My Best Friend's Brother(26)

     



 


"And I promise, if I leave, I'll tell you," he said, winking.


"Yeah. Thanks for that."


"Before we leave, however, we should talk about how we're going to handle tomorrow night," he said.


"Oh. Yes. Yes, we really do. I'll already be with Emma. You'll be the one meeting up with us," I said.


"When I address you, I'll probably use your whole name. Since that's how people you're first meeting usually address you."


"How do you know that?" I asked.


"Because new people always address me by my first and last name because that's how it's said in the media. It'll sell the part."


"Gotcha. All right. We've got to keep to the lighter topics of  conversation. The weather. Your work. The interview. Anything deeper  than that, and Emma will get suspicious," I said.


"Got it. Most of my attention should be on Emma anyway. Since I'm technically making up something to her."


"Good. That's less shit we have to sell," I said.


"Plan made?" he asked.


"Plan made. Let's get back to my place. I'm whipped."


Mason paid our tab without a second thought before he helped me out of  my chair. He kept his hand in mine as we strolled through the  restaurant, and I just had to trust that he knew what he was doing. He  walked me to my car and opened my door for me, pausing as I looked up at  him. My mind was so clouded with exhaustion, and he looked so beautiful  with the blazing sun as his backdrop, and before I knew it, our lips  were moving closer and closer together.


Then, a repeated clicking sound came from the bushes of the restaurant.


Just before Mason's lips could hit mine, my head turned toward the  restaurant. I saw a man wiggling around, trying to unhook himself from  the branches of the bushes he'd ducked behind. Mason followed my line of  sight as his hand dropped from my chin, and we both took off after him  as he ran from us.


Mason lunged out in front of me and grabbed his arm, whipping him around  as his camera went crashing to the ground. I picked it up and toggled  through his photos, seeing shots of us sitting and eating. Sitting and  laughing. Sitting and enjoying one another while Mason's foot was  crawling up my skin.


Then there were the pictures of Mason and I so close to kissing out in the parking lot.


"You were in the fucking restaurant?" I asked.


"Give me that camera," he said.


"Oh, no you don't," Mason said.


"You know this restaurant is off-limits to paparazzi, right?" I asked.


"I wasn't refused service," he said, grinning.


"By the looks of the angles on these pictures, I'd say you didn't ask  for it. You were sitting at the bar when you took these, were you not?"


"Whatever you two do on your own time out in public is for us to photograph. Not our fault you can't handle it."


"I'm not sure where you get off talking to us like that, but let me be  clear," Mason said. "Sarah's going to delete those pictures, and I'm  going to take one of your cards."


He reached into the man's breast pocket and pulled out a card with his name and office number on it.


"Then, I'm going to make your life a living nightmare. One call to your  boss letting him know where you were and what you were doing will end  your career," Mason said.


"If you delete those pictures, you won't have proof," the man said.


"It's us against your word. The biggest rising tech mogul in the country  and the single biggest female influence in the state of Texas. You want  to risk that on some low-life photography career?" I asked.


I took to deleting his photos before I opened up his camera and took out  the SIM card. He groaned and bellyached, but all Mason did was hold him  still. I deleted them from the immediate roll before I deleted them  from the internal memory, then I threw the SIM card onto the ground and  crunched it with my heel.


"You're going to pay for that, you selfish bitch," he said.


"Here," Mason said as he let the man go. "Go get yourself another one."


Mason tossed a fifty-dollar bill at the man before he took my hand and  escorted me back to my car. I was shaking. Visibly shaking. The manager  was running around the building, trying to chase down the man we were  just talking with as I leaned up against my car. I felt angry. Angry  that someone actually thought our lives were tailor-made for them to  photograph, but mostly I felt relieved.


Relieve that we'd caught him before he published anything.         

     



 


But as I looked up at Mason, I could tell he wasn't quite so relieved.  His shoulders were rolled back, and his lips were curled in. His eyes  had a far-off look in them, and when I tried to wrap my hand around his,  he pulled it away.


It was almost like he was mad that I had to delete those photos.


"You know we couldn't have let those get out," I said. "We did the right thing."


"Yeah," he said breathlessly. "Just  …  yeah. A bit more excitement than I was expecting."


"You still want to come back to my place?" I asked.


"Probably not the best idea after something like that," he said.


Even though I could hear the stability in his voice, he still wasn't looking down at me.


"Are you mad that I had to delete the photos?" I asked.


I didn't know what I was expecting. He needed to say he wasn't. This was  the agreement from the beginning. One of the stipulations was that the  paparazzi couldn't see us doing what we were doing. It would be bad  publicity for myself as well as my show, and it wouldn't look good on  him as he tried to rehabilitate his image with the scandals that  followed him into his first year of success.


But when he answered, the last thing I expected to feel was disappointment.


"No. I'm not mad at all. Let me know when you get home, okay?"


I watched him get into his car and drive off. I kept my eyes on his red  car, and he buzzed down the road, zipping in and out of traffic like he  always did. The manager came up to me and was trying to apologize,  saying the staff would crack down on managing the bar and that the  bartender who allowed him to sit there and take pictures had been  relieved of his job.


I didn't care, however. The only thing I was focused on was the disappointment I was feeling.


Why was I disappointed in his answer?





Chapter 22


Mason


I'd finally gotten a text from Emma letting me know where I needed to  meet her for tonight. I watched the news like a hawk all last night to  see if any of those pictures had somehow seen the light of day. But,  with no news talk and no urgent phone call from Tony, it looked like  Sarah and I were out of the woods.


I just wasn't sure how I felt about that yet.


I dressed in my nicest pinstriped suit and headed to the restaurant  where Emma wanted us to meet. It was some barbecue pit with a full bar  and outdoor patio seating. The hostess walked me through the building  and up to the rooftop dining they offered, and right away, I was  impressed. I would never have expected a barbecue joint to have rooftop  dining, and they even had a decent view of the city.


"Mason! Over here."


I turned toward Emma's voice as a mass of white-blond hair came bouncing  in my direction. She threw her arms around me, and I hugged her back as  I tried to hide the shock zipping around in my system. Why was she so  happy to see me after I'd blown her off? Dodged her phone calls?


I felt as if I understood less and less about women every single day.


"I'm glad you made it. Thank you," she said as she stood in front of me.


"It's the very least I can do," I said, smiling.


"Come on. I want you to meet my best friend."


My heart hammered in my ears as my eyes caught Sarah's. She had a small  smile on her face like she didn't even know who she was looking at. We  got over to the table, and Emma sat me down beside her, which meant I'd  have to stare at Sarah's beautiful fucking face all night and not say a  word to her about anything substantial.


Great.


"Sarah Williams. We meet again."


"Hello there, Mason Baker. Did you watch your own interview?" she asked.


"Of course. I was lovely as always. And you weren't so bad yourself," I said, winking.


"Seriously, Mason? Are you already hitting on my friend?" Emma asked.


"Well, she is a very beautiful friend," I said.


Her gaze hardened for a split second while Emma was giggling at me.


This was going to be much easier than I originally thought.


"Well, it's nice to come across you again. Had I known you were my best  friend's brother, I would've talked with you a bit more after the show."


"I'm sure you would've," I said.


"I am so excited the two of you are meeting. Formally, at least. Meeting  on a show isn't really meeting. You don't get to know someone that  way."


"No, you don't," I said, smirking.


The way Sarah wiggled around in her seat was amusing to me. I was going  to have a splendid time at this dinner, even if Sarah was secretly  wanting to kill me the entire time.