They’re just friends. Two friends going out. If Senna was hooking up with Axl, I would’ve been able to tell. She would’ve sounded nervous or guilty, but she didn’t sound that way at all. She sounded like she always does.
I’m being paranoid. Nothing’s going on with them.
I go to bed feeling better about Axl but still wishing I could talk to him. Wishing we could do more than that. Seeing that couple in that house kissing, and about to do more, made me want Axl. How am I going to go a whole year without him?
* * *
The next morning, I get up and go to the kitchen and find actual food there, as in food I would eat. Muffins. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Orange juice.
My stomach’s growling just seeing it. I grab a plate and load it up, then pour myself some juice.
“Excuse me,” a woman says. I turn around and see a young woman wearing a white chef’s coat coming toward me. “Those are for the meeting.” She points to the muffin in my hand.
“What meeting?” I set the half-eaten muffin down.
“Brock is meeting with his manager this morning,” she says, going around the counter. “You must be the new girl.”
“I’m Rumor. Brock’s niece.” I take a sip of the juice. “Are you the chef?”
“Yes. I’m only here three or four days a week, more if they need me.” She motions to my plate. “Go ahead and eat it. I can’t serve that now.”
I point to the platters of food. “Seems like a lot for two people. Brock doesn’t even eat any of that stuff.”
“Sometimes his manager brings unexpected guests,” she says. “Or sometimes Brock will.” She purses her lips like she doesn’t approve of these guests. Maybe she’s referring to the women he brings here to spend the night. I’m sure he cheats on his girlfriend. He seems like the type.
“Is he home?” I ask, taking a seat at the kitchen table. It has a glass top and beige upholstered chairs. There isn’t a single smudge on the glass, making me think it’s never used. I can’t imagine Braden or Trystan sitting here. They probably eat in their rooms.
“I don’t keep track of Brock’s schedule,” she says. “I’m only told what I need to have ready and when.”
“Do you live around here?” I ask.
She doesn’t seem to want to talk, but she’s here, and I’m bored and desperate to talk to someone.
“I live in San Diego.” She takes some grapes from the fridge and carries them to the sink.
Brock walks in, wearing a beige linen suit, crisp white t-shirt, and loafers.
“Good morning, ladies,” he says, smiling at us. He goes over to the chef and stands beside her, really close. “Everything ready for today?”
“Yes,” she says, not looking at him as she shakes water from the grapes.
He stares at her a moment, then reaches across her chest to take a grape from the bunch. I can’t really see, but the way he reached across her like that, I’m pretty sure he touched her breasts.
“These are excellent,” he says, biting into the grape.
She turns away from him and hurries over to the fridge. “I’ll be going to the store later if you need anything. Are you planning on staying?”
He glances at me. “For the foreseeable future, yes. I’d like to make sure Rumor is settled in before I return to LA.”
“Do you have any jobs lined up?” I ask.
He smiles at me. “We’ll see after this meeting.”
The doorbell rings, and he checks his watch. “Right on time. Ana, make sure everything is set up on the patio. Rumor, come with me. I’d like you to meet my team.”
“I’m not really dressed to meet people,” I say, looking down at my cut-off shorts and faded black t-shirt I got at a concert Axl took me to last summer. The t-shirt is tight and short enough to show off some of my stomach. That’s why Axl bought it for me. He loves shirts that show off some skin.
“Don’t worry about it.” He motions for me to follow him. “C’mon. They want to meet you.”
