Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(74)
They’d tell me where I could find him, and I would give them a few pictures they were after. The day after I put that out, I got a call from one of them letting me know Darryl was eating at a popular Italian restaurant in West LA. I showed up there with an old friend of mine, Jessica. She was the kind of friend I used to take on group dates, one of the girls my sister couldn’t stand, but she was also always down for whatever, whenever, wherever. As soon as she heard there would be paparazzi there, she agreed. She owned a hair salon, so I assumed she thought it would be good for business. I figured as soon as they got pictures of Jess and me hooking up, they’d move on and bury the story about Nicole and me. Who liked old news anyway? Jess and I played it up outside, holding hands, kissing right outside the restaurant, laughing at some stupid comment she made about possibly having gum under her shoe but not being able to bend down because of her short dress, and basically doing shit people who went on dates did. I hated every second of it. Her lips felt wrong against mine. Her hand felt wrong when I held it. It was just . . . wrong. I hadn’t even thought about giving Nicole a heads-up about the photos, but I hoped she never saw them, and if she did, I hoped she had enough sense to know it was all for show and that I’d done it with her best interest in mind.
From my seat I had the perfect view of Darryl’s table. He was there with a known actress and a couple of her friends. When I saw him get out of his seat and head to the bathroom, I excused myself and did the same. When I got back there, my friend Sergio, one of the waiters, handed me a pair of gloves and I asked him to block the entrance of the bathroom with a sign. I waited for the other man in there to walk out and put the gloves on before turning around and locking the door when I walked in. Darryl did a double take when he saw me.
“You know what I appreciate about you, Darryl? That you stay true to yourself,” I started. I took a baseball out of the pocket of my jacket and started throwing it up and catching it softly. “I don’t know if you know this, I’m sure you do because it seems you’ve taken a liking toward me.” I raised an eyebrow. “And I’m flattered, though I don’t bat for that team.” I shook my head. “Before I got into divorce, I practiced criminal law. It only lasted about two years.” I tilted my head as I thought about it. “But in those two years I earned the trust of a lot of criminals. People you wouldn’t think I’d know. I don’t have to tell you how shady people can be, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the lengths people go through to make sure they stay out of jail.” I paused for dramatic affect. His eyes were a little wider now as he looked at the ball I was throwing up.
“Where did . . . is that my . . .” he started, frowning as he looked at the ball in my hand, recognizing it from his home office, where it was taken from.
“So this is what you’re going to do next,” I said. He looked more concerned about the ball than he did scared, and that was fine. I didn’t want him scared. Scared people went to the cops. Nervous people went to bed with their secrets.
“You’re going to pull whatever photographers you have following me and Nicole, and you’re going to give me their names. That’s all you have to worry about. I’ll make it all go away.”
Darryl scoffed, pushing his oversized glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “In exchange for what?”
“In exchange for me not having some old friends of mine who owe me some really big favors pay you a visit.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he said, his voice firm. I knew he was calling my bluff. I knew he was probably thinking that a clean-cut guy like me was ruthless in the courtroom, but the courtroom and real life were two completely separate things. I appreciated that seed of doubt. I kept calm until he started screaming.
“Nicole is nothing. Nobody cares about her. Fuck you. You’re just mad because she’s still hung up on her ex. And guess what? She will be forever because you’re not a multi-million-dollar earning actor,” he said, his face turning red. “And if you want juicy pictures, I can show you the ones of her and her new boyfriend. Those make your balcony pictures look like a walk in the f*cking park.”
I breathed one more time, but the burn of fire inside me was stronger than the breaths I took. Finally, I pitched the ball, the way I did when I played baseball with the guys the seldom times we were all free. I pitched it so that it hit the mirror beside him and shattered it, the pieces flinging off it and going in every direction. One nipped me in the side of my face. I felt the sting, but not enough to care.
“You’re a f*cking lunatic,” he screamed, holding on to his head. “Security!”
I stood, arms crossed, waiting for the security I knew wouldn’t come, as he kicked the glass on the floor, his eyes wild, glasses falling, head turning in every which direction as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. Finally, his eyes landed on the ball. He gaped at it as he lifted it out of the sink.
“Where the hell—?” He looked up at me. “Is this from my house? You were in my house?” he yelled.
“I would never step foot in your personal property,” I answered calmly, feeling much better after my outburst. I hadn’t. I hadn’t been to his house or made the call for the guys to go there. I’d been very calculated with my orders and made sure nothing could be traced back to me.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he demanded. I smirked. I’d been waiting for that question.