Page 77 of Taming Her Temptations

“Listen,” he says. “I don’t think space has been bad for her. I think it’s been really good. But let’s not forget that Greenfield is the only home she’s ever known. And I think she also needs to know that she can come back to it if she wants.”

“What are you saying?” I ask.

“I’m saying, let her make the choice on her own what she wants to do. But make sure she has the choice.” Mr. Rivers folds the paper. “Right now, I think she’s avoiding this town. And you three are a big reason for that.”

“She won’t pick up our calls,” I remind him.

“You’re smart boys, you’ll figure it out.” He stands up. “And well, if you don’t, then don’t bother coming over anymore.”

“What?” Dean says, panic lacing his voice.

“I don’t come over to your house interrupting your creative process,” he lifts his finger at us. “I won’t enable this any longer. If you care about her, you’ll come up with something. And if you don’t, then you’re no longer my problem.”

I push my chair out as I get up. He’s right. This has gone on for too damn long.

I walk over to the man and his eyes go big as I hug him. I never really had a dad growing up. I had a man who came in and out of our lives when he pleased and would sometimes make sure we were fed. Mr. Rivers is nothing like that. He’s a good man. And in this moment, I feel nothing but grateful for him.

I can tell he’s surprised by my embrace, but he brings his arm up and pats my back.

“It will all work out how it’s meant to,” he says to me. “Until then, get the hell out.”

I laugh and take a step back.

“Alright, guys,” I say. “We’ve got some planning to do.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ruby

I think it’s fair to say Los Angeles and I have a love-hate relationship. On the one hand, I’ve loved getting close with Blaire. After staying at her house for a couple of days while I waited for my replacement cards, she invited me to stay in her guest house long-term and refused to take more than twenty-five dollars a month for rent. She claims it’s fair because it’s more money than she’s ever made off the guest house before. She’s got a great sense of humor and when her schedule isn’t absolutely insane, which it often is, we have long sessions by the pool chatting.

That’s the love part. Oh, and the weather. A lot of what’s left is the hate part. Getting a job in this town was possibly the most degrading experience of my life. Actually, scratch that. The most degrading moment of my life will probably always be wiping the hair-filled cream off my legs while under arrest and half-naked, but I’m still trying to erase that from my memory forever, so I don’t count it.

In the end, I’ve managed to get a lot of odds-and-ends types of jobs. I’ve nannied, cleaned hotels, served as a cocktail waitress for events where I’m about a decade older than all of the other cocktail waitresses, and even been an extra in a horror movie. Blaire has offered to get me jobs on her film sets, but I refuse to take any steps up in the world that I don’t deserve.

But on the bright side, recently I found a part-time job giving tours of old houses rumored to be haunted. It’s ridiculously fun and the kind of thing that I would have looked down upon only a few months ago. And I would have missed out. It also lets me practice not giving two-flying fucks about what people think which I’m getting pretty good at.

I walk up to the entrance of Blaire’s house and open the door. It’s open tonight because she’s throwing a party, which she tends to do about once a month. I had to work a late shift nannying, so the party is already in full swing.

I head down to the pool where all of the action is happening. A DJ is playing Miley Cyrus and the lights of Los Angeles make it look like the stars have fallen on the ground in front of us but continue to glow. I used to scan faces for celebrities when Blaire had parties, but I’ve stopped doing that because it’s like counting flies on a garbage: plentiful and useless. The one face I am looking for though, Blaire’s, can’t be found anywhere.

I walk along the pool toward the guesthouse where I’ve been staying. I’ll change my clothes and then continue my search for her.

I rummage in my purse for my keys, but a voice makes me look up.

“Late night working?” A man whom I’ve met a few times approaches me. He goes by Mika Plymouth as a stage name, but everyone who knows him calls him Mike. He’s a classically handsome guy who’s been casted in a few big films recently. And for some reason, he likes to flirt with me at these parties.

And I try. I really, truly try to flirt back. He seems perfectly nice and even charming. He’s more famous and beloved than I’ll ever be, and if anything, he’s way out of my league. But every time I talk to him, all I can do is compare him to Dean, Levi, and Asher. And in all ways, he comes up short. At least for me. I’m sure he’ll make some girl very happy one day. But for me, it’s a chore to talk to him.

“Late night,” I nod with a faint smile. “Have you seen Blaire around?”

“I think she went in there,” he points to the guest house.

“Great. Thanks, Mike.” I nod.

“Meet me back here for a drink?” He asks.

“Uh,” I look around, buying myself some time. “Can’t make any promises but I’ll try.” I wave goodbye.

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