Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(16)

“I’ve seen how fast you work on those patterns. How’s the set of the new movie? How’s Austin?” she asked, her light brows rising provocatively. I laughed.

“If you’re asking me if he’s as hot as ever, the answer is yes. If you’re asking me if anything has happened between us, the answer is never has and never will.”

“Boring. Is it because of everything that went down with Gabe? Do you think you’re swearing off actors from now on?”

“Are you swearing off athletes?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Her past three boyfriends had been athletes, and all three had been cheating pigs.

“Touché.”

We talked some more, ate some edamame, and clinked our glasses in a cheer before she dropped the, “Let’s go to a club tonight!” and I was feeling tipsy enough to agree. We spent the rest of the time catching up and talking the way you can only talk to an old friend—loudly with obnoxious laughter and lots of pointing at each other whenever we remembered an old inside joke.

“That’s your new security detail?” Chrissy asked when Marcus walked around the car and handed the valet a tip.

“That’s him.”

“Maybe I should ride with you,” she said in a loud whisper. I laughed.

“Do it. Tell Frederick to follow us.”

She turned around and told her bodyguard to follow us as he shielded us from the cameras snapping pictures of us climbing into the car.

“How’s the filming going? Are you on break?” I asked.

“Yes. Thank God. My family is driving me absolutely crazy already,” she groaned. I laughed. Only Chrissy could make a reality TV show that paid her hundreds of thousands of dollars an episode sound as grueling as hard labor.

“Poor you,” I said, smirking.

“Seriously, Nicole. You look f*cking awesome. Are you dieting?” she asked, giving me a once-over as we sat beside each other.

“It’s called the divorce diet. You should try it. It works wonders, apparently.”

She scoffed. “That would require me getting married.”

“Although if he’s on the table, I may reconsider,” she said, nodding toward Marcus with a salacious grin on her face.

“Stop embarrassing him,” I said, trying to keep the laughter out of my voice.

“Marcus, who have you worked for?” Chrissy asked, ignoring me.

“That’s classified, ma’am,” he said, eyes flickering to the rearview. I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell he was smiling.

“Ex-military. Those are the only ones who always tell me their previous employers are classified, as if I can’t just make a few calls and find out,” Chrissy said, rolling her eyes. She tilted her head to look at me. “Those are always hot in bed, though. Marcus, we’re going to Lure.”

I laughed, feeling the alcohol swimming in my head. “You told him that.”

“Oh. That’s right. Have you been lately?”

“Nope. I’ve been staying out of the limelight, as per Dad’s orders.”

“We’re going to have so much fun,” she squealed.

By the time we got to Lure, there was a line circling the side of the building.

“Holy crap,” I said, eyes wide. Truthfully, I hadn’t been to a club in ages, so I’d forgotten about long lines and ID checks. That, and the last time I had gone was with Gabe and lines and ID checks didn’t exist when you were with an A-list celebrity.

“Drive to the back,” Chrissy instructed.

Marcus kept driving until we reached the corner, where he turned into the alley and slowed down when the mob of paparazzi perked up and spotted a newcomer. If we had any doubt as to where the back door was, we’d just found it.

“Oh God,” I muttered.

Even in my tipsy state I knew it meant our outing would be all over tonight’s TMZ, but then, any outing with Chrissy meant that, and I was okay with the dinner portion being in the tabloids. It was this part of the night that terrified me. I took a deep breath, perked my boobs up in my dress, and did a little mantra in my head to remind myself to suck in my stomach.

“You ready?” Chrissy asked when the car stopped in front of the mob of cameras, which had now turned toward us.

“I guess so.”

Her security opened the door for us, assisting us in climbing out of the car without flashing anybody and instantly, the questions started.

“Nicole, did you know Gabriel would be here tonight?”

Holy shit. Thank God the club was huge.

“Did you set up to meet him here?”

Breathe. Suck in your stomach. Smile. No. Don’t smile.

“Are you guys getting back together?”

Fuck. I smiled. Shit.

“Is the divorce off?”

Poker face.

“How do you feel about him dating his co-star?”

Poker face. Poker face. Poker face. If I said it enough I’d keep it, or become Lady Gaga. Either way was good with me.

Even though all I wanted was to scream all the answers, I kept my head down, because that’s what you do when you’re being bombarded with personal questions you have no answers to. The bouncer took one look at each of us and let us in without hesitation. That was another perk to having Chrissy in your squad. She had a face anybody from a tween to a geezer recognized. Because of the headlines, I was sure he recognized me as well, but I definitely wasn’t the reason he let me in, especially not if Gabe was really in there. We walked down a dark hallway toward the loud house music playing, but before we reached the dance floor, we were met by a waitress, wearing what looked like a bikini top and boy shorts.