“They’re saying that you’re missing, and that your family has no idea where you are. You need to come home now, Lane. The longer this goes on, the bigger the story gets. Mom and Dad want to know if you’re OK. They’ve already called our lawyer, and they hired a publicist.”
Delaney nearly laughed at that. Or she would have if she could breathe. They’d tried to hire a spin doctor as soon as Boyd’s video surfaced but Delaney had thought she could work this out on her own. She’d thought a little break from the spotlight would be all it took for this story to go away. Obviously that wasn’t the case. And now that the police and lawyers were involved? Fuck.
“Which lawyer did they call?” she asked, pressing a thumb to her lip.
“Tony, I think.”
“All right. First, tell Mom and Dad I’m fine, because I am. Then tell Tony to call the police and tell them I’m fine. He can play the lawyer confidentiality card or whatever, but I want to make sure the police understand I’m not missing. I’m hiding, but that’s not a crime. And as far as the publicist goes? God, I don’t know. Maybe she should make a statement that the car belonged to a different Delaney Masterson or something. There must be more than one of us around.”
“You are freaking me out right now.”
“I’m not trying to, but you guys are all overreacting. The truth is I can’t do anything about this right now. If I call the police, they’re going to want to ask me a bunch of questions, and I’m not in a position to talk to them at the moment. If I do, Grant and his family will get dragged into this too, and there will be no way to keep the whole mess from the paparazzi. They’ll end up in the news right alongside me, and I will look like an even bigger fool than I did with just the sex tape.”
She’d meant to lower her voice when she said sex tape but apparently she’d only made it slightly more strident.
Asian Elvis lowered his gold sunglasses and stared at her above the rim. Note to self: never say sex tape in a crowded hotel lobby.
“Why can’t you just get on a frickin’ airplane and come home?”
“Because I don’t have any money! Or my wallet, or my ID, Melody. All that stuff got stolen with my phone, so I couldn’t book a flight and get on a plane even if I wanted to.”
“Everything got stolen?” Alarm bells were sounding but Delaney was determined to curtail the drama.
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that sooner, but I didn’t want you to worry.” That was partly true, but the other part was she knew Melody couldn’t keep a secret, and the last thing Delaney wanted was for this to become another episode of Pop Rocks. “Please help me out here, Mel, and tell everyone I’m totally fine.”
Melody scoffed into the phone. “I think fine is a pretty strong word. I am legitimately concerned about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m actually . . . I’m kind of having fun.”
“Fun?”
Delaney hadn’t realized it until just then but . . . yes. This was fun. It was fun because Grant was here, and everyone was being nice, and no one expected anything from her. She wasn’t performing in front of a camera for a nameless, faceless audience. She wasn’t trying to cater to her family’s needs. She wasn’t trying to impress her Beverly Hills clients. She was just . . . being herself. And she liked it.
“Yes. I’m having fun.”
“God damn it, Delaney. It’s time to come home. This shit is getting serious.”
Deep down, she knew it was. Her problems weren’t going to disappear just because she had. They were multiplying. She was Dorothy with the flying monkeys circling her head, but no simple heel-clicking would fix all this. She had to fix it herself. She took a great big breath.
“I know I do. And I will, soon. I should have my wallet back in a couple of days, and as soon as I do, I’ll come home, talk to the police, I’ll do whatever the damn publicist wants me to. OK? I just need a couple more days.”
“You have no money at all? And no ID? How are you managing?”
“I’m managing just fine.”
“There is that word again. I’m not sure you know what the word even means. Just put yourself in my shoes, Lane. I don’t know exactly where you are, and you’ve obviously put your trust in some total stranger. I don’t even know his last name. All I know is his cell phone number.”
Delaney had put her trust in him. It had been easy. Trusting men hadn’t typically worked out in her favor, but Grant wasn’t like most men. She didn’t really know how she knew that, but she just did. Down deep in her heart, where it mattered the most.
“His name is Grant Connelly and we’re at the Heartbreak Hotel.”
“The Heartbreak Hotel?”
“Yes. In the Burning Love Suite.”
“The Burning Love Suite?” Melody’s voice went from surprised to dubious.
“Yes.”