“I’ll text him to come check it out.”
“Copy.” He puts down the radio. I stand, and he grabs my wrist. “Where are you going?”
“To check out the dress. I still need to pick out my makeup.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not touching an unmarked, couriered package until Glen comes in to clear it.”
“Why Glen?” I protest. “Why can’t you do it?”
“He was our dems specialist. Demolitions. He knows the most about things that explode.”
Nerves clutch at my stomach. “You think it willexplode?”
“It’s not impossible.” He sits down on the lounger next to mine, picking up his towel. “Better safe than sorry.”
I nod numbly. We’re silent for a while, staring up at the still blue sky. Even though we’re not touching, I can feel his presence twenty centimetres away, like electricity prickling down one side of my body.I don’t know if it’s the sun or a blush warming my cheeks.
“You know,” he says, “from a security standpoint, going out tonight is a really bad idea. If you care that much about homeless kids, make a donation. A party won’t help them.”
“I have to go. I organised it.”
He blinks. “Wait. What?”
“I organised the event. It’s my charity.” He stares at me. I snort. “Sorry, isn’t that diva-ish enough? I can call you a pathetic asshole or something, if that would help. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your terrible assumptions about me.” I stretch out my neck, rolling it from side to side. “What’s that about, anyway? Do you have a vendetta against all celebrities? Or have you just been keeping up with me in the tabloids?”
“All celebrities,” he grunts.I wait, but he doesn’t expand.
“… Why?”
“Bad experience.”
Ah, shit. I can only imagine what self-important idiots he’s had to work with before. I’ve met plenty of stars who let the fame get to their heads. “Fair.” I wiggle my toes, examining my pedicure. “I don’t trust famous people, either.”
“No?”
I nod. “So many people want to be in the industry. The ones who actually make it to the top are usually the most ruthless. They’ve had to step on a lot of people to get their spot.”
“You didn’t,” he counters. “You didn’t have to do anything to get famous. It landed in your lap.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and he shrugs. “I looked you up. You were scouted at a school talent show. Two months later, you were in LA, shooting what would become the most popular daytime television show sinceFriends.You didn’t have to fight for your fame, you just got lucky.”
“Yes,” I say softly, my lips twisting into a smile. “Of course. I was very, verylucky.”
Matt looks like he wants to say something else, but before he can, his radio crackles again.
“Glen’s here,” Kenta says.“Come to the kitchen, please.”
“News?”
“The Stalkers got back.”Even through the tinny speaker, his voice sounds grim.
“And?” Matt prompts, standing.
“It’s not good.”
My insides curl. Oh, God. What the Hell did they find?
Matt picks up his coffee and turns to me. “I’m gonna speak to Kenta. Do me a favour and stay out here until Glen clears the package. He’ll leave it outside your bedroom when it’s done.”
