Page 31 of Beautifully Scarred

“Did James tell you that he’s Lilah’s official babysitter?”

I roll my eyes but say nothing. He’s half drunk, and there’s nothing he likes more than to bust my balls.

Adelaide giggles. “He mentioned that he and Lilah are ‘complicated.’” She puts air quotes around the word complicated.

“Yeah, that’s one word for it. He’s more of a glutton for punishment, if you ask me,” Tripp says with a laugh.

“Not sure if you noticed, bro, but no one did ask you.” I finish off my drink.

“Not like you’d listen anyway.” He turns his attention to Adelaide, whose gaze is ping-ponging between the two of us. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to tell him to ditch the bitch? She’s been dragging him down since I’ve known him, and he just keeps going back for more.”

Adelaide’s worried gaze bounces over to me.

“He could be getting any girl he wants—hell, probably you—but instead he’s trying to set me up with you, and he keeps going back to that drug addict, waste of skin—”

“That’s enough.” I pin him with a stare and rise up from the lounger. “I’m going to get us all another drink, and when I come back I don’t want to hear her name from your mouth again, got it?”

I’ve reached my limit and Tripp must know it because he puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “Whatever you say, man.”

I walk across the deck, my empty glass clutched tightly in my fingers. He needs to let it go. There’s no way he could possibly understand the history Lilah and I share, even if he knew all of it. You have to live it to understand it. I pour myself another drink and grab a few shot glasses of tequila. After I’ve placed them all on a tray, along with a lime and some salt, I click the button on my phone on the island to see if Lilah texted back.

Nothing, but there are a few missed calls from my agent, Keane. I wonder what that’s about. It’s not ideal to call him back while half in the bag, but if there’re problems on set or something has come up with theThe Regulatorshoot, I need to know.

“Hey, James, how are you?” he asks. The sound of clinking dishware and the murmur of a room full of people fill the background.

“Good, the shoot went well today. How are you?”

“Same old.” I hear shuffling and he says, “Excuse me for a second,” to someone before the background noise dies off. “Listen, normally I wouldn’t bother you with something like this, but it seemed kinda strange, so I thought it was worth mentioning.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“Some woman named Darla keeps calling my office, looking for you. My secretary thought it was some crazed fan at first, because she called a few times a week for a month straight, but the thing is, this last time she called, she said she was your mother.”

The earth drops out from under me like when you go down the first big hill on a roller coaster. Except there’s no exhilaration that follows. My stomach pitches, and I grip the counter to remain upright.

“James, you still there?” Keane asks.

“Yeah, sorry, bad connection.”

“Anyway, yeah, she says she’s your mom, which I told my admin isn’t possible because your mother passed away, but this woman insists that she wants to talk to you.”

My mouth is drier than a desert. “Did she say what she wants?”

“Nah, just insisted that she was your mother over and over again and demanded to speak to you.”

“Do you have her number?” I ask, regaining my composure. I have no choice but to handle this before it scatters out of control.

“Well… yeah, I’m sure my secretary probably wrote it down.”

“Send it to me. I’ll take care of it.” My voice is devoid of any emotion.

“Are you sure? I can take care of it if you want. Should I call the cops to see if we can get a restraining order?”

“I said I’d take care of it,” I snipe.

“Okay, man, I’ll send it over when I’m back in the office tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” I lift a shot of tequila from the tray and tip my head back, downing it in one swallow, without the lime.

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