Page 76 of Endless Love

Duffy followed my gaze over to Gustave and Willow, both still the center of attention.

“That pompous, arrogant pansy?”

“You know him?”

“I wanted to interview him for the magazine, but he wouldn’t give me the time of day. Said he would only talk to the New York Times or the New Yorker.”

Gustave was all about control. Control gave him power. I could see it here in this space. I could see it on the stage. I could see it at my parents’ cocktail party. And there was no doubt in my mind he exerted control in the bedroom. The thought of him banging Willow and making her his submissive sent a rush of nausea to my chest.

“They look good together,” I mumbled.

“Anyone would look good with Willow. She’s a fucking knockout.”

“She’s not even looking for me.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know you’re here. Did you tell her you would be?”

Duffy made a good point. I’d never called or texted her to let her know I was attending the gala. Though it surprised me that she didn’t see me sitting in the front row, maybe, blinded by the lights, she couldn’t. Or…maybe she only had eyes for him.

And then as I glared at them, my eyes widened and my spine stiffened. “Fuck. He put his arm around her.”

Duffster gave me a jab. “What the fuck are you doing standing here talking to me?”

“What should I do?”

“It’s simple. Claim her.”

It never ceased to amaze me how Duffy had become a regular dispenser of love advice to the forlorn.

“Go, pal, and while you’re at it, give me something to write about.”

Without thinking twice, I hurried off in Gustave and Willow’s direction, taking giant steps and elbowing my way through the crowd.

Along the way, I bumped into my mother.

“Ryan, darling,” she said after draining her champagne, “I’ve been looking all over for you. We may have found a seat for you at Table 8.”

“No need, Mother. I won’t be staying.”

Confused, she stared at me with her glazed eyes. God knows how many glasses of champagne she’d consumed. Without saying another word, I continued on my warpath. The closer I got to Willow and Gustave, and the closer they got to each other, the more my rage and jealousy fueled me.

The crowd thickened with women trying to get a photo taken with the two stars or their programs signed. Occasionally, I muttered, “excuse me.”

Finally, when I was a few feet away from them, my eyes made contact with Willow’s. She gasped.

“Oh my God, Ryan, what are you doing here?”

With force, I grabbed her elbow and wrenched her away from Gustave. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We need to talk.”

Gustave’s face contorted with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are? She’s with me.”

“Not any more, ballerina boy.” Then, on my next heated breath, I fisted my right hand and sent it straight to his nose. He groaned. Staggering on his feet, he cursed under his breath as he wiped away the blood that poured from his nostrils.

Without another word or looking back, I marched Willow out of the theater. I didn’t give a flying fuck if people were looking at us. Maybe I’d given Duffy something to write about.

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