“Thank you,” Hope said, sliding the straw from its wrapper.
Without looking up, Paris muttered, “You’re welcome,” and walked away.
Pathetic, Hope thought as she watched the waitress move behind the counter and empty ashtrays. That was how she’d thought of Paris that first day. Now she understood a little bit better. Loving Dylan Taber wasn’t an easy thing to get over. Especially when she didn’t know if it was really over. She was in limbo, her heart not quite broken. Not yet. She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff and Dylan was the only one who could pull her back.
She stuck her straw into the shake and sucked up a big dose of chocolate ice cream. She’d placed her heart in his hands, and it was up to him to decide what he would do with it now.
Paris returned with Hope’s meal and tore the ticket from the little green book she kept in her apron pocket.
“Is there anything else you’re needin‘?” she asked as she plunked the ticket on the table.
“I don’t think so.” Everything appeared just as she’d ordered it. “Thanks.”
“Uh-huh.” Again Paris didn’t even look at Hope before she walked away.
Hope didn’t know what she’d ever done to the waitress, but it must have been a major offense. She poured ketchup onto her plate and dipped a few fries. They were hot and greasy and not quite as wonderful as she’d expected. She smeared extra mayonnaise on her cheeseburger. It wasn’t as wonderful, either, but she suspected it wasn’t the fault of the food. It was her mood. She wanted comfort, but food wasn’t going to be the answer.
Out of the corner of her eye a glimpse of red caught her attention and she glanced up at the woman standing by her table. She lifted her gaze up Ralph Lauren jeans and a red silk tank, but even with the brown chin-length wig and dark sunglasses, Hope immediately recognized Juliette Bancroft.
“If you don’t want to draw attention,” Hope said, “lose the sunglasses.”
Without asking if she wanted company, Juliette slid into the seat across from Hope. “Have you called Mike Walker?” she asked, referring to The National Enquirer’s infamous reporter. She reached for her sunglasses and tucked them into her purse.
“I told you, I don’t work for The National Enquirer.”
“I know. You work for The Weekly News of the Universe, which, the last time I checked, had a gossip section.”
“True.” Hope paused and ate a few more fries. “But we don’t pay reporters to look through your trash. Everything you read in our Hollywood gossip section is pretty much old news.”
Juliette grabbed a menu. “I’ve already talked to my agent,” she said as she looked it over. “He’s spoken with my publicist, who will issue a standard ‘No comment’ to the press until we feel the time is right for a statement.” She flipped the menu to the back.
“No one will hear a word from me.”
Juliette glanced up. “Because of Dylan?”
“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “But even if I felt nothing for Dylan, I would never hurt Adam.”
“Dylan and I have talked to Adam, and I think he’ll be okay. I’m the one who will be hurt the most if the story gets out,” Juliette said.
“And me,” Hope added. “Dylan would never forgive me if he read the story in a tabloid.”
Paris set a glass of water on the table. “What can I get for you?” she asked.
“Is this bottled water?” Juliette wanted to know.
“Straight from the tap.”
Juliette pushed it aside. “Do you have anything low-cal?”
“Salad,” Paris answered.
“Fine. I’ll have a chicken salad with vinaigrette dressing.”
“Don’t have vinaigrette.”
“Then give me Thousand Island, but put it on the side. And I’ll have a Diet Coke, lots of ice.”
“Do you want that ice on the side?”