“Stu—”
“Here’s what we’re going to do, Ben. I’ll call Mary and have her fly to New York. She’ll sit down with you and figure out a way to spin this so that you don’t look like a complete jerk. But first we need to call off the cops and tell them Mr. Movie Star is alive and well. Capiche?”
“You’re not Italian, Stu, but yes, that sounds good. As for Mary, tell her to stay in LA. There’s nothing to spin here.”
“Are you insane?”
Ben gripped the receiver so tightly he feared it might shatter into a million little pieces. “I’m not insane. I’m just tired. I’m tired of being hounded and harassed and I haven’t slept in a week, Stu. So go ahead and tell the police to call off their investigation, but don’t expect me to make a solitary public appearance to explain this ridiculous story the press has yet again concocted.”
“So what, you’re just going to fuel the fire by disappearing off the face of the earth?” Stu demanded, sounding angrier than ever.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to disappear, Stu. You wanted me to lay low, well, I’ll lay low. I’m not answering any calls, I’m not meeting with Mary or anyone from the PR firm. In fact, I’m not doing a fucking thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Ben Barrett is officially out of the limelight. For how long, I don’t know. But I’m done, Stu. If I don’t get some peace and quiet I’ll end up in a nuthouse, so placate the cops, say whatever you want to the reporters and leave me the hell alone. Capiche?”
“Bye, Maggie!”
Maggie smiled at the two little girls standing in the doorway before signing out at the community center where she volunteered. She waved at the counselor who doubled as a receptionist, gave each of the giggling girls by the door a big hug goodbye and stepped through the double doors leading outside.
Finally alone, she let out the weary sigh that had been lodged in her chest all afternoon.
Considering she’d gotten a grand total of three hours sleep last night, she probably should’ve skipped volunteering and stayed in bed, but as usual, her sometimes-irritating sense of responsibility prevented her from being lazy.
Her work at the Joshua Broger Community Center was too important, and she knew the kids were always disappointed when she didn’t show up—which was rare. Most of the children who came to the center lived in foster homes, and having been a part of the foster system for thirteen years of her life, Maggie only wished she’d had a place like the Broger Center to visit. Somewhere to get help with her homework, or talk to a counselor, or just spend some time with other children her age.
Volunteering, she felt like she was making a difference. And she was. She knew that.
But she also wished she could make a difference and get paid for it at the same time.
The bottom line—she was tired. Exhausted. No, so past exhausted she felt like an extra from a zombie movie.
It certainly didn’t help that instead of getting her quick Tony fix, she’d just ended up more frustrated than she’d been to begin with.
She’d considered taking that vibrator Summer had given her out of its unopened box, but somehow the idea of turning to a plastic male organ wasn’t too appealing. Not when she’d been so close to having the real thing.
With a stranger.
Right. Who could forget that?
Who could forget him? a little voice teased.
Definitely not her. Oh no, instead of banishing the embarrassing memories from her mind, Maggie had stayed up half the night thinking about her mysterious bad boy. If she were a braver woman, she might have stuck around and coyly suggested they enjoy a few rounds of anonymous sex. At least then she wouldn’t have spent the night lying in bed, frustrated and aching for release.
Sighing again, Maggie approached the curb and focused on flagging down a taxi and leaving Harlem.
She found a cab fairly quickly, though the drive across town wasn’t as quick. She was two minutes late when the taxi driver maneuvered out of lane-to-lane Saturday evening traffic and finally crept to a stop in front of the Olive. She handed the man a couple of bills, then hurried inside and made her way across the bar toward the doors leading to the employees’ lounge.
“Hey, Trish,” she called to the brunette behind the counter.
The second she saw her, Trisha dropped the receipts in her hands and dashed over. “Maggie, walk faster,” she hissed.
As Trisha grabbed her arm and practically dragged her through the back corridor, Maggie looked at her with wide eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“Just move.”
Trisha pushed open the door to the lounge, staying on Maggie’s heels as she headed for the small bank of lockers at the far end of the room. Spinning the combination lock, Maggie pulled open the locker and shot her co-worker a sideways glance.
“Well?”