The Last Thing (12 page)

I pulled into the parking lot and stopped my little car in
the spot closest to the door. It was dark outside, and I still wasn’t use to LA
crime. Back home, I could walk anywhere at any time of the night and not be
afraid.

 Chase had insisted we enter from the back so the
photographers wouldn’t see us enter or leave together. It was thoughtful; the
fact that he took my privacy very seriously. Though we hadn’t talked since he
left last night, we had been sending text messages all day.  He kept
asking how I was doing, and sent funny tidbits of his day at the studio. He was
being unexpectedly sweet.

When he had asked me out, I initially wanted to say no, but I
kept thinking about what Ginger had told me. That Bash’s death wasn’t my fault.
I wasn’t supposed to feel guilty for wanting to be happy, but that didn’t
change the fact that feeling nothing was better than feeling the inevitable
pain of love. Nothing was my coping mechanism.

  Even though it was dark outside, I placed a pair of
dark glasses on my nose and completed the look with a Tennessee ball cap. 
It was enough to hide my identity.  I straightened out my nerdy Star Wars t-shirt
with my hands.  Even though this was our first date, I hadn’t cared enough
to dress up. 

I walked up to the large metal backdoor and knocked on it
loudly. After a moment, I stepped back as a tall muscular man with light hair
and a beard opened the door. He was twice my size, about a foot taller than me,
and scary as hell. He was one of those guys with no neck who couldn’t quite lay
his arms down at his side.  He scowled down at me.

“Miss. Bardot?” he asked in a scruffy deep voice. I removed
my glasses and studied him closely, was this Chase’s bodyguard?

“Yes…I’m Quinn.”

The man’s face softened and a large smile grew upon it. He
stepped back to allow me to move inside past him.

“Nice to meet you.  I’m Randall.” He held out a large
hand. I hesitated but shook it. He wasn’t scary at all. He was like a huge,
loveable teddy bear.

“Chase has told me all about your predicament. I just want
you to know that I’ll make sure no one takes your picture. No one will come
near you,” he said.  I was a little bit surprised Chase had told anyone
about me at all, but was glad to know that I was safe.

We walked through the back hall and through the kitchen.
People were running around, yelling orders, cooking food, and grabbing plates.
Randall tried to direct me through the traffic but people kept bumping into
us.  I yelped as a younger man in a white chef’s suit carrying a huge, flaming
pan ran into me.

“Watch out!” he yelled.

Randall grabbed me by the shoulders as a wave of hot oil
soared into the air. It fell on the floor, barely missing me by inches.

“What the fuck is she doing back here?” the cook roared at
Randall.

 I cowered back against Randall, who then stepped in front of
me. Why was he yelling?  He was the one who’d run into me. I was literally
seconds away from getting my whole face burned off by hot flames.

“I suggest you clean up your mess and continue on.  She
is a VIP guest,” Randall said in his most demeaning voice.

The cook glared at me but kept his mouth closed.  He
bent down to clean up the food as Randall grabbed me by the arm and swiftly
pulled me from the kitchen.

There was a private room to the side of the kitchen, closed
off by huge double doors.  Inside sat Chase in front of an elaborate round
table. Hundreds of lit candles and white tulips surrounded the room. When the
doors shut behind us, the racket from the kitchen became muted. Chase stood up
with a concerned look on his face.

“Everything okay, Randall?”

The big man glared in the direction of the kitchen and placed
his hands behind his body. “One of the staff workers almost knocked into Miss.
Bardot. I was able to move her in time and contain the situation.”

“Take care of him,” Chase said angrily. Randall nodded in
agreement and left the room. I cocked my head to the side because I wasn’t sure
if Chase had just asked Randall to get the cook fired or kill him.  Neither, I
hoped.

Chase stood up and walked over to me.  He gave me a
devious smile before looking me up and down.

“Love the shirt,” he told me. I laughed as I stared down at
the old shirt.

“Thanks, it was…” I let my voice trail off. This shirt had
belonged to Bash, but I didn’t want to talk about him right now. I don’t know
why I  wore something like this on a date. It wasn’t tasteful.  Maybe wearing
something that belonged to Bash reminded me that I wasn’t emotionally available
for a relationship. Whatever the reason, I now regretted putting it on. I noted
Chase’s attire.  He was dressed in a pair of slacks with a dark sports coat.
The dress was obviously more upscale than I’d realized. Why hadn’t I asked about
the dress code for the restaurant? Oh that’s right because I’d been too busy
puking my guts out all day. Lucky for him, I left out that tidbit of
information.

“You look nice.  I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a
formal dinner,” I told him. I pulled the ball cap from my head and shook my
brown hair out along my shoulders.

“It’s okay. This is a private room for VIP guests. We can get
in and out without anyone seeing us.” He walked over to the second chair and
pulled it out for me.

 “I believe dating etiquette requires that I pull out your
chair and compliment you,” he said with a wink. I sat down in the chair and
pushed it closer against the table. He took the seat right next to me. Our
elbows were almost touching and it caused chills to run up and down my spine.

“Thank you,” I told him.

“So,” I began, “do you always have a bodyguard?”

He shook his head. “Only when I travel, but I wanted to make
sure you were safe tonight.”

“I see.”

“I’ve never been on a real date before,” Chase confessed. I
raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by his honesty.

“Never?”

“Nope.  I’ve been in show business since I was ten. I have
engagements and publicity dates, but I usually skip past the dates and go
straight for the bedroom.”

“Publicity dates? Like the other day? You and the blonde girl?”

“Chloe? Yeah we start shooting a movie together soon.” There
was so much I didn’t know about him. Where did he grow up? Where was he
shooting this movie? What was his favorite color?

“What about you?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“When’s the last time you were on a first date?”

I didn’t want to answer the question. If I told him, he may
start to ask questions. I kept it vague. He’d find out eventually, but I didn’t
want that to be today.

“Oh, it’s been a while.”

“Define awhile.”

“Five years…give or take.”

“Five years?”

“I dated the same guy all through high school,” I explained.

His eyes flare up in jealousy, but he quickly calmed down.

“I see, and where is this lucky guy now?”

“Dead.” My voice was flat only because I hated talking about
him. Right then, it wasn’t as hard as it normally was, possibly because Chase never
met Bash and he wouldn’t pick sides.  I didn’t intend to tell Chase the
truth, but it just popped out.
Who is this man and why am I spilling my
secrets to him?

He mumbled something along the lines of an apology and we sat
in an awkward silence for a few moments.

“Shit,” he said “Dating etiquette also said we weren’t
supposed to bring up exes on a first date,” 

I laughed at his comment, impressed that he had done a bit of
research on dating.

  “Did you read a book or something?” I asked.

“No a self-help app on my phone. It’s for singles over the
age of fifty who are back in the dating scene, see?” He held his phone up and
sure enough dozens of little first date dos and don’ts flashed on the
application.

“Impressive.”

“Damn straight. I like to do things right.” He beamed proudly
flashing his pearly whites at me.

I boldly grabbed his phone from his hand and started to read
off some of the tips.

“Never….tell a dark secret. Keep personal demons
inside….never sleep with someone on the first date.”

I handed the phone back to him and blew out a breath of air.

“Well it looks like we have started off on the wrong foot,” I
told him.

A younger girl with red hair came in the room to take our
order. Chase ordered us a few appetizers while we read over the menu. While we
waited, I kept looking up at him from over my menu to see what he was
doing.  When he caught me looking, he winked.  It was enough to make the
bottom of my stomach flip around. This feeling, whatever it was, hadn’t been
around in a long time.

“Are you concerned with the waitress talking to the
tabloids?” I asked him. I wasn’t sure how this celebrity thing went.

“No, the staff have a confidentiality agreement. She won’t
say anything.” The server came back with a bottle of wine and poured
it into both of our cups.

“I can’t drink,” I reminded him. 

 He reached across the small table and grabbed my glass.

“No problem, I’ll drink yours.” He raised his hand to have the
server bring me some water. He was trying so hard, and it was charming. At the
same time, I wasn’t sure I could keep up and put the same effort into this
relationship. Once the server was gone, I leaned forward to speak to him.

“I just want you to know, there isn’t any pressure. We don’t
have to do this. If you aren’t having a good time, we can go our separate ways.”

He sighed loudly and slammed his menu down in front of him.
“Listen, I’m trying so hard to do the right thing here. I tried to call you
after that night. You ignored my calls. Ginger practically all but told me you
had a boyfriend. I don’t date, Quinn. That isn’t me, but I am willing to try
this. From the moment you stood there in that short black dress and those dirty
old high-tops, I knew you were special.  I never pushed you away. You’re the
one who won’t let me try.”

I was speechless. His confession had my heart racing. I
swallowed through the hard lump in my throat and lifted my eyes to look at him.
His warm brown eyes were sincere, and he had a slow and sexy smile on his face.
He was offering me things I didn’t think I wanted, but in the back of my mind,
I was afraid of ‘us’.

“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me,” I
whispered shaking my head.

“I know that something keeps drawing me back to you. I don’t
know what it is, but I’m willing to find out. Aren’t you?”

I shouldn’t have even been entertaining the idea. Run, that
should’ve been the first thing on my mind. This attraction to Chase was
undeniable and no matter how scared or unavailable my heart was, I wanted to
feel the same way I had with him that night. That night was the first time I’d actually
felt anything in so long. My heart didn’t feel numb around him.

“Let’s just see how things go,” I told him. I wasn’t ready to
commit, but I wasn’t ready to let him go yet either. He seemed to accept my
answer because he gave me another small wink before the server brought us our
food and then quickly scurried from the room.

“We can do this, Quinn. We can keep our relationship on the
down low. It’ll be just you, me, and our baby.” He placed his hand on my lower
stomach. This was the first time he had acknowledged my pregnancy since I got
there, and his reassurance soothed my nerves. With him by my side, I didn’t
feel so alone in this.

We spent the next hour or so talking about everything except
our relationship and impending baby. He was twenty-three and had dreamt of
being an actor since he was eight. We had a lot in common too. We both loved
music and art shows. Our parents were divorced, we were both an only child, and
we had grown up in small towns.

“My parent’s never had a chance,” he explained. “My mom lived
in LA with me ten months out of the year to further my acting career. It wasn’t
a good foundation for a marriage, so I wasn’t too surprised when they set me
down at age ten and told me they were splitting up. By the time my father got
around to telling my mom he wanted a divorce, he had a completely new family.
Never gave my mom a lick of child support. That bastard.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You know that right? I’m sure your
parents would have gotten a divorce whether or not you wanted to become an
actor.”

“You sound like a psychiatrist,” he said with a laugh.

If he only knew.

 
“Nah, just insightful.”

“I know firsthand how hard it is to be a single mom. That’s
why you need to let me help. After my parents divorced, I never really saw my
dad. My mami and I are close though. She’s a wonderful woman.” He smiled with a
wistful look in his eye when he talked about his mom.

“Mami?”

“Oh, just a nickname I use for her sometimes. My mom’s
originally from Columbia.”