Page 5 of Secret Hudson

“That you’re the most gullible person in the entire world. Yeah, he knows. We all know.” She laughs. “You seriously think I wouldn’t have told you, like two seconds after the possibility first crossed my mind?”

Now that she mentions it. “You’ve got a point there. Shit, when the day comes, you’ll probably make me stay in the stallwith you and hold the stick while you pee. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Ava’s nose crinkles. “You ever wonder if we might be a little bit too involved in each other’s lives?”

“Why? Because you want to ask out the men I find attractive and I wouldn’t give a second thought to holding my hand near your urine?” It sounds even worse when I say it out loud. We're both cracking up before I even finish.

“Fuck around, my friend. You and I have issues.”

This is not news. Not to her. Not to me. Certainly not to anyone who knows us. Hudson...he’s another story.

HUDSON

I’m halfway down the stairs, when I remember that it probably wouldn’t hurt to pull out some of my portfolios for Ava to flip through while she’s locked in my apartment with nothing to do. I mean, if there is any chance at all of getting a gig shooting Finding Nolan, I don’t want to blow it.

Just as I place my hand on the doorknob, I hear Ava squealing inside, talking about how Royce should ask me out. Royce fucking Lemmi – is considering asking me out! I can show Ava my work later. There's no way I'm interrupting that conversation.

Elated, I skip down the steps a second time and then head straight for the door. I only have to peek my head outside before the flash of cameras sets off red spots in my vision.

“Yo. You got the wrong person.” Automatically, my hand goes up to block my face from having fifty-thousand pictures taken of me squinting.

The grumble of the crowd takes over as the flash of cameras subsides and everyone realizes I'm not Royce or Ava. Well, I’m not going to lie, I'm kind of hoping they knew all along I'm not Ava.

“If you’re looking for that musician and his friend, they took off a while ago. Asked me to let them out the back door.”

There's a wave of loud muttering and some speculations ensues, suggesting I’m basically full of shit. Which I take offense to. Not because I'm not, but because my acting skills rock and I was one hundred percent believable. Or at least, that’s what my high school drama teacher always told me, and I am set on going with that.

“Come in and see for yourself if you don’t believe me.” They all start coming at me at once. “Whoa, ey...maybe like one or two of you, not the whole damn group. Shit. Just pick a representative. I got breakables in here.”

More murmuring and then, finally, two guys that look like they live in their cars step forward and follow me in. I head straight for the emergency exit assuming they will follow. I assume wrong. They tour the whole freaking shop for over five minutes while I wait by the backdoor. By the time they show up, the smell from the deli’s dumpster next door has churned up my stomach pretty good. Lunchmeat doesn’t fare well exposed to the heat. And we're having an unusually warm September this year, so it reeks.

“You’re telling me, Royce Lemmi and Avalon Jennison came through here?” The photog eyes me skeptically. He hasevery reason to. Aside from a row of dumpsters and a chain-link fence, there isn’t much happening back here. Plus, the only walkway out of the alley would have led them right past the paparazzi again.

“Not like you left them a whole lot of options. Mr. Lemmi had to help Miss Jennison jump the fence. Pretty sure she took a stumble when she got to the other side, so don’t be surprised if she looks a little beat-up next time you see her.” My improv skills are running wild already.

The guy grunts something I don’t understand but have to assume is something agreeable since both guys turn and head back toward the front door. A second later the wind chimes play and there's a loud bang of wood-on-wood colliding.

I inch my way over to the front window to sneak a look outside. The crowd has already dispersed, and everyone is traipsing off back to where they came from. Come to think of it, there's that fancy hotel just up the street. Makes sense they're headed that way. Finding Nolan is likely staying there while they're in town.

Once I'm completely sure that no sleazy picture chasers remain lingering outside, I go back up the stairs. I have twenty-seven steps to figure out how to keep Royce Lemmi from walking out of my apartment, out of this store and out of my life forever.

CHAPTER THREE

ROYCE

“And?” I watch Ava standing beside the window, hiding behind the drapes while she tries to venture a peek outside without being seen herself.

“They’re leaving. Dude, I think he did it. They’re really taking off.” She skips away from the window and comes flying toward me so fast I barely have time to hold out my arms and catch her. “Are you in love with him yet? Because I am! He makes coffee, has a smile to die for and he can efficiently chase off the paparazzi! What more could a boy ask for?”

I put her back down before she knocks us both over with her enthusiasm. “How many extra shots did you get in that fucking coffee?”

“Five. Why?”

“Because you’re running around here like Tigger on Red Bull. Simmer the fuck down before you break something.” I catch her by her hoodie just as she's attempting to zip off again.

“You’re no fun,” she pouts and pulls her phone out of her pocket.

“Calling Blaise for a ride?” Because there's no way I'm heading back out there on foot.

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