“How can you not know that?You’re famous. Everyone should know everything about you.”
He’s smiling as my phone buzzes in my scrubs pocket, and I jump.
I pull it out and stare at a number I don’t recognize.
“Probably your only chance,” Davis murmurs.
Oh shit.
It’s his sister.
“I have her number now.”
That gets me a full-on snort of laughter as my phone keeps buzzing in my hand. “No, you don’t.”
“What does that mean?”
He shakes his head, grinning as he pulls the sandwich off the skillet and plates it on a yellow Fiesta plate.
“How do I know this is your sister?”
“You don’t.”
“How doyouknow it’s your sister?”
“Because I know my sister.”
Fuck it.
I might be a little tipsy, but I can do this.
I can figure out if it’s really his sister.
I swipe to answer, and before I can sayhello?a woman’s voice is saying, “This is Vanessa Remington. Am I speaking with Sloane Pearce?”
“I—yes. How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
Davis is grinning as he bites into the grilled cheese, so I don’t hear what his sister says, because I’m distracted by my surprise. “Oh my god, I thought you were making that forme,” I say to him.
“Didn’t say you wanted one.”
“What’s he cooking?” the woman on the phone who’s claiming to be Vanessa and who weirdly sounds like Davis—but in a less-deep voice kind of way—says.
And that opinion about her voice is definitely my tequila talking. “Grilled cheese.”
“Cheddar and Havarti on sourdough?”
“How did you know that?”
“He’s predictable. Why did he let you into his trailer? He never lets anyone new into his trailer. And please don’t lie to me. I’ve had averylong day, and I have no interest in having you investigated.”
I look at Davis, then at his grilled cheese, then at the popcorn he’s pouring into the cast-iron skillet. “Do you really never let anyone in your trailer? What about your house? Do you have a house somewhere? Have your friends even seen it? Also, may I please have a grilled cheese? The tequila isn’t settling too well and I don’t know if popcorn will be enough to help.Oh my god. That wasn’t tequila, was it? Was that some kind of weird truth serum?”
“Are you talking to me or him?” maybe-Vanessa says.
“Him. But I’m back to talk to you because clearly he won’t answer a simple question.”
“Why are you there?” she repeats.
