Wardrobe Malfunction(77)

And, now, Vaughn is gone. Took the car from Aiden, and I don’t know where he is or how to reach him because his phone is still off.

But I do know one thing. I have to speak to him again. I have to tell him the whole story. Even if he doesn’t forgive me, he needs to know that I didn’t betray him in the way he thinks I did.

And that I’m sorry.

And that I love him.





Vaughn


I take the elevator straight down to the parking garage. If Aiden’s not there, then I’ll go out on the street and get a cab if I have to. I just need to get the fuck out of here.

When I exit the elevator, I see Aiden standing by the car, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

He looks up at my approach. “Jack wants to talk to you.” He holds the phone out to me.

I take the phone from him and disconnect the call. Then, I hand the phone back to him.

“Key,” I tell him.

He doesn’t seem surprised that I want to leave.

He knew. Everyone knew. Everyone, except for me. Yet again.

Vaughn West, the dumbest fuck on the planet.

God, the press must be laughing their asses off at me right now.

My hurt and anger burn even hotter. “Give me the fucking car key, Aiden.”

“Jack won’t like this.”

“I don’t give a fuck whether Jack likes it or not. And Jack doesn’t pay your wages. I do.”

Aiden hands me the key. I get in the car, slam the door shut, turn the engine on, and squeal out of there.

I hit the street. Not knowing where I’m going or what the hell to do with myself.

I can’t fucking believe this. She’s married. Married! All this time, and she never said a word. How could she do this to me?

I’m so fucking stupid. First, Cain and Piper. Now, Charly.

I must have Dumb Fuck written on my forehead.

I took her to my home. Introduced her to my family. I let her in my bed. I fell in love with her.

And, all that time, she was married.

“Fuck!” I slam my hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Breathing heavily, I grip the wheel tight with both hands, trying to get a handle on my emotions.

How could she look me in the face and lie to me like that? Was she fucking me and then climbing out of my bed and calling him up? Telling him she loved him?

Because she sure as fuck doesn’t love me.

Jesus.

I don’t even know who her husband is. But I’m guessing he knows about me by now.

The whole world probably fucking knows.

Embarrassment covers me like a dirty black cloak.

I can’t stay in Vegas. I need to get away. I need to go back home.

I turn the car in the direction of US-95, heading north to Oregon.

Once I’m on the highway, I turn on the radio.

“And, in entertainment news today, pictures are circulating of Hollywood sensation Vaughn West, who has been caught in an intimate moment with a married woman. The woman has been identified as Charlotte Michaels, a wardrobe assistant on the set of West’s current film, The Lament.”

I reach out to turn it off when the sound of her husband’s name stops me.

“Ms. Michael’s husband, Nick Sharp, an interior designer, resides in New York with her. They’ve been married for four years. When approached, Mr. Sharp wouldn’t comment on if he had any knowledge of the relationship between his wife and Vaughn West. We reached out to West’s publicist, but we have yet to hear back.

“And, in other news, Patrick Dean is back in rehab—”

I turn the station off.

Nick Sharp.

She told me that Nick was her gay roommate, whom she’d known since college. God, she’s a better fucking liar than me, and I get paid to do it for a living.

My head feels like it’s going to explode. I can’t think about it anymore.

I need music to fill my head, but Aiden doesn’t have any CDs in here. I turn the radio back on, search through until I find a heavy metal station, and turn it up loud.



Twelve hours and two gas stop breaks later, I’m finally driving into Keno.

It’s late. I’m tired. And my fucking head aches.

If I’m being honest, everything aches. My heart especially.

At the last rest stop, I decided to charge my phone, using the charger that Aiden had left in here.

I know Jack and Alex have been trying to call me. There are missed calls and countless messages from both of them.

There are missed calls and messages from Charly, too. But I won’t listen to them.

I don’t want to talk to anyone, and I especially don’t want to talk to her.

What does she need to talk to me about? I think everything that needed to be said was said back at the hotel.

But I should call Jack. I know he’ll be worried about me.

I press Call on his number and wait for it to connect.

He answers on the first ring, “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m fine. I just need some time alone.”

I don’t tell him I’m home. Even though Jack’s never been here, I know he’d come charging down here and get me to go back to Vegas. And, right now, that’s the last place I want to be.

“You need to get your ass back here. I’ve got the press on the phone nonstop. Brandon’s freaking out. You’re supposed to be back on set tomorrow.”