Her voice faded. Madison Brooks had just walked up to the counter and was placing her order.
She’d heard Madison worked out at a nearby gym and often dropped in for a post-workout caffeine hit. Luckily, Layla’s decision to change her writing venue and hang around long enough to down three lattes had paid off. It was better than joining the gym and stalking her in a spin class.
“I gotta go,” she mumbled, ending the call as she stared at the back of Madison’s head, knowing she had to act fast.
So far, no one had been able to secure her as a get, mostly because she was so hard to reach. But as Layla watched Madison wait for her order, minus the usual entourage, bodyguards, and overall fuss that usually surrounded her, there was a good chance Layla might change all of that.
She shoved her laptop into her bag and pushed away from the table, watching as the barista called, “Iced skinny latte for Della!” and handed the drink to Madison as though she had no idea who her customer was.
Clutching the drink in one hand, and her wallet and keys in the other, Madison struggled to shoulder the door open as Layla jumped in to help her.
“Here, I got it,” she said, as Madison shot her a cautious look. Her eyes widened in recognition—surprise?—Layla couldn’t be sure. “Um—I couldn’t help but hear her call you Della.” Layla raced to catch up as Madison darted down the sidewalk. “But you’re Madison, right? Madison Brooks?”
Madison shook her head, muttered something unintelligible under her breath.
“I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to be noticed. I totally get it. It’s just that—” Layla took a deep breath, struggled to keep pace. “I’m a huge fan,” she lied, surprised when Madison stopped and fixed those bright violet eyes right on hers.
“Are you?” she asked, as though she knew better.
Layla watched as a yellow Lab trotted past, pulling a kid with matching hair riding a skateboard with a surfboard tucked under his arm. “Well, yeah.” She cringed, knowing she didn’t sound one bit convincing. Desperate to cover the flub, she said, “And I wanted to invite you to a party.”
Madison shook her head, spun on her heel, and stormed down the street.
“Nothing creepy, I swear,” Layla said, which only made it sound even creepier. God, she was totally blowing this. Why was she so freaking inept? “It’s at Ira’s. Ira Redman’s.”
Madison turned to face her. “If Ira wants to invite me to a party, he knows how to reach me.”
Layla raised her hands in surrender. They’d gotten off to a bad start and she wanted, needed, to fix it before it got any worse. “Not at Ira’s—at Jewel. One of Ira’s clubs. I’m a promoter, and—”
Madison whirled on her, looking extremely annoyed. “Trust me, I know who you are. You’re a small-time blogger who makes a living trashing celebrities.” Her voice was raised. People were starting to gather.
“That’s not true!” Layla called as Madison started moving again, racing past a succession of parking meters and palm trees, the usual LA landscape. “Well, maybe it’s partly true, but—”
“Look—you need to back off!” Madison swung around just as Layla tripped over an uneven slab of sidewalk, spilling what remained of her coffee down the front of Madison’s white tank top.
“What the—” Madison stared down at the mess, then back at Layla, her violet eyes wide, her expression a mixture of disbelief and outrage.
“I’m so sorry— I—” Layla came at her with a crumbled napkin, wanting to help sop up the stain, but someone had already alerted security to the poor A-list celebrity being harassed by the crazy girl who wouldn’t back off.
“There a problem here?” A big brick of a cop stepped out of a storefront and inserted himself right between them.
“What? No!” Layla cried.
At the same time, Madison claimed, “Yes.
She’s been following me for blocks. Won’t leave me alone. And when I asked her to back off, she tossed her coffee on me.”
The cop looked between the evidence dripping down the front of Madison’s top, to the empty coffee cup in Layla’s shaking hand.
“This true?”
“I wasn’t stalking her!”
“Who said anything about stalking?” His eyes narrowed, as Layla shook her head and clamped her lips shut, refusing to say anything that might further incriminate her.
“You want to file a report?” The cop looked at Madison.
“Definitely.” She turned those widened eyes on his, as she clutched her hand to her heart like she somehow feared for her life. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”