Page 8 of Beyond the Bright Lights

“Do you mean paparazzi?” I ask, deadpan.

“—and the entire project was in danger of being delayed or canceled after one of the lead actors had to drop out for a family thing.”

“Okay, but what movie?” Ginger asks, elbow on the bar, chin in palm.

My stomach drops to my feet as I begin piecing it all together. Cara Calloway is not only the Gossip Queen of Silo Springs, she’s also a Drama Dog. She loves to start shit and roll around in it until she’s dirty and rank.

"Well,” she begins while offering me the bitchiest of smiles that I’m tempted to reach across the bar and slap off her face. “It’s based on a best-selling book—”

Cara’s words are cut off with a gasp from Ginger. Every person sitting or standing in our vicinity stops speaking, all eyes on me.

Ginger starts for me, but I hold up a finger.

“Say the name of the movie, Cara.” I spit out the words with venom. She did this on purpose. She barged into my bar, excited and voice raised to grab everyone’s attention, just so she could watch my reaction.

Drama. Dog.

“Tyler’s Team,” she answers, chin high. Cara, a glutton for scandal, feeds off the awkward air, and keeps rambling. “And get this, Mylan Andrews has been cast in one of the roles.”

Mylan?

He wasn’t lying. He really is a celebrity. Bruno must be his bodyguard. He’s big enough. That must have been what he meant by ‘on the job.’

I swing my head to where they’re sitting, both overhearing this entire exchange. Mylan's dark demeanor is gone, replaced with hesitation. They’re on alert. I understand now why they chose to sit in that corner. They’re hiding from everyone because he’s famous, and his cover is moments away from being blown.

“Mylan Andrews? The actor who’s constantly in rehab?” Ginger’s tiny nose scrunches. “Isn’t he there now?”

Mylan winces at Ginger’s comment, his hands tightening around the empty glass. His third drink, all within minutes of him being here.

Cara keeps talking. “Yeah, well, I hear he's out, so. What does it matter? He’s hotter than Hades, and he’s going to be here. In our town!”

“He is pretty hot for a white boy,” Ginger laughs.

Great. They're feeding Mylan’s ego without knowing it. But instead of his head swelling five times bigger with every compliment like I expected, he lowers his eyes. He’s . . . shy? No, not him. He’s not the type. He’s ashamed.

Because he just got out of rehab and he’s at a bar drinking.

“What role, Cara?” I ask, jaw clenched. “What role has Mylan Andrews been cast to play?”

Cara crosses her arms over her tiny chest. She’s so fucking proud of herself. Bitch. “He’s the new lead. He’s going to be playing Tyler Taylor.”

“Great.” I turn enough to meet Mylan’s stare. He gulps, his throat bouncing. “I can’t wait to meet the actor who will be portraying my dead fiancé on the big screen.”

The blood drains from his face.

I shake my head and walk past Mylan, heading to the closest door, desperate to escape. The moment I’m within his reach, he gently grabs my elbow. I despise the way my body reacts to his touch.

“You’re . . . you’re Lana Young from the book?” he asks, voice low.

Instead of answering, I rip my arm out of his grip and keep walking. I can feel Mylan at my back, following. I’m about to turn around and beg him to leave me alone. I can’t do this right now.

One by one, gasps and squeals of excitement ripple through the air.

“Is that Mylan Andrews?” someone yells.

“Oh my god, that’s Mylan Andrews,” another confirms.

“He’s here already?”

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