Manaconda 2: The Second Coming(15)

“Read the article. They think you’ve got the magic touch for healthy relationships in Hollywood.”

I forced myself to breathe. The words swam into focus. According to sources I’d put out various fires and showed just how perfect a couple we could be. And perhaps my services would be better suited to romance than single clients. Obviously I had the magic touch.

Were the writers high?

Bethany was frothing at the mouth as she explained all the upcoming parties she had with Justin. And I slowly started to see the appeal.

Then I started to plan.

By the time I got up to leave Justin and Bethany had an entire schedule of events that maximized their strengths as a couple and when they had to be apart. It was scary easy for me to juggle their calendars. I’d always been good at multi-tasking. It was why I was able to juggle so many clients.

They both walked me to the door, their Morkie puppies—rescues from the benefit last week, of course—scampered after us. Bethany scooped up her little guy and buried her face in his hair. “It was meant to be from the moment we were in the same room with the dogs.”

“I’m happy for you Bethany.” I scratched her teacup sized terrier’s little head. “And you too, Cookie.”

Justin tucked his dog into his sweatshirt. She flipped and struggled until her little face peeked up from the zipper. “Thank you, Kennedy.”

“You’re welcome. Make sure you contact Courtney at Love & Paws. They’ll make sure you guys are in the next promo piece. Then I’ll have it forwarded to your social media pages. Good cause and good press for the both of you.”

You need it was the unsung phrase after that, but I didn’t need to burst any bubbles.

“Perfect. I’m going to tell everyone I know how amazing you are—especially with the couple stuff. Me and Jus have done nothing but ruin relationships in the past.”

“Yeah, our careers are important, but we need time together. I don’t want to lose her.” He wrapped his other arm around Bethany. “You really helped out a lot.”

I didn’t really want to like the kid, but I knew all too well how the press could turn situations and things said out of context into a nightmare for just about anyone. He didn’t seem like such a jerk now that I’d sat with them for an hour.

“Thanks. Have a good night, guys.” I took her stairs down to street level and looked back. They were still in the doorway, the perfect young couple inside a house perfect for a family of their size.

Bethany was a sweet kid, but she was the definition of high maintenance. Between the both of them it was probably going to be a disaster, but they certainly seemed happy.

I knew how easily the happy could turn to disaster, but maybe they’d be one of the lucky ones. And just like that, Hunter was back in my head. My skin actually buzzed at the thought of him. Especially that day in San Francisco.

I needed to get those memories back under control. I snapped on my Sirius channel and scanned through for anything to listen to. “Cathedrals” blared out of my speakers.

“Really?” I asked the radio.

Like it was going to answer me back. I tried to turn it off. Truly. My hand even reached to do so. Hell, I had controls on my steering wheel. But I couldn’t. I remembered the way he sang this song to the crowd. The moody start, the growling finish on his knees, and all the prowling movements in between.

Hunter was born for the stage.

His timing was flawless, and his animal-like grace was mesmerizing. Everything about him had been a seduction. And I’d fallen for it. An Everest level fall I might add.

The announcer on the channel came on after the song. “Last night Hammered was in the BBC One studios and we got a hold of the performance. Their new single, ‘Crossing My Line’ been shooting up the charts. This is a stripped down acoustic version. Enjoy.”

I merged onto the highway, heading for Brentwood. The lyrics were rough with disillusionment and misery. Was this song about her?

About Victoria?

I curled my fingers tighter around my steering wheel. I’d been driving myself mad thinking about the ways that she’d hurt him. It was hard enough to walk away from him after a week. I couldn’t imagine a year.

If I cared so much now, I’d be doubly screwed after a few months.

It was much better to cut it off now. I wouldn’t allow myself to be like my mother. I’d watched her light up like a Christmas tree when my father came to visit. Smiles and hope shining in her eyes. All too often he’d call at the last minute. “Can’t make it, Rhi. You understand, right?”

He didn’t see her afterward.

He didn’t hear her crying in the deepest, darkest part of the night once her shift was over. Three in the morning, I’d find her curled into her bed, stage makeup still on, smearing her pillow and cheeks.