Page 39 of Full House

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Victoria stared at her cell phone, debating the call she was about to make. She hadn’t heard from Nate for more than twenty-four hours and was worried.

The last thing she remembered before she must have fallen asleep Wednesday night was Nate telling her he had something to talk to her about. The next thing she remembered was waking Thursday morning alone in her bed, stripped of her dress. She’d been so out of it, not only had she not heard his departure, but she’d slept through him carrying her upstairs and removing her clothing.

He had left her a text, which she’d noticed he’d sent a little after six Thursday morning, informing her he’d had her car delivered and parked in her usual spot, so she’d have it for the weekend. He’d ended the text saying he’d call her when he reached Vancouver.

He never had.

She’d even made a point to keep her phone close by but had only received two phone calls since Nate’s last text, which she’d each let go to voicemail. One had been from Byron—she hadn’t been in the mood to deal with his nagging—and the other had been an unknown number that had left a voice message so full of static, it was unintelligible. She’d tried phoning Nate several times, but all her calls went to his voicemail, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he were using her same avoiding tactic.

Now it was nearing noon on Friday and still no word. She did realize he was undoubtedly very busy, but it also didn’t take a lot of time to shoot her a quick text to let her know he was alive and thinking of her. And him not doing so put her in the predicament she was now in—contemplating a phone call to his manager, April.

She looked back down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the keypad. She hesitated for a couple different reasons. First, she wasn’t a huge fan of April, and she knew the feeling was mutual. Like Byron, April took her job very seriously—after all Nate was her cash cow—and April thought Victoria got in the way, monopolizing too much of Nate’s time that could be spent on other money-making endeavors. Victoria thought that April was just an all-around bitch.

Second, she didn’t want to come off as the needy girlfriend, whining because her boyfriend hadn’t called. But it was so unlike Nate not to keep in touch, she was genuinely starting to worry.

Her worry for Nate was the deciding factor that got her digit moving, pressing the buttons that would connect her with April.

It only rang once before she picked up. “Yes?”

“April? It’s Victoria.”

“Yes, dear, I have caller ID.”

How someone could make the word “dear” sound so condescending was beyond her. Clearing her throat, she spoke into the silence. “I, um, was calling to see if you’ve heard from Nate.” Victoria grimaced, hating that the woman intimidated her, thus made her voice wobble.

“Of course. I’ve spoken to him several times. Has he not contacted you?”

Victoria would love to reply sarcastically, obviously not or I wouldn’t be calling you now, but April was her link to Nate, so instead said, “Um, no. I haven’t heard from him since he left.”

“I talked to him about an hour ago. He was getting ready to start filming.” Trying to sound reassuring but failing miserably, she added, “He has been very busy. Even attended a big party last night and didn’t get in until the wee hours. You can read all about it if you’d like. It’s all over the internet. Here, let me send you a link.”

There was silence for a few beats before Victoria heard a ping on her phone. A text from April, no doubt.

“There. Sent. Anything else I can help you with, dear?”

Victoria ground her teeth, hating to ask but did it anyway. “The next time you hear from Nate, can you tell him I called?”

“Of course. Anything else?” Or in other words, quit bothering me and hang up the phone.

“No, that will be all. Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear.”

The line went silent, and she knew April had hung up.

She pulled up April’s text and clicked on the link, a feeling of foreboding entering her stomach from the headline that appeared.

Are America’s Sweethearts on the Outs?

She avoided the gossip sites for a reason. Eighty percent of the time they got the facts wrong. Sure, they got lucky sometimes, which accounted for the remaining twenty percent, but Victoria had been raised to read tabloid stories with not just a grain but a handful of salt.

She skimmed past the article, not buying into the garbage it spewed, but halted, her heart skipping a beat, when she reached the first photo. They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but in this case, it was a full-length horror story. Nate stood next to a pretty, petite blonde, so close their shoulders touched. His head was tipped down, hers tilted up, and it looked as though they were in deep conversation.

She tried not to jump to conclusions—she really did—though it was hard. Nausea curled up her throat, but she swallowed it down, and instead of jumping the gun to full-freakout, she carefully examined the photo. Other than the fact they were standing too close for her liking, the picture was quite innocent. Both of Nate’s hands were accounted for. The one closest to the blonde held a beverage, the other was tucked in his front pocket.

Okay, a plus for Nate.

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