“So.” I lick my lips. “I told you that…” I trail off, looking anywhere but at Locke. He grips my chin gently, drawing my eyes back to him.
“You’re mine now, Sadie.”
I kiss him. Locke is a good man. A normal one too. I fear my world will become too much for him. My mom always said I was hard to love.
I think Locke is easy to love. He must be because I’m already falling.
Chapter Fourteen
Sawyer
During lunch, Charlie texts that he’s sorry for canceling, but that there was a change of plans. Because of a conflict, the interview is moved to one of the bungalows at Chateau Marmont. I opt to drive over and leave the other two men behind given that the hotel is a public place, and the hotel has its own security.
“What kind of car is this?” Sadie asks.
“Prototype. A friend of mine is working on a new electric car and is asking me to test it out.” I pat the leather console.
“It’s so fancy.” She smooths a hand across the buttery, hand-stitched leather. “And it looks like a spaceship inside.”
There are thin LED light strips that run along the headliner of the sedan, and the instrumentation does look more like a jet than a car. “It goes 0 to 60 in three seconds and has a max speed of 170 miles per hour. Too bad we can’t do that in a city.”
“I didn’t realize you were a car enthusiast.”
I navigate the traffic with ease. It’s light today which means it’ll only take an hour to get to Marmont instead of two. The worst part about LA is the traffic. A lot of celebs used to travel via helicopter but the closest helipad to the Marmont is the Beverly Hills Sofitel which is currently closed because of noise complaints. I don’t mind. The time spent with Sadie is nice. She cues up a playlist, kicks off her shoes, and curls up on the luxurious seat. We talk about how she doesn’t have a license. She fills the rest of the time by entertaining me with stories about her acting mistakes, which I find endearing. No wonder people love her.
The crowd at Marmont isn’t heavy midday. A famous pop star is day drinking with his actress girlfriend scrolling through her phone. The rumor is that it’s a made-for-press relationship, and from the disinterest on both their faces, I’d guess that was accurate. The breakout teenage star of a viral streaming series is in a semi-heated discussion with her momager.
We check in and are directed to Bungalow 5, but when we arrive, no one is there. The reserved hotel suite is empty. There’s no signs of a camera crew, hairdressers, makeup artists, or managers.
“I’m sure this is the right place.” Sadie doublechecks her messages.
“Shouldn’t Blake be here?”
“I know. I guess he’s mad at me.” Sadie bites her lower lip.
“Even so, a professional shows up to work even if they don’t like their working conditions.” He’s her manager, and he’s still getting paid, which means he should be doing whatever shit it is that managers do.
“Let me text Charlie again.” A moment later, she frowns. “He’s not answering me.”
“Call him.”
She makes a face. “No one makes calls anymore. It’s texts and DMs. Phone calls are last century, Locke.” But she dials anyway.
As she waits for Charlie to pick up, I poke around the cottage. The refrigerator is bare except for five water bottles. Nothing in the cupboards either. The drawers have some pots and pans that don’t look like they’ve been used since the last century, as Sadie would put it.
“Anything?”
“No. I’m going to call Blake and then we should leave.”
But her phone rings before she can make the call. The loud voice of Blake sails into the air even without the speakerphone function activated.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“The Marmont.”
“The hell? You skipped an interview with the biggest outlet in France to fuck your bodyguard at the Marmont? Are you on drugs? Is that what is going on? You’re going into rehab stat.”
“I’m not having sex. I’m here for the interview. Charlie texted me that it had been changed to here.”
“Charlie? Charlie is in the interview covering for your careless ass. He’s explained that you got sick over lunch with some bad seafood. This is the first chance I’ve had to step away from the gigantic mess you made!”
Sadie’s face grows pale. “Blake, I’m serious. I can show you the texts.”
“I’ve had enough out of you. No wonder you had your mom manage you. No one else would handle your flaky ass. I was warned about you, but I thought, no, I could handle a mess like you, but I was wrong. You don’t need to fire me, honey. I’m done. You’re fired.”
I grab Sadie’s phone before it slips out of her slack fingers. She’s been stunned into silence. I direct her to the sofa and sit her down, laying a blanket over her cold legs. “I’ll talk to Blake and show him the proof. We’ve got the texts.”