"I would say you've gotta be joking, but that's too sad not to be true. Sorry 'bout your luck and your big splashy Hollywood career that ain't happenin'. Now, tell me what was the point of coming here and making a big scene? Anything between us is dead. Done. Over."
The flush of embarrassment fades from her cheeks as her eyes take on a calculating gleam. She stretches an arm out and lays her hand on my thigh.
"Oh, Boone, we're not even close to over. I need you now more than ever."
* * *
The SUV drives away, leaving me at the corner near my agent's building. No way was I going to let the press follow Amber's SUV all the way to my place, and that's on top of the fact that I don't want to spend thirty minutes letting her explain why she thinks what she did was no big deal, and how we can "save each other" by getting back together.
Call me old fashioned and a little bit country, but it's a big fucking deal. I wouldn't tie myself to Amber again if my balls were on fire and she was the only person who could put them out.
I scan the street, hoping the press isn't on me already, and duck into the building. The security guard at the desk stands up when I walk in.
"Sir-" he starts.
I tip up the bill of my hat, and his eyes widen in recognition.
Yeah, man. I'm not the one you're trying to keep out.
There was a time years ago when he might have thrown me out for trying to get a meeting with an agent, but those days are over.
I ride the elevator up to Nick's office, hoping like hell he's actually here. When the receptionist catches sight of me, she straightens in her seat.
"Mr. Thrasher, did you have an appointment? I don't recall-"
I ignore her and push right through the door that leads into the inner sanctum, Nick's slick corner office. She reaches for the phone, but I'm going to beat her there.
"Where the fuck were you?" I don't bother with a greeting as I shove open his door.
Inside, a young, skinny blonde, who looks like she's more likely to be another wannabe Britney Spears than a country girl, sits perched on the edge of the expensive leather chair. But then again, couldn't someone say that about Amber? That she would fit in better climbing the pop charts in LA than she does in Nashville's country scene?
Nick sighs. "I'm sorry, Jerrica, we'll have to continue this later."
She rises to her pink pumps with a smile aimed in my direction.
Another Barbie lookalike. Perfect. Just what this town needs.
Once she's out of the office, I stride to the window and look out over the city I love. Music City. Where I belong.
When I spin around, I toss another question at Nick since he hasn't answered my first. "Where were you? Did you know she was coming?"
Nick lowers himself back into his fancy leather chair after letting the blonde out and crosses his arms. "I'd be a little more concerned about the charges than your girlfriend picking you up."
"Ex-girlfriend," I growl through gritted teeth.
"Ex-girlfriend," he says, correcting himself. "But you know, it's worth pointing out that if you were still with Amber and had never gotten mixed up with this Ripley girl, none of this would have happened. I told you to stay away from her. Keep a low profile. But you didn't listen. You gonna listen now? Because putting some distance between you two would be the best thing for you."
"Are you shitting me? You want to put this all on Ripley?"
"Her cousin got you thrown in jail."
"Because she's a bitch with an ax to grind. I didn't touch her!"
"I believe you, Boone. Trust me, I do. But . . . right now, Charity is fielding calls from dozens of people wanting details. You're a role model for a lot of kids, and when word travels about this, your reputation is going to take a huge hit. The best thing is to find something to divert the attention while we sort this out." He pauses before leaning forward on his desk. "Have you considered the possibility of reconciling with Amber? People loved seeing you together. It was a fairy tale they could get behind."
I can't believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Instead of the press thinking I'm a woman beater, you want them to think I'm a doormat who lets his girlfriend marry and fuck another guy before taking her back?"
"Look, I know it sounds bad, but-"
"No. Not fucking happening, and if you suggest it again, we're done. Now I gotta get my financial manager on the phone and make sure he wires Amber's account with whatever she laid out for my bond. Unless you've got something useful to say, I'm gonna go wait in another office for my ride."
7
Ripley
I've trolled way more gossip sites in the last hour and a half than I'll ever admit, torturing myself by reading articles about Amber and Boone being back together.