Page 14 of Cat's Outta the Bag

"Alexis, my love, my light, you've broken the best friend code." Allison grabs my hand and weirdly pets the back of it as if trying to console me.

“Seriously, what are you talking about?”

All three look at each other, then turn back to me. And it’s in the split second before they open their mouths that I realize what they are talking about. This should be fun.

“When were you going to tell us you know Jason FUCKING Adams?" All three women manage to say it at the exact same time as if they were creepy triplets in a horror film. Honestly, they must have practiced; that was too perfect. So creepy.

I sigh. I should have known this would be coming. In fact, I probably should have said something in our group chat and gotten ahead of it all. Speaking of, why the hell haven't they said anything in the group chat? Those articles have been out for days!

"There's nothing really to tell, honestly. We met a couple of weeks ago. It's a long story, but now we're kind of friends? It's not a big deal, seriously."

There’s half a beat of silence before all three pounce.

“What do you mean there’s nothing to tell? It’s motherfucking Jason Adams!”

“Not a big deal? You have got to be kidding me!”

"You're in a tabloid article, for pity's sake, this is the definition of a big deal!”

They talk over each other so fast; it takes half a second for my brain to process what any of them even said. We’re getting stares from fellow clinicians and patients. I really don’t have time for this.

“Ok, ok, sheesh, don’t jump down my throat. I need to go see my last patient of my day and head home, you three,” I point accusingly, with what I hope is a stern doctor face, “need to start working. We can meet at my place tonight after your shifts and have an emergency girl’s night. I promise to tell you everything then.”

They all nod enthusiastically, then scatter to go do their jobs. Nique stops me before I head over to bed six, where my patient is waiting. “Alexis, when I say we want all the details, I mean we want all the nitty gritty, and I hope dirty details tonight. Capisce?”

"Prepare to be disappointed, but I won't leave anything important out. I promise."

The rest of my shift passes with no surprises, and I want nothing more than to get home and throw on comfy clothes and snuggle with Slinky. The girls will be over after eight to torture me with their questions, so I can't go complete slob mode when I get home.

On my way home, I stop at my local grocery store and have what might be the creepiest experience of my life. I'm in the pasta aisle, minding my own business when I hear something. Or maybe I see it out of the corner of my eye first, and my brain inserts the sound of a camera shutter. Either way, when I turn fully, I am met with the sight of two people taking my picture.

I open my mouth, not exactly sure what I'm going to say or do, but the second they see that I've noticed them, they bolt. Ten seconds later, the door to the store dings as they book it at light speed out of here. They knew exactly what they were doing. Then it occurs to me, what if they followed me in? Or try to follow me home? Goosebumps break out all over my body, and I feel a little ill. Is this what Jason feels like every time someone takes his picture?

My mind is racing as I check out and head home. I check my mirrors at least fifty times during the short drive, making sure I’m not being followed. I don’t even know what I’d do if I was.

By the time I reach my apartment, I feel like I'm going crazy. Without thinking, I call Jason while I scoop up Slinky and hold her close.

I get his voicemail, and leave an admittedly unhinged message, then spend the next hour snuggling my cat to death on my couch while trying to calm down. I knew this was a possibility when I met Jason. But I guess I naively thought that it would take longer to happen. We barely even know each other! Jason has only ever dated high profile women, most recently his long-time costar Vanessa Chase. I thought my “regular-ness” would protect me longer than it did, that the tabloids would ignore me because they would just assume we weren’t dating. I mean come on, why would the Jason Adams date a regular-ole ER doctor? We’re not even dating officially!

And it's not just the possibly public attention that has me worried. It's the fact that, at the moment, he is the only person I want to talk to. I'm seeking comfort from a man who might not even want to give it. And that is terrifying.

This is a Mess, capital M, and everything.

Hours later, I’ve showered and managed to relax a little. Laying on my floor with Slinky on my chest purring helped a lot. When my friends knock obnoxiously at my door, I feel like I can handle anything they throw at me.

So, when I open the door and see their big smiles, arms full of wine and food, I am not prepared for my response to be bursting into tears.

"Oh, sweety, we're here now."

That only makes me cry harder.

Chapter 12

Jason

"Fuck!" I lay on my horn as a red model T cuts me off. The driver sticks his hand out the window and flicks me off. Which makes my blood boil even hotter. I want to ram his car.

Today of all days, I just had to film on location, clear across L.A. from my apartment building. Not only that, but I am now stuck on the 101, trying desperately to get past this minor fender bender that has the entire freeway backed up for five miles.

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