Seeing Angie as a brunette was a trip, to say the least. She had always been a blonde when we were growing up, but she went dark for this role. It made her sexier in a sophisticated way … more alluring. She wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, but a trick of the camera angles only showed her smooth ass and perky tits. Her body was unreal. Although her tits weren't huge, they were as perfect as any pair I've ever seen on TV or in person. Made me rock hard just imagining the opportunity to palm them in my hands.
I considered beating off to the image until she got freaky with Theo. From the camera angle it seemed impossible there wouldn't be penetration involved between her and the famous actor when filming the scene. Then I reminded myself they're having sex either way, and I was ready to blow chunks. I was unreasonably angry for days, starting random fights, and putting extra time in at the ring.
I haven't been able to scrub the fucked-up imagery from my memory, and the woman at my side won't shut up about her favorite scenes the entire time the plane taxis to the gate. Once we're given the clear to unbuckle our seat-belts, I hand over her carryon from the overhead bin, and swipe mine out before slipping into the exit line. Like a jerk, I don't bother saying goodbye or asking for her number. I'm too worked up thinking how thousands of people witnessed Angie acting naked.
Just as I'm heading out the airport's automatic doors, I get a text from Evelyn saying they've pulled up to the curb. Hardly have a chance to suck in the thick, suffocating air before arms twin around my neck, and a very round belly slams into my gut.
"Ash! I'm so happy you're here!"
Once I'm able to recover from the surprise ambush, I chuckle and give my best buddy's little sister a squeeze. "Hey, Ev! You're really … pregnant."
She pulls away, studying me behind large sunglasses. Underneath a floppy sunhat, she's unrecognizable. "How could you not know? They must post half a dozen pictures of me online every week. I swear the world is obsessed with the size of my stomach this time around. It's like no one famous has ever had a second child before."
"Hunter said something awhile back, but I guess I forgot." I shrug and rub at my unshaven jaw, wondering why it's always assumed that everyone stays up to date with celebrity news. They don't report that kind of shit on ESPN. "You look great though. What does Mia think about becoming a big sister?"
"She's too young to understand. I'm sure she'll hate it when she no longer has my undivided attention." Hooking her arm through mine, she leads me to a sleek town car parked a few yards away, its suited driver sitting behind the steering wheel. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but it was kind of nice having time off from mommy duty while down here. Shar and James were saints to take her. They already have their hands full with Franklin, and Shar's even bigger than I am. Mia adores her auntie though. I'm expecting her to pitch a fit when we pick her up tomorrow."
"Wait. You're leaving tomorrow?" I cock a brow at her. "Thought you invited me to come hang with you for the week."
"I'll fill you in on the details over lunch." Pinching her lips together, she pats my arm before motioning to the open trunk. "Throw your things in. We found this great seafood joint near the pier that serves killer mojitos-at least according to Charlie. If you don't need to freshen up, we can head down there now."
Though made suspicious by whatever's up her sleeve, I toss my duffle bag into the trunk and slam it shut, stoked by the idea of someone serving me drinks for a change.
It's a little more tolerable to sit in the sweltering heat once I have a fresh mojito in hand. The view of buildings standing tall behind the blue water, hordes of people spread out in the water and on the sand enjoying the hot day on the Miami coastline isn't something I'll forget anytime soon. A guy could adjust to this view versus the flat planes of home. We're seated on a large outdoor patio in a private corner where the host promised we won't be bothered by fans. Both Charlie and Evelyn became relaxed right away, removing their hats and sunglasses. Dante, Charlie's bodyguard, sips on a water from a few tables away, keeping a close watch on the other patrons.
I'm too preoccupied to fully appreciate that I'm over a thousand miles from home and near the ocean. Don't know why they'd invite me down when they're leaving, but I need to know. Evelyn's as chatty as ever, and crafty about avoiding the subject weighing heavily on my mind.
Setting my nearly empty glass on the table, I lean back and rest an ankle over a knee. "Can we talk about why I'm here if you guys are leaving?"
Evelyn nods hesitantly, then takes a long sip of her lemon water. She meets my gaze with watering eyes. "Angie's … not doing so well."
A tick passes through my jaw. "What's goin' on?"
"After the premiere the other night, she collapsed in the hallway outside her apartment," Charlie answers, waiting for my reaction while crossing his inked arms over his chest. "Someone called nine-one-one and they took her by ambulance. She had an unusually high amount of benzos in her system, so they pumped her stomach to be safe."
The fuck? "Benzos?" I ask.
"Anxiety meds," Evelyn clarifies. "She took five times the prescribed dosage. The ER doctor told us they can become highly addictive to some people."
"Jesus," I mutter, running a hand over my short hair. Memories resurface from the night she passed out on me at her brother's. She said it was a fluke, and claimed she hadn't done it since high school. Now I wonder if she was telling the truth. What the hell's going on with her? "How bad is it? Are we talking rehab?"
"We don't think it's necessary … at least not yet." Evelyn dabs at her eyes with a crooked finger. "The doctors drew her blood and ran some tests, but they couldn't find anything else wrong. They think it may have just been a combination of her meds mixed with alcohol. We were told to monitor her for a few days to see if she shows any signs of addiction, so we stayed a little longer than planned. Ever since the premiere, she seems to be doing fine. She claims she doesn't normally drink more than a glass or two at a time, and said she took a few extra pills because she was on edge. She had a lot going on that night, so it's understandable that she may have been upset and drinking more than usual."
My eyes narrow. "What do you mean she had a lot going on? She was nervous about the premiere, or what?"
"One of the security guards felt her up while we were with her on the red carpet." Charlie stops to rub his fingers along his clean-shaven jaw, darkness stirring behind his gaze. The same kind of deep-seeded anger in his expression thickens my throat. "Angie seemed real shook up by it-as she should've been. Fuckwad had no right touching her that way. I made a call the next morning, made sure the security company fired his sorry ass."
"She also told me that a fan had grabbed her before we arrived," Evelyn adds.
What the hell makes these people think Angie's public property, free to be groped? How does she put up with this lifestyle? "Where was this boyfriend of hers when this shit was going down?"
"He just stood there," Charlie replies with a grunt. "Didn't say a fucking word or do a damn thing to help the situation."
Hot bile brews in my stomach. Had I been there, I would've laid the security guard flat out for having the balls to touch her. This "boyfriend" can't be anything too special if she was alone when she collapsed.
Evelyn begins rubbing her husband's arm, also sensing he's close to losing his temper. Between the two of us, there's a lot of testosterone being thrown around. "There's more to the story. Angie swears there was someone already inside her apartment when she got there."
I shoot up to my feet, fists clenched. "The fuck?" The urge to punch something becomes so overwhelming that I want to roar. It's been weeks since I've been in a ring, and this shit doesn't help. The only thing holding me back is the fact that I've drawn attention from a few of the patrons, and Charlie's bodyguard appears ready to wrestle me down. I plop back down in my chair, quickly downing the rest of my drink. "Did she tell the cops?"
With a heavy sigh, Evelyn nods. "Yeah, and they already checked the security cameras that record the building's exterior. They didn't see anyone out of the ordinary around the time she returned home. They're not taking it too seriously considering everything that was in her system. Whether someone was actually there or not, we're afraid this is only the tip of the iceberg now that everyone's becoming obsessed over the show. Her agent suggested we hire a private bodyguard. We think it'd be a good way to monitor the drug thing too."
I let out a flat, unamused chuckle. "What you're really saying is you want someone to babysit her."
"That's not true," Evelyn insists. When I frown back at her, she lifts her eyebrows and rolls a hand through the air. "I mean … okay, yeah, maybe that's part of it, but we want to give the job to someone we can rely on without question. Someone who cares about her, and can keep an eye on her for the family."