The only catch? I didn’t want to be interviewed, not yet, and I didn’t want to bring Princess into it. I hoped it was a bit like calling my dad’s bluff — I’d show him I’m not afraid to go to the media myself, and he’d walk away.
He still hadn’t returned my phone call.
So now it was a game of chicken.
Either way. The truth was going to come out — Wes was right about that. But at least this time, when I thought about that ticking time bomb, I was clipping at the wires. I wasn’t just staring at it waiting for it to scare the shit out of me. Funny, how all it takes is a different perspective for you to snap out of a fearful situation and empower yourself.
Awesome.
Now I sounded like Wes.
The walking Hallmark card.
And shoot me now.
“Dude, the jeans don’t look that bad,” Wes scoffed. “Stop being so dramatic. Damn actors.”
I pulled the trigger and mouthed poof right in Wes’s face and smirked. His response was to tilt his head to the right, feel my forehead, and then smack me on the cheek Godfather style.
“I think you’re more fun to irritate when you have light hair.”
“Hilarious.” I threw on a black t-shirt and grabbed my keys.
“Gabe—”
“What?” We’d decided it would be weird for him to call me anything else. I was so damn relieved he didn’t want to call me Ashton because I knew it was only a matter of time before the whole freaking universe was going to be shouting that name. And I didn’t mean that because people loved me — no, I meant that just because once reporters had a bone it was chewed on until only tiny shreds remained, once the bone disappeared, they’d just cough it up and start the process all over again.
“Thanks for trusting me with her.”
I couldn’t look at him.
So I looked at the floor. “Just, don’t freak her out. She likes to play board games, but you have to move the pieces for her. And the only reason I trust you with her is because…well, you’re you. Besides, she has a thing for guys with light hair and dimples.”
Wes threw his head back and laughed. “She has good taste, that’s what you mean.”
I joined in. “Yeah man, the best.”
“So I’ll see you later at the home then?”
“Yeah.” I scratched the back of my head. Why the hell was I so nervous? I felt like a parent leaving my child for the first time. Is that what Princess had become to me? Wes was the first person other than Saylor who was going to meet her and I wasn’t even going to be there to see it happen. But, the only way I could actually go out tonight and be with Saylor — be the man she needed me to be — was if I had someone I trusted keeping their eye on Princess.
And Wes did kind of come along with two of his best security.
Add them to the security we already had at the Home, and we had six guys who wouldn’t let a soul through the doors if they as much as sneezed in the wrong direction.
“Go.” Wes pointed to the door. “Just make sure your pants are still on by the end of the night.”
“As opposed to what? Down by my ankles?”
“As opposed to what, he asks.” Wes rolled his eyes. “Need I remind you how many compromising positions I’ve walked in on in this room?”
“Oh that.” I waved my hand into the air. “Water under the bridge. I buried that mask.”
“Huh?”
“You said to fuse them together.” I flashed him a triumphant grin and waved goodbye. “So I only put together the good parts. Princess’s favorites, Saylor’s favorites, yours, Lisa’s… the rest of that shit? It was better left behind. Baggage, you would say.”
“Well, well, well.” Wes clapped. “The student becomes the teacher.”
“Bye, Sensei.” The door clicked behind me to Wes’s laughter. I had trouble fighting my own smile as I put on my baseball hat and walked down the hall.
So far, nobody had said much to me. Besides, who actually suspects that they’ve been living next door to a long lost celebrity for four years?
As unbelievable as it sounds, when you live in the real world, outside of Cali or New York, people don’t give a shit. In LA people are constantly looking for famous people, hoping to catch one as if we’re animals you have to trap or something.
But put me in Boise, Idaho? Seattle, Washington? They don’t expect it, so they just see a guy tatted up.
That being said, though, it had only been four years, so I kept the hat low, I didn’t want anything ruining this night with Saylor.
I’d never pursued a girl before.
With Princess it had just happened.
And as for the rest of the girls I slept with — it was the only way to promise myself that Ashton Hyde was gone. He would have never done that. After all, Princess was the second girl I’d ever slept with, and I’d believed I was going to marry her. I’d thought she was it.
Recreating yourself via turning into a monster? Not the smartest idea I’d ever had — especially considering putting my whole body at risk.
Shit. I’d even messed up my own suicide.
I was too naïve to even know what the hell I was doing.
I‘d cut my wrists the wrong way and hadn’t bled out.
My first tattoos covered my scars — as best they could.
Self-consciously I rubbed the scar on my right wrist as the elevator doors closed in front of me.
Five minutes.
Around seventy-two steps later… I was in front of Saylor’s door.
It was just a door.
But beyond that door?
Was not just a girl.
Inhaling, so I didn’t forget to breathe and pass out, I knocked twice and waited.
The door swung open.
Saylor was wearing a short black dress with gold high heels. Her hair was pulled back in a low messy bun and her lipstick was red.
Red.
Red.
Red.
For some reason, repeating it in my head just made me all the more aroused over the fact that those perfect lips, her perfect mouth, was red, and it was going to be pressed right against mine.
That is if she didn’t impale me with something first — we did have a tendency to fight a bit.
“You look…” I licked my lips and let my eyes roam over her body for a second time. “Stunning.”
Her mouth widened into a smile.
Holy shit.
I coughed and looked away. Freaking gorgeous was more like it.
“Thank you.” She stepped toward me, making me naturally step backward and nearly collide with someone else walking down the hall.