The Redemption(48)

The waiter walks away in a hurry, eager to please. I’m sure everyone is eager to please Chad since he’s famous.

Chad leans his elbows on the table and says, “I’m glad you met me.”

“You mean met you as a person or here today? Ha!” I joke.

“Both.” He smiles. Holding the menu, he asks, “Have you been here before? It’s early, but I’m hungry. Are you?”

“I haven’t been here.” Looking around, I add, “I like it. And I can always eat.”

The bottle of champagne arrives and our glasses are filled as menus are set down in front of us and specials announced. When we’re alone, I lift my glass and ask, “So what are we celebrating?”

“Us. To us and finally cashing in that raincheck.” He’s a charmer all right. Our glasses tap together and we drink. As I’m setting mine down, he asks, “How have you been?”

“Good. Busy with life. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I head out next week—”

The waiter appears and asks, “Do you know what you’d like to order?”

Chad turns to him, but with a glance to me, he asks, “Rochelle?”

“I’ll have the Waldorf salad, light on the dressing.”

Chad orders plain grilled chicken and steamed veggies before turning his full attention back to me. “So as I was saying, I head out next week to start a project in Toronto.”

“Oh,” I remark, picking up my glass. I drink and listen as he talks about this movie for some indie director that he thinks could lead to an Oscar nomination for him. My mind wanders, remembering this is why I always got along with musicians better—they are less talk and more action.

My hand is grabbed and I look up at him. He says, “Okay?”

“What?” I ask, surprised. Busted for not listening. Oops.

His brow is furrowed as he pleads, “When she gets here, pretend to be my girlfriend. Okay?”

I realize I had not heard whatever led up to this question and thinking he realizes it too because he says, “This chick, she’s all over me all the time. She’ll come over here in a minute. Pretend to be my girlfriend. I’ve been trying to shake her for months.”

I feel bad for not paying attention and readily agree. “Oh. Sure. Okay.”

When he looks over my shoulder, he says, “She’s coming.” I start to look back, but he stops me. “Don’t look! Keep your eyes on me.”

“Chad, darling,” I hear over my right shoulder. “I didn’t know you were still in town. I would have called.”

Looking up, I recognize her as a popular LA socialite who lives to make tabloid headlines and not much else. He stands to greet her, effectively pulling me up with him. They European kiss—one on each cheek. She lingers and he tugs me closer. As she backs up, he wraps his arm around my waist and kisses me on the cheek. “Have you met Rochelle Floros?”

His arm snuggling me close doesn’t seem to faze her. Like Dex, maybe he just has a whole slew of f*ck buddies. She replies, “I don’t believe I have, but I’ve spent a lot of time in New York and Miami recently. I’m Dotty Greensberg.”

Dotty Greensberg? I stifle a laugh and offer a hand instead. “Nice to meet you.”

“Rochelle is my girlfriend,” Chad states confidently.

I remain quiet, trying to channel the fake girlfriend role I’ve been asked to play.

“Girlfriend?” she asks as if the word is foreign to her, a glare directed at him. “So this is a new relationship?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Well, it was good to see you, Dotty.”

The waiter walks up with our plates.

She gives her best smile trying to hide her heartbreak. It’s obvious she likes him, but I’ve learned that it takes two or someone always gets screwed. “Yes, I should go. I’m meeting my agent at the bar.”

Chad releases me and I sit down, the charade almost over. They polite kiss each other goodbye and he sits down smiling. Putting his napkin back in his lap, he says, “I think that went well.”

“Yeah, seemed like she believed you.” Believe. Believe. Charades… Dex. I drop my fork.

Chad asks, “What is it? Your salad?”

Was I set up? Dex wants me to believe he slept with Firenza. Maybe he didn’t… or maybe he did. If he didn’t, why would he want me to believe a lie? He tried to say something, but I cut him off.

“Rochelle?”

I look back up at Chad.

He says, “You keep disappearing. Am I that boring?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I just have a lot on my mind. I’m sorry.” Trying to keep my mind from reeling in conspiracy theories, I attempt to keep my attention on Chad.

“No problem. So how’s the band business?”

We fall into light conversation, easier than I expected it to be with him. But after spending time with him one-on-one, I have a feeling he doesn’t do deep conversation. He loves to talk fashion and gossip. I listen most of the time, not able to add too much to either of those topics. After we eat, I call it a day wanting to go home and think about things.

While waiting for our cars at the valet out front, I say, “Thank you for the meal and drinks.”

“Thank you for joining me. So I mentioned I’m leaving soon, next week in fact, but I have this party to go to on Sunday. Would you like to go with me?”