Page 37 of Fool's Gold

“Oh, not Miss Stone,” Sherry clarifies.“The blonde bitch with balls bigger than yours.”

My stomach gives a single spike. I should have known.

“If she gave you any trouble, then—” I start.

“Don’t waste your time making threats you have no power to follow through on,” Sherry interrupts. “I’m calling to make sure you’re okay. We both know you can’t survive a week without me.”

I scoff and take a sip of scotch. “It hasn’t been a week yet.”

“Which is why I’m checking in now rather than waiting until you fall apart.”

Sherry’s dry tone and ire are exactly what I need to smooth out the wrinkles. The booze helps, too.

It burns in the most delicious way but does nothing to temper the anger and frustration still bubbling up inside me as constant as a heartbeat. “Your worry is misplaced. And sadly, you’ll be seeing more of Blonde Bitch until I can find a way to get rid of her. For right now, it’s in both of our best interests to play nice.”

Sherry doesn’t know anything about my old life, but she’s observant enough to know when something fishy is going on. She’s also smart enough to understand she needs to keep her mouth shut. Which she has done many times, most often with Empire.

“I figured as much.” Only Sherry could manage to sound put out and annoyed as well as concerned in the same breath. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. Say the word.”

“Lay low for a little bit. If Celeste told you to take some time off, then do it. Go visit your mom in Guam for all I care.”

It sounds like a fucking terrible joke, but it’s true. I’d rather have Sherry out of the country than in harm’s way. She’s not a target. Empire is. They’re the only two people I gave a shit about, and one of them is shackled to me.

“Heard.” Sherry knows the ropes at this point and won’t argue.

Good help is hard to find.

Help that keeps her nose in place and where it belongs, that doesn’t ask questions and is willing to do whatever is necessary. Sherry is a rare gem, and hearing from her loosens a bit of tension I hadn’t been aware of carrying in my shoulders.

“Take off as soon as possible,” I add.

“And what about her?”

“I’ll deal with Blonde Bitch. Stop worrying about me.”

“I mean Empire this time.”

I can’t fucking keep up. My head is spinning, and it has nothing to do with the liquor. “Let me handle our starlet. Everything is going to be okay; there’s no need for you to worry.”

“Of course I worry. With everything going on in the papers, you’re causing quite a stir. Not all press is good press, Marcus. You know this better than anyone else.”

You’re telling me. “Drop it, Sherry. And get out of town.”

She chuckles. “Fine. Be good,” she says, her kind of send-off, and then she hangs up on me.

It’s a small measure of relief to hear from her but not nearly enough for overwhelming confidence in my next steps. Which spell disaster for everyone if I fumble.

Maintaining control and doing it with ego, whether real or perceived, is the key to getting us out of this. And although every step I take hurts Empire more, I’ll make my apologies when we’re clear. When we’ve crossed over the finish line and she’s safe.

Apologize, then get the fuck out of her life. Because she’ll never be safe as long as I’m around.

I down the last of the scotch and stare at the empty bottle. Not even enough dregs at the bottom to cause a buzz.

Sleep is impossible, and before the sun rises in the morning, I’m out of bed. My feet land hard on the cold carpet, the air conditioner blasting and keeping the room at Arctic temperatures.

Empire still hasn’t fucking responded to my message.

I curl my fist around my cell, debating throwing it across the room. Everyone has a six a.m. deadline to get to set. If she’s not there, then it will be my pleasure to drive to River’s place and drag Empire, kicking and screaming and sexy as sin, back to set.

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