Page 36 of Play Hard
I leaned back in the chair, my gaze locking on the nothingness of the ceiling. “Can he find out who took the picture from walking around the property?” If he couldn’t, I really didn’t want to hear anything else about some old, retired cop, freelancing as a PI.
“He’s looking for clues, man. You gotta calm down. You been walking around here like a grumpy old man,” Lance countered.
“I want to know who took that fuckin’ picture!” I resisted the urge to sit up and clear the contents of this desk again. That was the first thing I’d done when I finally made it here late Sunday morning. Then, I had to spend the next hour cleaning all that shit up.
“We all want to know who was creepy enough to come back almost an hour after we’d closed, lean up against the windows, and wait for a picture opportunity.” Rock shook his head. “That shit is weird as hell.”
“Not that weird.” I sighed. “Serra’s bitch-ass ex was all over social media earlier in the day Saturday, so reporters were looking for their next hit on the story.”
“But why look Serra’s way?” Rock asked. “Doesn’t it make more sense to hound Bowman for a quote or whatever? Or the agency where Serra works to get a statement?”
It was Lance’s turn to shake his head. “No. Serra’s the best target for clicks.”
Turning my head, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Because she’s the woman scorned.”
Lance raised both brows and locked gazes with me. “And the possible partner in crime at the same time. In fact, Serra’s the best source of clicks and comments between the three already named in this fiasco.”
Now, I sat all the way up.
And Lance continued, “She’s the agent whose career is now on the line and the scorned ex, and the fiancée that Lindsey Loren would consider her competition. She’s the biggest enemy, and up until last night, they thought she was off the grid.”
“That last part.” I nodded. “That part right there is what’s also blowing me. How did anybody know to find her here? She has no ties to Providence on paper. Her grandfather is here, but he’s on her maternal side, so their last names are different.”
The room was silent for a few moments.
“Who knew she was coming here?” Lance asked.
“She said her best friend knew. They work together at the agency.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose as a name from the past popped into my mind. “Sawyer Ward. That bastard!”
“A relative?” Rock asked.
“Yeah, her brother. He hates me, and from what Serra used to tell me when we were back in college, he has no love for Providence either. None of her brothers do. Their father is this high-priced lawyer from Boston who thought everything about this town was beneath him, even his father-in-law.”
“So Crabtree’s daughter married an asshole.” Lance chuckled dryly. “I’m not even surprised. Either you sit in this town and grow old while trying to preserve every molecule of the past you can find, or you get the hell out and never look back.”
“Except us,” I added. “We got the hell out and came right back.”
“They always said we were dumb as rocks. Hence my nickname.” Rock smirked.
Wanting all this shit to be over, I inhaled and exhaled heavily. Serra had been going through the motions, smiling whenever she caught me looking at her, but sad as fuck when I caught glimpses of her not paying attention. Sunday morning, after we showered, she spoke to her publicist and her friend from the agency. And from the one side of the conversation I heard, she sounded equal parts pissed and afraid. Of course, when she finished with the calls, she joined me at the dining room table where I’d set out the breakfast that had been delivered, she’d pulled her confidence back into place and talked like she was ready to take on whatever came next.
Once upon a time I’d known Serra very well. So well, that I bought into the notion that we were really soulmates. We were like two bruised halves of a whole, believing that together we made something solid. Something real and unique. Somethingneither of us knew what the hell to do with, at least not at that point in our lives. And truthfully, I wasn’t sure we knew what we were doing now. We definitely hadn’t talked about what we’d done Saturday night and into Sunday morning, or what that might mean for the adults we’d become. That social media post and all the noise surrounding it was keeping that conversation on ice.
“You tell her about L.A. yet?”
Rock’s question jerked me out of my thoughts, and I frowned. “No.”
“I still can’t believe you kept that shit from us. We’re brothers, Noah. We would’ve done anything we could to help you,” Lance said.
Clenching my teeth, I set my gaze on him. One of the first questions the brothers had when I walked into the bar on Sunday was about the rehab part of that statement. Surprisingly, that hadn’t been the part of that post that stood out to me most the first time I read it. The picture was because I instinctively knew what the spin on it was going to be and I hated that for Serra. I worked in Hollywood, I knew exactly how a smear campaign looked and how quickly someone could be canceled for that shit, whether or not any of it was true.
“I dealt with it,” was my response to Lance. “When I realized it was getting out of hand, I checked myself into rehab. As soon as I got out, I came back here. That’s it. End of story.”
“That’s not it,” Lance said and stood. “But I’m gonna let you roll with that. For now.”
The others were on that same line, letting me go without really digging into my ass about keeping the fact that I’d been addicted to pain killers from them. I knew they were pissed and hurt that I didn’t trust them enough with that moment of my life. And sometimes, I even felt like shit for not telling them. Because what if something had happened to me and they had to learnthat sordid part of my life from a cop reporting my death or a coroner after an autopsy? That would’ve been shitty.
My gaze went to Rock as Lance left the office. Rock closed the door behind him, but didn’t cross the room to sit in the chair Lance had left vacant. No, the big guy kept his post at the door, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his black jeans. Tilting his head, he asked, “When are you going to tell her?”
