I had recovered from my initial mortification at being caught in such a compromising position by Trip’s publicist/assistant. While I was breaking from his arms and smoothing my hair and suit back into place, he didn’t seem embarrassed at all, leading me to believe that the scene Sandy walked in on wasn’t so uncommon. For them at least. I knew that she was probably being paid as much for her ability to keep her mouth shut as she was for her skills as an assistant, so I didn’t worry about our little indiscretion going public.
I was feeling overwhelmingly guilty about my kissing mishap. I didn’t even know what it would have done to Devin. Not that I would have ever told him, but even if he found out, I hoped that he’d be able to shrug the entire matter off like it was the non-event that it was. As jealous as he was about some things, he was also egotistical enough that my momentary lapse in judgment might have been treated as nothing more than an amusing little misadventure.
Something about that just pissed me right off, and I found myself getting irrationally angry at an unsuspecting Devin for his unlikely response to the imaginary scenario that played out in my head. Where did he get off?
When I started thinking about my afternoon debauchery, I found myself getting worked up all over again.
I had to call Lisa.
I grabbed my cell phone and punched in the number I knew by heart.
She answered on the first ring. “I can’t believe you made me wait until nine freakin’ o’clock for your call!”
I laughed and answered, “Yeah, sorry. I had a lot to process afterward.”
“Just shut up and tell me what happened. How did he look?”
“Hot, dammit. Just as hot as he is onscreen. The cameras don’t lie.”
“Yum.”
“Yeah, well, if you think he’s hot in his movies, try being in the same room with him.”
“That bad, huh.”
“Worse.”
The tone of my voice and my following silence conveyed my confession.
Lisa took a breath and said, “Oh, no. You didn’t. I thought you knew I was only kidding!”
“No!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t do that,” I emphasized, trying to sound haughty at the fact that at least I hadn’t slept with him. “But... he did kiss me.”
“Wait. Like, kissed you, or, you know... kissed you?”
“The second one,” I said, even still trying to downplay what had happened between us back in that hotel room.
“Layla! You have a fiancé!”
“So does he.”
“Oh, shit.”
I wanted to tell her it was no big deal. I wanted to blow off the kiss, which probably meant a whole lot more to me than it did to him anyway. But I also really needed to sort out everything that had happened. I needed to get it out so that I could put it behind me and move on.
“Lis, please don’t judge me. I’m already beating myself up enough for the both of us. I just really need to talk about this.”
“Judge you? Oh, hell no. I wasn’t judging you. I want details!”
I laughed in spite of my remorse and said, “Well, good, because you’re about to get them.”
I relayed the day’s events, every single moment between my orderly shower that morning and my complete loss of control in Trip’s arms that afternoon. Lisa was a rapt audience, only gasping with shock every now and then or interjecting with an occasional, “Oh my God!”
As I got to the part when Sandy walked in, she said, “Oh no!”
“Oh, yes. I almost died, Lis, I swear. There I was, trying to look all innocent—obviously failing miserably—but Sandy barely even flinched.”
“What did Trip do?”
“Laughed.”
“Shut up!”
“Yeah. It was a bit of a rude awakening.”
“Like, it wasn’t the first time his assistant caught him mauling some poor, unsuspecting girl.”
“Exactly. They were both all business after that, Sandy handing me some legalese in a blue folder and Trip shaking my hand all formal, thanking me for the interview.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, no. I mean, he was smirking as he did it, busting my chops, and Sandy just shot him a look like she’d be laying into him later, but still.”
“But still. So, then they just left?”
I told her yes, and started to get into how I hit the video store on the way home, when I heard the unmistakable beep of a call breaking through the line. “Hey, Lis, hang on a sec. Call waiting.”
She said, “Sure,” and I clicked over to my other call.
I’d barely said hello before a woman’s voice launched in. “Layla? It’s Sandy Carron. Trip’s publicist?”
I had a strange teenage flashback. It’s unsettling when you feel like you just got caught talking behind someone’s back. But I said, “Oh. Hi, Sandy,” wondering what prompted her call.
Her voice was halting and I could tell she was trying to sound calm. “I’m sorry to bother you at home. But there’s been an accident on the set.”
“Accident?”
“Yes. Trip’s been hurt.” My stomach dropped as she continued, “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I thought you’d want to know. He’s at Beth Israel Hospital downtown, and, well, he could really use a friend right about now.”
My mind was swimming, but I know I managed to thank Sandy for calling before clicking back over to Lisa.
“Lis?”
“Jesus, I was just about ready to hang up. Whadja forget me?”
“That was Sandy, Trip’s publicist. She said there was some sort of accident on the set. He’s been hurt.”