Page 141 of Breaking Hollywood

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you look it. Oh, and I cleaned up the glass from earlier, so you know.”

The bottle I smashed earlier. Shit.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You mean, me being an ex-hooker?”

I stare at him, wanting to make him uncomfortable so that he won’t push the conversation, but the fucker steadily stares back at me.

I look away. “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And what about Ava?”

“What about her?” I glare at him.

“Do you want to talk about her?”

“No.”

His silence weighs heavy for a moment.

“Charly’s with her. They’re at the Four Seasons. Ava stayed there last night. Charly flew in with me this morning and went straight there to see her.”

The Four Seasons, huh? Nice. She must be using the blood money she earned from selling me out.

Hurt and anger squeeze my chest like a vise.

“Why are you telling me this?” I speak the words through gritted teeth.

“I thought you might want to know.”

“Well, I don’t,” I snap. “I don’t give a shit where she is.”

Silence.

“Charly says that Ava is adamant that she didn’t talk to that journalist.”

I slide hard eyes to him. “You believe her?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Charly does, and I trust Charly.”

“Then, you’re both as big of a fool as I was.” I stub my cigarette out and toss the butt into the ashtray.

“Gabe”—he sits forward, arms on thighs, hands clasped together—“the stuff that Digby printed. The things from your past. It doesn’t matter shit to me. I don’t look at you any differently. You did what you needed to, to survive. Fuck, you were barely an adult yourself, taking care of your kid brother. No one will judge you for that.”

“Yes, they will.” I tip my chin in the direction of the window. “Them out there, they’ll judge me.”

“So what? Don’t let other people make you feel ashamed of who you were. You’re who you are now because of your past.”

“Yeah, and aren’t I just a fucking stellar example of a human being?”

“You can be a moody asshole at times. You drink way too much and smoke like a fucking chimney. But you’re also one of the best people I know. You’d give your shirt off your back to help someone. And don’t try to fucking deny it because I know you would.”

I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and stare down at the floor. “I just wish I hadn’t been so fucking stupid.”