Page 158 of Movers and Shakers

“Amazing.”

“And the two of you are . . .‍”

“Still friends.”

“Are you sure?”

“How are you and Audrey?”

“Cold move, man,” Liam said. “But I can respect it. Once we figure out this new guest list thing, wewillcome for answers from you.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

There was a knock on the door and I knew my time was up. I told Liam and Audrey that I had to go and said my goodbyes.

“Yes?” I called.

“Please tell me you have clothes on,” Juno said through the door.

“Yes, of course. What’s up?”

“Blaze was a fuckhead again,” she said. “And now there’smoreinterest on Lila’s name. I’m going to get Lila since the paparazzi know where she is. Want to come along and be waiting in the car for her?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll get ready. Hey, do you know how to braid?”

“I started learning when I found out about Rose. Need help hiding your hair?”

“Yeah. One of these days, I’ll learn how to do it myself, but today is not the day.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lila

Ionce thought I would adjust to the lights and cameras, but I never did. And sometimes, after a long day of work, they just became too much.

I knew when I saw the crowd outside of Malia’s office that it was going to be a lot. I felt raw, both from her figuring out my secret and the way we had to go through every connectionsomeone could find. Talking about my double identity so openly wasn’t something I was used to. By the time I was done, I hoped the crowd had diminished to the point that I could dart to the car and get out of there.

No luck.

My usual armored car was waiting for me, and everyone knew exactly what that car meant. Juno was inside, anticipating a speedy getaway.

Another one of my security guards, hired by Malia, flanked me as I was led to the car.

It was a frenzy of lights and sounds. People called my name, they said Blaze’s name, and they even called me a whore to my face to get a reaction. LA paparazzi were of another breed, and it felt like they were sapping away all of my energy today.

At first, it was chaos that I could manage. But then as I neared the car, they upped the intensity.

One got too close, shoving my security guard so they could get a picture of my face showing any emotion. I jerked away, but my obvious fearful expression egged them on because now they had a photo they could sell.

My guard shouted, which meant nothing good for me, and I nearly fell against the car as I tried to escape. The guard pushed, and then someone yelled at him for stepping in. A new kind of chaos erupted behind me.

But then the door to the car opened and a hand—a lifeline—pulled me to safety. I looked up. Barry had gotten halfway out of the car and pulled me to him. He was in sunglasses and a hat, thankfully disguised, and I collapsed into his steady, warm weight.

He slammed the door behind me and everything was muffled by the car.

“Juno, can we get some privacy?” he asked.

I’d had a privacy glass installed long ago, back when I thought I might change in cars.

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