Page 50 of Beyond the Bright Lights

“What are you two talking about?”

I roll my eyes and Eloise beams at my annoyance. She likes to push my buttons. Like a sister. She’s the closest thing to a sibling I’ve ever had. ‘Just keeping you humble, asshole,’ she says to me every chance she gets.

“Mylan is getting his balls manhandled by Miss Lana.”

I choke on my coffee, and it spills on the table. Eloise fake gags.

“Bruno, that’s not . . .” I shake my head and wipe up my mess with the pile of napkins Bruno brought with my breakfast. I sigh. “He means: Lana has me by the balls.”

Eloise fake gags again, which has Bruno laughing like a maniac. Eloise joins in and suddenly we’re all giggling like high school girls at a sleepover.

Not that I've ever been to a sleepover.

Our laughter dies down and Eloise winces.

“You okay?”

She rubs her side. “Yeah, I’m just sore from jumping, and swimming, and laughing yesterday. I’m sunburned too.”

My heart lurches because I can’t remember the last time Eloise looked so . . . happy. Being my assistant hasn’t been the easiest job. Eloise is such a private person to begin with and I'm honored to be one of the few people she's opened up to. She told me she’d once been hurt by someone she greatly cared about. I’m sure that’s why the moment I began falling back into my addiction, she rebuilt her walls and slowed down any attachment she may have been forming with me.

She stopped caring about me when I stopped caring about myself. That’s my theory, at least.

Then there’s Bruno. In public, he’s the intimidating bodyguard. When it’s just me and him and Eloise, he’s funny, always smiling, always positive. Then I messed it all up. After this last stint, there’s a shade of sadness that threatens his sunny demeanor.

Eloise cursing pulls me from my thoughts. “Don’t freak out.”

I straighten my back, my stomach dropping. “If you’re telling me not to freak out then I’m probably going to freak out.”

She grimaces at her phone. “The paparazzi found us at the lake. There are . . . pictures.”

“How bad is it?” I ask quietly.

“Lana putting lotion on you. You and her in the water, nearly kissing. The two of you laughing and flirting.”

“The headlines?”

Eloise gulps. “Is romance blossoming between Mylan Andrews and the real Lana Young?”

“That’s not too bad.”

“No, but the comments . . . the things people are saying about Lana . . .”

I bury my head in my hands, combing my fingers through my hair.

“Shit.” I sit there for a minute, thinking—panicking. Eloise doesn’t have to elaborate on what those social media comments say. Humans are vile, and they’ll criticize anyone who doesn’t fit the world’s unrealistic body and beauty standards.

Lana told me she hasn’t been reading comments on the articles posted about us. I don’t read them either. This is different, though, because before, we were working together professionally. Now people see that we’ve become more, and, like every celebrity, I have crazed fans. Fans who will send her death threats just for being in a personal relationship with me.

What will Lana think? We’ve been so careful up until now. Lana and my publicist have worked hard to control the photos and articles posted online. I knew it wouldn’t last. If the media smells a big story brewing, all bets are off.

I stand up. “I need to talk to Lana.”

It's ten thirty in the morning and Lilies doesn’t open for another half hour. The article with the pictures went live hours ago and word spread fast because the vultures are already hovering. A crowd of paparazzi is waiting on the sidewalk in front of the bar. It’s as close as they can get since the sidewalk is considered public property. They’ve been threatened with jail time the moment they step off the sidewalk and into the parking lot, which is private property.

The parking lot, which winds from the front of Lilies around the left side of the building and to the back, is empty except for Lana’s beat-up, light blue Volkswagen. My driver pulls around to the back to let me out, out of sight of the paparazzi. I’m sure they’re hiding in the field behind the bar (despite that also being private property). It’s the only part not contained by a fence.

Up until now, we’ve explained that I’m visiting Lana to work on Tyler’s character. Now? Now they know it’s more than that. I hop out of the car, leaving Bruno behind. Eloise stayed at the hotel, waiting on my call about how to move forward.

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