I See...Love (A Different Road Book 1) (10 page)

“She’s trying to get into her garage. One of them is hot on her tail snapping photos,” he says.

“Get his fucking ass and teach him a lesson!” I yell.

Josh stops the car and quickly exits. I step out of the passenger seat and listen. There’s a small scuffle, and I hear what sounds like a camera hitting the ground and smashing into several pieces. Then I hear the sound of Joss’s garage door closing. Other cars start to pull up with more paparazzi. They rush over to me and start snapping photos. I get back in my car, which has heavily tinted windows. Good luck, fuckers, you can’t get any photos of me through them.

I hear Sebastien’s raspy smoker’s voice have a conversation with the rats outside my door, then car doors open and close and vehicles start to head back down the street. If Sebastien is good at anything, it’s that he’s good at cleaning up messes. Josh knocks a knuckle on the glass three times, and then opens the door.

“All clear,” he says.

“Give the tabloids to Joss,” I instruct.

“But…” Josh starts.

“Give them to her,” I order, in a stern voice.

We walk up to the front door and knock. A minute later the door is thrown open, then I hear the sharp intake of Nina’s breath.

“What are you doing here,” she whispers.

“No one will be bothering you or Joss anymore. I’ve had everything taken care of,” I tell Nina.

“They practically attacked Joss in the garage,” she says.

“I’ve taken care of everything. Is she going to be alright?” I ask, Nina.

“I’m not sure, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep an eye on her,” she replies, in a sweet tone.

I hear Josh exchanging weight on his legs, and then his fingers in his fists crack. The door creaks as Nina opens it all the way to allow the men inside to deliver the magazines.

“Here’s my card with my personal number on it,” I say, as I take a few steps inside their house and pull a card out of my pocket. “Call me if you need anything. And I do mean anything,” I continue.

“Thank you,” she says.

I hear from low on the floor what sounds like Joss crying. I find myself grinding my own knuckles as they tighten into a fist. She didn’t sign on for this. I don’t give a fuck what people say about me, but I never meant to hurt Joss.

“That goes for me, too. If you need anything, just...” Josh starts to tell Nina, but she interrupts him.

“I don’t need anything…or, should I say,
nothing
from you,” she says, and closes the door.

Josh takes my elbow and leads me back to my car. He opens the passenger door, but it’s immediately slammed closed before I can get in.

“Seems I’m always coming in and cleaning up your messes for you, boy. If you have it in that dimwitted head of yours to try and get rid of me before your father intended, you’d better think again.”

I don’t dignify his statement with a reply. Josh reopens the door again and I get in.

“To the office?” Josh asks, once we’re both back in my car.

“No, home,” I reply.

Josh and I work side by side for a few hours from my home office. It’s not the same as going into the office, but I’m still able to get a lot done.

We wrapped up for the evening about a half hour ago. Josh seemed off the entire day and I’m sure it has to do with seeing Nina earlier. Still sitting in my chair behind my desk in my office, I start to smell the pleasant aroma of food. Not just any food, Joss’s food.

Ten minutes later, Josh walks into my office and puts a plate in front of me. Most times Josh eats with me, but tonight he exits the room leaving me by myself.

Smell is such a big part of my life now. Sitting over a plate of Joss’s cooking only makes me think about Joss. That smell of nutmeg behind her ear, the sound of her voice singing in my kitchen, the way she sounded sitting on the floor crying this morning, they all flood my thoughts.

I pound my fist on my desk and catch the edge of the plate, sending it rattling on my desk. The food spills from the plate onto my desk, onto my lap, and I’m sure on the floor. I stand up and grab my forehead with my hand and squeeze it tight.

My cell phone vibrates on the desk, distracting me from my anger. There are only a few people who have this cell phone number, Josh, Stephen, Kate, Sebastien, and now Nina. Only three of the five I’d answer for. Josh wouldn’t call me from inside the house. Sebastien, sure as fuck better not be calling me. Kate doesn’t have phone privileges today, so that only leaves two people.

I find the edge of the desk and feel for my cell. I find it and swipe my finger across the screen answering the phone.

“Hello,” I answer.

There’s a long pause. Before I lose my temper again, I think about it for a second. If it were Stephen he surely would have spoken by now. It has to be Nina. Has something else happened? Sebastien, the fucker didn’t do his fucking job! Something is wrong.

“Nina,” I say, worried.

“This is Joss,” a small, quiet voice answers.

Joss. Chills race over my skin at the sound of her voice.

“Joss, what’s wrong? Is something wrong?” I ask, more urgently.

Another long pause followed by sniffling. She’s crying again.

“I wanted to call and say thank you for handling the situation this morning. And for pulling all the tabloids off the shelves,” she whispers.

Nina lets me sit on the floor for an hour. After an hour, she stands in front of me and taps her foot. It’s a good thing, too, because my tailbone is killing me.

“Get up,” she says.

“You can’t make me,” I reply, lifting my head.

I’m safe down here wrapped in my own arms with my head buried in the proverbial sand. Well, my head is buried. It’s just buried in my knees.

“Girl, you know I can make you. We took karate together, remember? Don’t even make me try,” she says, putting her hand on her hip.

“Fine,” I say, and slap my hands down on the tiled floor.

Seriously, I was just about to get up anyway; my butt is killing me. I don’t think I can sit another minute on the floor. But, I won’t tell her that. I’ll let her think she’s making me.

I stand up and stretch my aching body. The sight of the tabloids catches my eye and I cringe.

“What do you want to do with them?” she asks.

I’d love to set them on fire where they sit and have a huge bonfire, but that would start the whole house on fire, too. That doesn’t mean we can’t take them in the backyard and burn them in the fire pit.

“Let’s take them outside and burn them. Do you think he got them all?” I ask.

That’s a dumb question. Of course he didn’t! What do I think he went into millions of homes and stole every last copy? Oh my God! Do you think there really are millions of copies?

“I don’t know, honey. I can tell you by the look on his face that he was upset. And he wasn’t upset because of what they were saying about him. He was upset because you were upset,” she says.

Now, how could she know that? He has to be upset. No one likes to be talked bad about. I know they say no publicity is bad publicity, but it has to bother him.

It takes Nina and me about thirty trips what took four men, one trip to get all the magazines out of our family room and into the backyard.

“You have the honors,” Nina says, handing me the matches.

I look at the pile and wonder just how I got to this point in my life. I’m just a simple girl, living a simple life. How did my ass get plastered all over the tabloids? I knew I didn’t like these stupid tabloids. That’s why I’ve never bought any in the first place. I’ve never even liked looking at them until I met River.

River.

That’s how I got where I am. I look at the pile again and take one magazine off the top, then roll it up and stick it in my back pocket. I take the matches from Nina and light the pile of crap on fire.

Nina reaches over and squeezes my hand. She goes into the house and comes back out with two skewers and a bag of marshmallows, and I bug out my eyes at her.

“What?” she says, muffled with a mouth full of marshmallows. “Might as well have some good come out of the situation,” she continues.

Leave it to Nina to find the good in every situation. We sit down around the fire in bright, lime green Adirondack chairs, and stuff our faces with toasted marshmallows.

The fire is almost out and all that’s left is a bunch of smoldering ashes. The bag of marshmallows is gone, and I’m sure the stomach ache is right around the corner.

“Come on, let’s go,” Nina says.

“Go! Go where?” I ask.

I’m not leaving this house. I’m sure there’s a pride of lion paparazzi outside my front door still. A pride of stealthy lion paparazzi since it’s pretty quiet out there. I’m surprised they didn’t see the big stream of billowing smoke coming from our backyard. I’m shocked there aren’t drones flying overhead recording every second possible.

“We need to go to the grocery store and start prepping for the week,” she says, standing up.

“You go ahead. I’m fine right here,” I tell her.

“Um, no. You’re coming with me. Grab your list and let’s get this over with. I can’t shop for the crazy menu’s you have planned. I can help, but I can’t shop for them.”

She’s right. She can’t do the shopping alone, just like I could never handle the website alone. We each bring our own unique qualities to our business, and that’s what makes it so successful. Can’t I just have a do-over and wake up and not have gone to the farmer’s market this morning?

She holds her hand out to help me out of my chair.

“Oh, alright,” I give in.

I grab my notes from my desk and head out to her catering van. She drives to the grocery store and as she parks, I sink into my seat.

“It’ll be alright,” she says, reaching for my hand.

I’m not at all sure I believe her. I look out the window and don’t notice anyone standing in the deep, dark recesses with an evil camera in their hand, so I get out.

The funny thing is that not one person seemed to even look at me cross-eyed. The employees at the store all waved or said hello like nothing was wrong. Up and down every aisle, I was waiting for someone to come flying off the shelf, making the contents tumble to the ground, snapping a photo. But that never happened. I hold my breath as we get in the long checkout line. As we get to the register, I glance at the tabloid and magazine section, expecting to see hundreds of copies of my ass on full display. But, there aren’t any. It really is as if it never happened at all. We load the van and head home.

“You should call him and thank him,” she says.

My heart sinks. She’s right, of course, but it’s not something I’m looking forward to. I know he’s an important client and I don’t want to jeopardize that. Oh, God. Do you think he wants to still keep us as a client? Shit, what if he cancels because we were so much trouble? Josh and Nina had a thing, I’m sure he’s not happy about that, and now this. Wait! What the hell am I talking about? He’s the one who hoisted my ass over his shoulder and carried me through a room full of his guests. It’s not like he didn’t know they were all there. He invited them all for crying out loud. Every single one of them had a cell phone. I’m surprised there’s not a video of the whole thing. Oh, please tell me there’s not a video.