. She recognized the defensive anger too well. Memories threatened to swamp her. “You don’t have it, do you? Holy crap, Chandler! How much?”
“Two hundred,” he muttered, looking at the ground.
“Thousand?” she cried. “You lost two hundred thousand dollars on a card game.”
“Craps.”
“And now they’re looking for the money?” She threw her hands up. “Can’t you sell a car or something?”
Chandler made a face. “I lease.”
Dahlia’s face wrinkled. She knew why she didn’t see most of the money she earned, but Chandler should have a healthy account by now. “Could you borrow it?”
“From whom?” He laughed, but his eyes were desperate, and a trickle of sympathy crept through her. “Doyouhave that kind of scratch?”
She shook her head, and Chandler moaned, bringing his hands to his head. “I should go to some rehab or something. For gambling. That will buy me some time. Get some massages, work out…”
Dahlia was skeptical. “If you owe that much, won’t they just wait until you come out? Maybe you could come to an agreement with them. My… friend… had a similar problem. Sometimes bookies are happy to get even a portion of what you owe. They don’t get paid if they hurt you.”
Well, not if they hurt you badly, that is. Scott had come home with bruises plenty of times. “Do you have something you could offer them?”
Chandler looked thoughtful, and then he flashed his bright white, movie-star veneers at her. “You know, Lia, you’re usually a cold fish, but you might have something there. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“Are you going to drive normally?”
He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Somehow, I suspect you weren’t a scout,” Dahlia said, climbing back in the car.
The next evening,when she came out of her Pilates class, Dahlia pressed the button to turn her phone back on. Lately, she’d been turning her phone off to avoid Victor’s constant texts and calls. He sensed his golden goose was slipping away, and he was currently alternating between wheedling promises and threats.
