Catch a Falling Star (In Love in the Limelight Book 3) Page 5

  But damn, if he could make his program happen this summer—

  “So, school's officially out.”

  Colin turned to the flirty drawl. Tanya ran a long, pink fingernail along the lockers as she approached him.

  “Tanya,” he said.

  She stopped and struck a pose against one of the lockers, displaying her cute little body. As if she needed the extra ammo of the pose. Her clingy tank top and the little skirt were quite enough. And the whistle dangling into her cleavage. Man, the woman coached high school girls. What the hell was she teaching them? It was bad enough his team even had a cheerleading squad.

  “So … for the summer, we're technically not work colleagues,” she pointed out.

  “Technically.”

  “I know it's pretty cliché,” she crooned, “The football coach and the cheerleading coach, but what do you say we go grab a drink? Celebrate the end of the school year?”

  Colin shut the door of the locker in front of him and turned to face her. “Uh … I don't think so. But thanks.” He continued opening lockers.

  She gave him a light laugh. “Come on. We can talk about The Dorm project, adding a facet to it to help the girls of the city, not just the guys.”

  He turned to face her. “No, Tanya. I already said no. If you want to set up something for girls—”

  “And reinvent the wheel?” she scoffed. “With so few tools at my disposal?”

  “So I've done all this work and you want to come along and steal my thunder?”

  Tanya clenched her small fists. “Keep your thunder, Colin. Keep all the credit. I want to use the momentum of your project to help more kids.”

  Colin sighed as he closed the last locker. “Tanya, I'm putting everything I've got into this. Everything. I'm third and inches from sealing the deal on as big a project as I can handle.”

  “As YOU can handle. Did you ever think about all the resources around you, right in your face?” She raised her brows, demanding. “For all the good you do and all the kids you help, did you ever think about how many more you could include if you didn't insist on doing it all yourself?”

  Colin grabbed the bag of the left-behind gear he'd collected and headed to the door.

  “Excuse me,” she called to his back. “We were talking. Is this what you teach your boys? To walk away in the middle of a conversation?”

  Colin turned back to face her. “I am not going to talk about this anymore.”

  Tanya let a smile curl into her lips as she slinked up to him. “Okay. We won't talk about it. But how about that drink?”

  Colin backed up a step. God, was she trying to seduce him into … he didn't even want to think about what her plan might be. But he knew he could not let sex get into his project. Setting up a safe home base, essentially a runaway shelter, for the adrift teenage boys of the city? Sex would kill it quicker than the slippery blade of a guillotine.

  “No, Tanya. Thanks. Not today.”

  “Is it because of this football-cheerleader taboo thing you've got going? I promise I won't make you any brownies or leave you little presents or try to pamper you in any way.”

  She smiled when she said it, but Colin could see the set to her jaw. She hadn't liked it when he'd won the fight to put the kibosh on all that indoctrinated fawning over football players. If the girls wanted to cheer and dance, fine. But that was it, and Tanya hadn't liked him limiting her program like that. But God damn it, high school girls should not be encouraged to seek glory by baking brownies for boys!

  “Sorry Tanya. But it's not in the cards.”

  “You sure?” She sidled up still closer to him.

  He backed further away. “There's someone else.” Shit. Where the fuck had that come from?

  “You're seeing someone?”

  Her eyes seemed to snap at him with skepticism. And why shouldn't they? Nobody on staff at the school could do anything without everyone knowing about it.

  “No,” he said, knowing he had to get out of the locker room, and get her out of the locker room. He couldn't date Tanya. What a clusterfuck that would be. He didn't want to date anyone. Not when the next few weeks were going to be so vital.

  So he started making stuff up. “I'm not seeing her. I can't have her. But she's still the one. I think about her all the time. It wouldn't be fair to go out with someone else. You deserve more.”

  There wasn't someone else, but at least it was a good let down that would get him away from any machinations she might be entertaining. A firm no, but with a compliment. Sort of.

  She drew her eyebrows together. “But if you can't have her—”

  “Don't do that,” he said, heading to the door. “Don't sell yourself short like that.”

  “But Colin,” she argued on a practiced giggle, following him. “Not every date is going to be with your soul mate.”

  “True.” He turned to her. “But it's different if you go out with someone who you know wants someone else.”

  She gave him a saucy smile. “You might change your mind.”

  He rolled his eyes and charged through the door, heading toward the parking lot. Was that all she was about? Getting a man? Any man? No matter what? God, he needed to get his program started. Pronto.

  Before he got into his truck, he turned to her one last time. “Thanks, Tanya. But no. To everything. Have a good summer.”

  Chapter 10

  RAY

  “God, I need to be in bed. Please. In a bed.”

  Wait, did I say that out loud? Who knows. My head is fucking spinning right off my neck.

  I hit the mattress and get a mouth full of pillowcase. I pick up my head as far as I can manage. Purply blue with … were those boats on the pillowcase? Am I in some kid's bed?

  Wait. No. Not boats. Triangles or something. Shapes. Wait—yes—this is my bed. Mine. Not Tom's. Never again Tom's. Never. Done and done.

  Wait—I haven't seen Tom since the huge fight. End. Done. So who dumped me in this bed?

  God … who cares? Thinking makes me want to puke. Was I in a bar before? I must have been to get this hammered. A bar with, like, aquariums or something? There were noisy people there … and … arcade games? Where the hell had I been? Hollywood, I'm pretty sure. God Almighty. At least I somehow ended up home and not chained to the wall in some random guy's cellar.

  Of course I didn't. Nobody took advantage of me. Nobody wanted me. Well, Tom sure as fuck doesn't want me. Tom is such a heartless robot. And it isn't because he's rich and everyone rich is a bastard. Not every Richie Rich is an asshole. Tom has no excuse. Take Wendy. Wendy is so rich. And she isn't a hideous person. Not at all a bit of it. Wendy is the nicest, sweetest, most caring person ever. Why couldn't Tom be more like Wendy? But Tom is more like that dickhead jerk Jon Robin.

  “Why can't Tom be more like Wendy?” I shout.

  Ouch and fucking ouch. It really hurts to shout out loud in the air. But it keeps echoing around in my head. I feel like I've been shouting it for hours. Ever since Tom ended it. No—I ended it. I did. Not Tom. Tom is awful. Not like Wendy. Because Wendy is so nice. So sweet. Why couldn't Tom be more like her?

  Chapter 11

  THE STORY OF WENDY AND COLIN

  It was almost eleven and Wendy could not wait to get home, put on her softest, cushiest socks, and curl into bed. Dinner with Hollywood's brightest young bitches was all but making her splinter. Doing the town with three up-and-coming sitcom stars was shredding her last spun silk nerve. Her publicist Tracy was going to pay for setting this one up. Luckily, the starlets pretty much ignored her the whole time except to grill her about Arlen. Is he gay? Does he cheat on his wife? Did you fuck him? Blow him? I bet I could get him. No me. No me.

  Heavens to Betsy, Wendy never wished she could twitch her nose and turn into a cat so much in her life. But she smiled and sparkled and walked the walk. When the dinner was finally over, the restaurant owner kissed her hand and opened the door for her.

  A barrage of shouts and flashes slapped Wendy right i
n the face.

  Years of training kept her upright and smiling, but what the flip was going on? A full frontal media assault for a dinner with junior divas? Who on earth did publicity for these girls?

  Wendy tuned out the loud demands. She had nothing prepared, so she would just glide through the throng to the pearly Prius the valet had waiting for her.

  But then it happened.

  The Great Wendy Hunter got caught. Trapped. Snagged in the Medusa-like glare of the paparazzi, Wendy turned to stone in mid-stride when she heard the name someone shouted at her.

  Jon Robin.

  Suddenly, the Prius seemed a league away as the questions descended and the microphones closed in.

  “Wendy.”

  She turned to the voice. That voice. If Wendy could be said to have a personal paparazzi stalker, he was it. A.J. Carney. The lout who first broke the story of her nude pictures.

  “A source close to you says you're pretty intimate with Arlen Black and his wife Lola Scott. That you are, in fact, practically family. And the name Jon Robin keeps getting bandied about. You and Jon Robin, Wendy? Jon Robin, of Palm Leaf Beauty?”

  Holy shit. Wendy's heart froze in her chest. No no no no no no. This could NOT be happening. No one could have leaked the story. No one knew! They were fishing. The media vultures were hunting for a carcass. They caught a whiff, but that was all. Wendy HAD to distract them. She HAD to get them away—FAR FAR AWAY—from the topic of her and Jon Robin. If the story ever came to light, the kids would know that their father had essentially sold them. After breaking their hearts for three years in order to satisfy his own sexual jealousy. NO. No one could EVER know!

  Wendy let the panic take her. Her breath came fast as she allowed the tears to push into her eyes.

  “You weren't supposed to know,” she cried softly, pressing her fingers to her lips. “You weren't supposed to know.”

  The gaggle got immediately quiet.

  “He's going to hate this,” Wendy said, biting her lip.

  A.J. moved forward, taking the lead as the reporter in the know. “Jon Robin's going to hate this?”

  And Wendy gave him his spotlight. “No, A.J. You got the wrong guy. You're right that I'm practically family with Arlen and Lola. But you got the wrong guy. Nobody was supposed to know. But now you've tumbled onto it, and I don't want you hounding him for the story.”

  “Is it Arlen Black? Is he the mystery guy? Is he leaving his wife for you?”

  Wendy laughed and sniffed. “No. Of course not. I love them. They're going to be my new family.” She took a deep breath. “I'm engaged to Lola's brother. I'm going to marry Colin Scott.”

  Chapter 12

  THE STORY OF WENDY AND COLIN

  He could feel the dew spring up to hit him in the shins as he ran along the messy grass verge. Only one car so far had passed him along the stretch of country road, and Colin knew he'd make it home before the 6 a.m. traffic got into gear, with the blistering sun not far behind. But now the heat was tolerable and the morning hush worked its magic as he ran, so he let the day's practice schedule fall into place in his head like so many Tetris pieces. Michael would get his chance at starting wide-out today. Man, why the hell hadn't DeShawn listened! Acting like cock of the walk while a freshman was champing at the bit to take his spot. And no untalented freshman, either. Michael knew—

  “Whoa.”

  Colin pulled up short as he rounded the corner of Decatur Street and saw them.

  Reporters. And there were so many of them. With microphones. And cameras. Colin's heart kicked into hyperdrive.

  Oh Jesus oh Jesus oh Jesus. Lola? Arlen? Oh Jesus.

  What would reporters be doing in front of his house at 6 a.m. unless something had happened to Lola—or Arlen? Arlen was the famous one. Oh, no. No no no no.

  Colin needed to get into the house stat—to his cell that was turned off and charging. And … and a pencil. Yeah, he needed a pencil, and his computer and coffee. He needed it all NOW. Colin put down his head and barreled forward with all the might and speed he could wring out of every last tendon and sinew in his body. When he reached the throng, they swarmed around him, sticking microphones in his face and shouting questions at him. But the blood was pounding so loudly in his ears that he couldn't make out anything they were yelling. He pushed through them, leapt over the railing onto the front porch, and sped through the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

  He went to the kitchen and wrenched the charging cord out of his phone as he turned it on. But he couldn't wait the minute for it to boot up so he hurried over to the land line. With shaking fingers—shaking fingers, damn it!—he hit the speed dial for Lola.

  No answer. No fucking answer. Her show wasn't even in production. What possible reason could she have not to answer? Her cell was always on her. What if she was at the hospital and couldn't talk? Or worse, at the—

  No! Colin wasn't going to go there.

  He rubbed his hands over his face and when he pulled them away, he found himself staring at the kitchen clock.

  5:50.

  In the morning.

  Colin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was only 3:50 in Los Angeles. And Lola and Arlen had that policy of all devices off and plugged in to charge by 10pm. Right. God. Most of his students would freak with a social media curfew like that.

  Wait. His students. Social media.

  Twitter.

  If anything had happened to Arlen, it would be trending on Twitter. Arlen wasn't on any social media, but his fans sure were. @AdoringArlen would know if anything had happened to him.

  Colin sank onto the couch. He was still sweaty from his morning run but he felt chilled to the core as he tapped the Twitter app on his phone.

  Please Please Please don't let there be anything wrong with Arlen.

  He swiped a finger across the screen and the bottom fell out of his world.

  Arlen wasn't trending on Twitter.

  He was.

  Colin was. Colin Scott was trending on Twitter.

  Colin Scott and Wendy Hunter.

  His eyes felt like they were rattling around in his head and he couldn't see straight. This couldn't be real. It couldn't. He rubbed his face hard and took a deep breath. Then he focused on a tweet. Wendy Hunter announces her engagement to Arlen Black's bro-in-law Colin Scott.

  What the FUCK?

  There he was—his name—right there on the sidebar of Twitter, right below Wendy's name. He tapped on her name. First up, a tweet with a link to her press announcement on YouTube. He tapped the link at the end of the tweet, feeling himself plunge right down the rabbit hole.

  Wendy was coming out of a restaurant into a sea of paparazzi. They were shouting so many questions that Colin could barely make anything out. Affair? Family? Something about Arlen? Then Colin heard what one reporter shouted. Jon Robin.What's the story with you and Jon Robin?

  His gut clenched. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

  Wendy looked shocked and scared in the streaming images. And teary. Oh, fuck, her nose was getting red. Red! Holy shit, Wendy was really crying.

  This couldn't be happening. None of this could really be happening.

  “No, A.J. You got the wrong guy.”

  Colin swallowed, watching Wendy engage with one of the reporters.

  “You're right that I'm practically family with Arlen and Lola. But you got the wrong guy. Nobody was supposed to know. But now you've tumbled onto it, and I don't want you hounding him for the story.”

  “Is it Arlen Black? Is he the mystery guy? Is he leaving his wife for you?”

  “No. Of course not. I love them. They're going to be my new family.”

  Colin watched her take a big, shaky breath.

  “I'm engaged to Lola's brother. I'm going to marry Colin Scott.”

  Colin's pulse kicked up and the blood pounding through his muscles was rocking him right off kilter. But he managed to watch as the reporters hurled questions and accusations at her. Some were skeptic
al, some were pissed off at having been kept in the dark. God. They really thought they had a right to know about Wendy's personal life! Bastards. Every single one. Especially that A.J. prick.

  “We met at the wedding.”

  Colin watched as Wendy's gaze got all far-off and misty.

  “It was love at first sight. It was magic. It was amazing. I've never felt anything like it.”

  Colin noticed how Wendy smiled a sneaky little smile.

  “You almost caught us, then. That night. You were so close, and I was terrified you were going to wreck the best thing that had ever happened to me.”

  Questions shouted at her. Demands to explain.

  Oh no. Oh no. FUCK NO. She had been making most of it up. But now she was going to say something real. Something true. About him.

  “The night of Lola's wedding, someone snapped a picture of me in the hotel. Everyone assumed I'd been there with Enrico. But I'd never even met Enrico. And I certainly didn't know he was there that night. I was there with Colin.”

  God, no. Colin felt a burning spear through his gut. No no no. The whole world knew that Coach Scott hooked up at his sister's wedding. No no no no no.

  “I was leaving Colin's room. I got caught on the fifth floor. Check it out. The night of Arlen Black and Lola Scott's wedding, her brother Colin Scott was staying on the fifth floor. Room 543.”

  “So it was a cheap after-wedding hook-up?”

  Colin clenched his fists. Okay. That A.J. bottom-feeder needed to die. But Colin watched as Wendy smiled all dreamy-like and started to sing softly.

  “Ever since that night, now we're together...”

  “But how? How have you been together? Doesn't he live in New Orleans?”