But there’s no hiding for Aurelia, so it’s an effort in futility.
I knew she was famous, but I didn’t really get the full measure until these last few weeks after I left rehab.
“So, Aurelia,” the host of the talk show says with a gleam in her eye, “Are you ever going to tell us what happened to you? Where you’ve been all this time?”
Aurelia is in another one of her ridiculous getups for the appearance, and she still looks fucking beautiful. I hate that. I cross my arms and pretend I’m not half hard after noticing that her tits have grown. Fuck’s that about?
“Well, I would, Avery, but I’ve been advised by my agent that I should save it all for the book. I’m told it’s going to be a real page-turner, and I wouldn’t want to spoil anything.”
The crowd laughs, and Avery Shaw chuckles, but I can see even through the screen that the hostess is searching for a way around Aurelia’s well-rehearsed answers. “Well, how much have you written so far?”
“Oh, about a page. Yeah, I’ve been really giving it my all. The publisher is optimistic. I think my agent is already talking to directors about developing the screenplay.”
Avery feigns surprise. “Just from the one page?”
“Well, it’s a really good page, Avery.”
The crowd laughs again, and the discussion moves on once Avery realizes she won’t get Aurelia to crack. I feel the corner of my lips tugging with pride before I remember to shove it down.
She’s not mine anymore.
When the show goes off and Aurelia is gone, Zeke changes the channel and Khalil turns his head to regard us with impassive eyes. “What do you guys want for dinner?”
I run cold fingers through my shorn hair—the length long gone—as I pretend to give a shit, since me not eating becomes a big fucking deal around here these days. I’m still getting used to my hair being short since it hasn’t been in the ten years since I was discharged from the Marines, but it’s not so bad. At least, it’s not a fucking buzz cut. It’s long enough to spike when it’s tousled, brush my nape, and curl around my ears.
I make the mistake of wondering if Aurelia will like it before I banish the thought of her from my mind. Khalil still refuses to cut his hair, but it’s braided now with the ends tucked inside the blue durag he’s wearing.
“Chinese?” Zeke suggests.
Khalil pulls out his phone and begins to look for a spot. It’s a few minutes before he looks up from his phone. “This one looks good, but it’s a bit of a drive.”
“Where is it?” Zeke asks absently as he scrolls on his phone.
“Beverly Hills.”
Zeke’s head pops up while all of my muscles become coiled like a snake. I’m feeling ravenous all of a sudden, but it’s not for food.
Beverly Hills.
Where Aurelia lives.
Where she’ll likely be heading right now.
“Well, I guess there’s no time to waste,” I say as we all stand and dash out the door. The three of us hop inside the rental with Zeke in the driver’s seat, and the drive to Beverly Hills seems to be over in a flash despite the traffic. Once we reach our destination, Zeke parks on the street with the neon sign of the Chinese restaurant Khalil found online flickering next to us, but none of us get out of the truck as we wait for the arrival of the black SUV with dark tint. There are already a few paps and overzealous fans waiting outside as if they had a similar idea.
“Fuck, there’s a lot of them,” Zeke growls while he strangles the steering wheel. His rage at seeing all of those people waiting to ambush Aurelia and the lingering possession that demands we do something about it feel like a twin to my own.
But there’s nothing we can do because the SUV carrying Aurelia, including the lead and tail, are already pulling up. We watch with gritted teeth as they all clamber to raise their cameras and get closer to the vehicle. Aurelia’s security steps out first, led by Westbrook, and they work to push the crowd back to make room for Aurelia before she even steps out.
Once there’s a clear path to the door, Westbrook returns to the SUV and opens the back for her. Aurelia takes his hand as she steps out, and then she waves and signs a few items, but doesn’t stop to pose for a photo or revel in the attention.
She’s there and gone in under sixty seconds, and I’m left with a craving that’s ten times worse than before now that I’ve seen her. It’s all I can do not to get out of the truck and force my way inside. To return the favor of when she ambushed our lives like a shiny wrecking ball.
Aurelia George ruined my fucking life, and if I had the chance to choose, I’d let her do it all over again.
“She looks good,” Zeke says, breaking the silence that feels stifling inside the car.
“She’s also a liar,” Khalil reminds him.
