Page 15 of When Stars Fall

I nod at her instead of offering my hand. Everything in the limo is hazy, softer. Wyatt’s been pissing me off. Blowing hot and cold and every temperature in between when we’re in a room together. Keeping track of his moods makes my brain hurt.

“What the fuck did you give her?” Wyatt leans forward and shakes my knee.

“Leave me alone, Wyatt.” I burrow deeper into Isaac’s side and slap Wyatt’s hand away.

“Seriously, Isaac.” Anger clouds his face. A storm is brewing, though they never seem to fight . . .

“Why do you care?” I stare at Blanca, who is sipping her wine, amusement teasing the edges of her mouth. Maybe she doesn’t speak English.

Wyatt cracks the tequila bottle and pours three shots. He passes one to Isaac, one to Blanca, and keeps one for himself.

“Hey.” I manage to sit forward in annoyance.

“Not happening.” Wyatt gives me a pointed, pissed-off look. “What did you take? Pill, powder, or liquid?”

I shrug. A drink of some sort. Tasted like candy. Isaac wouldn’t give me something bad.

“You didn’t tell her?” Disbelief is clear in his voice. His brow furrows with disappointment.

“It was a glass of lean. Calm down,” Isaac says.

I swipe Isaac’s shot before he can drink it, and I down the liquid in a gulp. “You’re a hypocrite.” My words slur.

Isaac pours another, handing it to me. Wyatt settles into his seat with his jaw clenched. Blanca drapes herself over him.Gross.

His sea-colored eyes are trained on me as I chat nonsense with Isaac. When we step out of the limo at the club, the camera flashes are rapid and blinding. I stumble, and Isaac drags me tighter to his side to keep me from falling. We navigate the crush of people with club security as a wall around us until we reach the front entrance.

Strange that we’re arriving this way. We rarely go in the front entrance because of the paparazzi. Wyatt and Isaac enjoy the attention, but I’ve learned they like it best on their own terms.

Inside the bar, Blanca leads the way to a VIP room at the back. At least this part is normal, even if I don’t feel normal in any way. There are others in the VIP area, and Isaac glues himself to my side so I don’t feel out of place. He always knows everyone. For what seems like hours, he takes me around from person to person, introducing me and speaking a weird mix of Spanish and English that I couldn’t follow sober. Isaac speaks Hindi too. Right now, I can barely speak at all.

“What’s Wyatt’s problem?” I ask when we slide into a booth without him.

One side of Isaac’s mouth tilts up, and he turns to examine me. “Oh, Ellie. How much time have you got?”

“Isaac!” The crowd in front of us parts, and a striking dark-haired white woman appears. She’s tall and reed thin, and the closer she gets, the more recognition dawns in my addled brain. Wyatt’s younger sister.

Isaac scoots over to give Anna room to squeeze into the booth with us. She’s on the other side of him, and he throws his arm around her narrow shoulders. “Anna, have you met Ellie? She’s starring opposite Wyatt in the movie we’re shooting.” He shifts to me. “Ellie, this is Wyatt’s baby sister. Kinda like my baby sister too.” He kisses her temple. “The Sharmas unofficially adopted the Burgess kids.”

Anna takes me in with eyes that are an unusual blue-green shade, just like Wyatt’s. Her allure is remarkable, and her modeling career makes a lot of sense. She’s the same age as me, but there’s a toughness to her I don’t possess.

“You the flavor of the month? How long are you going to last?” Anna asks, and she sips her drink while watching for my response.

“Be nice,” Isaac says.

Anna rolls her eyes and then focuses on Isaac. “Have you got anything?”

“What’re you after?” He digs into his pocket.

“You got any benzos?” She peers into his pill bottle.

While they sort through Isaac’s stash, I look over to see Wyatt brush Blanca off his lap and leave his bar stool. With a swagger, he comes over to where Isaac, Anna, and I are sitting, and he holds out his hand. “They’re playing our song. You gotta come dance with me.” He tips his head toward the dance floor.

“Did he just say ‘our song’?” Anna asks Isaac in an overly loud voice. “Wyatt, stay and do a line with us. Don’t be lame.”

“Not now, Anna,” he says, and he doesn’t break eye contact with me.

I listen and catch a few bars of the chorus. It’s the Alicia Keys song he asked to have played the other day during our love scene.

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