Was he jealous? I didn’t want to make eye contact with him. I shifted my chair, hoping I could ignore him. Pretty soon, he’d have his coffee and leave, right?
No such luck.
He stood by the counter, waiting for his drink, watching me the entire time.
“Boyfriend?” Charles asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Just someone from the set,” I said and gestured for him to continue. “What would you like to know?”
Charles pulled out his phone. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
“Go ahead.”
He opened an app and recorded an audio stream. “Thank you.” He appeared young, perhaps bright, but also like I was his first assignment. “You’re a long way from Hollywood,” I said, surprised he’d chased me down in Breckenridge.
Charles laughed under his breath. “Yeah.” He started his questions, asking me about the film, if I enjoyed the small town and what my dream role would be.
I kept my voice down to make sure it didn’t carry throughout the coffee shop. Other than Charles and Lincoln, no one else here knew who I was. At least no one else had paid me any special attention. It was nice to be a nobody. I couldn’t remember ever having that before.
“And one last question,” Charles said, “do you mind if we take a photograph or two outside? I’d love to have a picture to go along with the article.”
“How about you come to the set, and during lunch I’ll give you that photo?”
I didn’t want him snapping pictures of me without my hair and makeup done. I didn’t look my best, and the last thing I wanted was to be interviewed in a Hollywood magazine looking like I’d just rolled out of bed, which was pretty much what I’d done.
I sipped the last of my coffee and stood, walking over, dumping the empty cup into the trash. I pushed open the glass door and headed outside.
Charles followed after me, phone in hand. “It’s just one picture. We can always touch it up later,” Charles said.
He lifted his phone and began snapping photos, ignoring my request.
I held my hand up in front of my face.
Asshole.
I’d been naïve to think that he’d actually do what I’d asked. He was probably one of the jerks who had staked out my hotel the first night that I’d been in town.
“I said no!”
“The lady asked you to leave her alone,” Lincoln’s gruff voice answered. His heavy footfalls clomped from behind.
I didn’t need him to fight my battles, but he was quite a lot bigger and taller than Charles. Lincoln was every bit of a man.
“Fine!” Charles shoved his phone into his pocket. “I’m leaving. Already got the shot that I wanted anyhow.”
Lincoln snarled at the man and stomped closer. “Give me your phone.”
“No.” Charles’s bottom lip trembled.
Lincoln towered above Charles and grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt. “I wasn’t asking.”
* * *
I didn’t have time to deal with Charles or Lincoln, for that matter. Already I was running late, and after bailing yesterday, I needed to get to the set.
I hurried to my car, leaving the two of them to battle it out in the parking lot. I didn’t think Lincoln would actually assault the idiot with the Hollywood Chronicle, but if he did, I wasn’t going to intervene either.
Hightailing it out of the parking lot, I made a sharp left and hurried toward the set.
My foot was lead on the gas, and as I rounded a bend in the road, a car was stopped on the main drag.
I slammed my foot on the brake, but it took too long. I plowed into the small four-door sedan.
Metal crunched on metal.
Shit.