Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
I shrug a shoulder as guilt settles in, because maybe I’m being unfair. “He really did say hello. He remembered you.”
Her eyes widen, face going pale. “Oh my god, really?”
“Really,” I say. “And I’m sorry that I let you think it was a joke, but honestly, would you ever have believed I actually knew him? I don’t think so.”
“But you could’ve, I don’t know, brought him around? Oh my god, Kennedy, I would’ve believed then!”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Look, it’s complicated. I’ve known him for a long time, since I was younger than you. I knew him before there even was a Johnny Cunning to speak of. What we have… it’s complicated.”
“Have you…? Oh my god, have you and Johnny, you know? Together?”
“Have we what?”
“You know… have you done it?”
I give her an incredulous look. “You know where babies come from, right?”
“I know, but like… oh my god. It’s true? She’s his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god.”
“Bethany, I swear, if you say oh my god one more time.”
“Sorry! I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you have a baby with Johnny freaking Cunning! How is this real life?”
“Well, she’s not really a baby anymore. And like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“So you haven’t, you know, since he’s been around? The two of you haven’t… together?”
I say nothing, because really, I don’t want to answer that, but my silence is enough to give her what she wants.
She gasps, eyes somehow even wider as she lets out a squeal and yells, “You have!”
I cringe.
She squeals again, stepping into the stockroom. “No freaking way! You have to tell me everything. I need details!”
I can feel my face heating. “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”
“What? No! You have to! You can’t tell me you’re sleeping with Johnny Cunning and not give me more. Like, how is he? How big is it? What’s it look like? Describe it!”
I laugh at that. “I’m not describing it. And he’s, well… I don’t know. He’s not lacking, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh my god!”
I let that one slide.
“Just… wow,” she says. “This is blowing my mind. I’m not being pranked, am I? This is real, right?”
“Right.”
Pulling out my phone, I hesitate before opening FaceTime and dialing Jonathan’s number. I’ve never FaceTimed him, so I’m not sure if he’ll even answer, but after a moment he picks up, his face flashing on the screen in front of me.
All I see is skin—he’s not wearing a shirt. His hair is disheveled. He still hasn’t shaved. It only takes a second before I realize he’s in my bed.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I say right away. “Were you seriously sleeping?”
“Was trying to,” he says. “But somebody keeps interrupting my nap.”
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head, shoving away from the crate to stroll over to a shocked Bethany. I know she’s heard his voice. I know she recognizes it. I shove my phone at her, forcing it in her hand as I say, “Have fun with that one. Maybe he’ll describe it for you.”
I slip out of the storage room, hearing her squeal. “Oh my god!”
The store is busy for being a Monday afternoon. I need to walk the aisles so I can put out stock, but people are all around, shopping.
Or, well, pretending to shop.
I can feel eyes following me.
Marcus’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, calling out, “Assistant Manager to Customer Service.”
I groan. I’m the only Assistant Manager around. When I reach the front of the store, my footsteps stall, eyes going to a man standing at the customer service counter.
Clifford Caldwell.
His face is one I haven’t seen in a while—a face I would’ve been okay never seeing again in my life. Fifties, sort of handsome in a Mad Men kind of way. He’s always reminded me of a vintage ad exec. Confidence oozes from his pores, and it’s probably deserved. He’s good at what he does. The industry treats him like he’s a god, but I long ago realized he was the devil in disguise.
Clifford leans against the counter, waiting for something.
Me, I realize.
“Mr. Caldwell,” I say as I approach. “Can I help you with something?”
He smiles as he looks me over. It makes my skin crawl. “I was hoping we could chat.”
“Chat,” I say. “I’m not sure this is the right place for that.”
“You can use my office,” Marcus offers.
I’ve never wanted to strangle someone as much as I want to strangle my soon-to-be ex-boss. A chat with Clifford won’t be a conversation about the weather. I’ve been dreading him showing up, although I knew it was inevitable. Being a part of Jonathan's life means this man vying for control, and that's something I’ve avoided thinking about, because I’m not sure it's something I can accept. Not anymore. I tolerated a lot years ago, seeing it as a necessary evil of Hollywood, but things are different now.