A younger man approaches me. I have no clue who he is, but he pats me on the back like we’re old friends. Which means he wants something. “So, Stephen, what’s the latest project?”
“Hello.” I try for a normal introduction.
He laughs. “You know, if you’re looking for a good writer, I know a guy.”
“Would I recognize his name?”
His face changes slightly, falling a little, but he shrugs and takes a long drink. “Who knows anyone anymore?”
This is the kind of interaction that drives me crazy. The wannabes think if they pretended to know you, you’d just assume that you’d already met. They would land jobs over drunk agreements and ride coattails into the industry.
Normally, I’d play along and pretend to know him, smile, and give points with empty promises. Tonight, I’m not in the mood. “Right now, I’m between projects.”
“Really?”
“Still looking for that burst of inspiration to start something new.”
“Well, if you need inspiration, I’m your man.”
“Not your friend?”
“Forget him.” He puts his hand, with his glass, against my chest. “I have a script and ideas that I haven’t shared. You have to find the right person, you know?”
“Of course.” My voice is monotonous, and he’s too drunk to notice.
“And there’s a part that would be perfect for Olivia. The two of you have such…chemistry.” He chuckles at me with an obvious leer. “It would be a slam dunk.”
“You haven’t heard, then.” I lower my voice, as if it’s the juiciest gossip he’ll ever hear.
He leans closer, and I make sure I have a deadly expression. I don’t want this shit to continue. I don’t want people pushing me toward Olivia when it’s taking every ounce of control to stay away from her and let her live her life.
“We aren’t working together anymore. Olivia and I will not be doing any projects together in the future.”
He blinks at me a few times. The breakup has been all over the tabloids. No one has missed it. Bringing her up, pitching a project to me that involves her, proves how out of his depth he is. Better to learn with a harsh word than a punch to the face.
He’s probably too coked up to notice. I haven’t missed how often he’s rubbed his nose or sniffed. “Oh, really? Man, that’s too bad. I just assumed that since she was here…”
I arch an eyebrow. “What?”
“Yeah. I saw her a few seconds ago.” He shrugs. “Either she’s here with someone else or you two are keeping things quiet.”
“She’s here?” I repeat. I haven’t spotted her, and sure I haven’t moved much, but her crowd almost always finds its way to me. I swallow the growing bubble of bile in my throat. “Where?”
“Uh… Well, last time I saw her, she was on the other side.” He motions to the farthest of the three wings of the house. He wipes his nose. “But I didn’t tell you. I don’t want trouble.”
“It’s our secret,” I promise.
“Well, in case you don’t find her, maybe I was wrong.”
I like watching him backpedal. It may be sadistic, but it’s satisfying to see a social climber trip on a step and fall down a peg. I nod to him and look him dead in the eye. “If I find her, or if I don’t, we’re okay. Maybe I’ll remember you next time. A writer, yes?”
“Yeah.” He perks up a little, despite how pale he is. “I’m Ryan.”
“Good to meet you, Ryan.” I shake his hand, then immediately go in search of the one person I should run from.
But I’m an addict—a sick, despicable addict who can’t do what heshoulddo and I crave her like I crave life itself. I swallow as I walk, trying to memorize each face and keep track of the hundreds of people so I can find her.
The thought of seeing her again makes my head spin. It’s been at least two weeks since we last saw each other. And now, to see her here, at the worst kind of party, the kind I used to protect her from… There’s no way her father let her come here.