“It’s eleven fifteen in New York and . . .”
I backed up until I was out of earshot.
Hancock Park was a pretty big neighborhood, so I hadn’t given away too much. I forgot about it soon after we started work.
I got the entire troupe on board with the new moves, and after a few tweaks, we had it ready for Darlene to do with Simon.
Carter showed up after lunch. I couldn’t help but look for him. At one point, coming off a spin, I caught him looking at me while his boss was talking to him.
He didn’t have business on his mind. His gaze was so intense and heated, I nearly fell over. It went on like that. His presence in the corner was a gravitational force. The world spun around us, but we pinned it with centripetal force until I felt as if everything spun but he and I were still points in the center. My body was aware of his attention and the spin around us, and my nipples got as hard as my underwear got damp.
Which was disorienting, to say the least.
“Five minutes!” I called, snapping up my towel and heading for the water station.
Simon met me there. “Good moves.”
“Thank you.”
“Too hard,” Darlene said, stretching her arms. “I don’t know who you think I am or where you come up with this shit.”
“All in her head yesterday afternoon.” Simon dropped a lemon peel in his water.
“I had help.” I waved to Carter, who was looking at me again. He wasn’t even my security personnel guy, but he watched me as if he were recording every move. “If he can do it, you guys can.”
Simon’s eyes went wide, and he looked Carter up and down. “That hunk of man can dance?”
“Well . . .” I didn’t want to insult Carter, but I didn’t want to put him in a position to have to prove himself either.
“Hey!” Darlene called out. “Mr. Hancock Park! You can dance?”
Carter had started toward us after the first “Hey,” but at the mention of his neighborhood, the smile on his face disappeared into a thin, lipless line.
“I can’t dance.”
“He can lift.”
“I’ve been told I can lift.”
Our comic timing was perfect, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was, in fact, avoiding my gaze as if I were Medusa.
I glanced at my watch. “Bathroom. Thirty seconds.”
“See you back there,” Simon said.
I trotted off to the back bathroom, hoping Carter would follow. I could clear the air with him and pee in forty seconds, get back to the floor, and make centripetal force with him the rest of the afternoon.
But no. He didn’t follow me in, and when I was done, he wasn’t waiting outside. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. In the studio, watching over his principal.
For the rest of the afternoon, I was distracted and leaden. I couldn’t catch a rhythm. I was impatient with the front line, and my lungs didn’t seem to have enough room for a full breath. The gravitational force was shattered, and I felt unfastened to the earth. It didn’t feel free like flying. It didn’t feel secure like doing lifts with him. It just felt as if my feet were off the floor because I was in the middle of tripping over it.
We broke for dinner. Everyone was staying late. We all had too much to learn in too little time. I didn’t know how I was going to make it another few hours.
“Fabian,” I said when I saw him come in, “I need to go home.”
I knew I sounded mad. I was mad, but not at him. Not at the world. I didn’t know if I was mad at myself or Carter or neither. I was mad because I felt insecure, and I hated feeling insecure. I’d worked too hard to kill self-doubt, and here I was resuscitating it.
“Let me get the car, then.”
He left without asking another question, and good for him. Because I would have taken his face right off for poking in my business.
“Are you coming back?” Carter’s voice came from behind me.
“Why?” I got my shoes on without looking at him.
“Because Carlos needs to know how to allocate staff. That’s why.”
“I’m going to feed the cat.”
He walked away without responding, which was absolutely unacceptable.
“The cat you wanted,” I snarled. He stopped. Good. The lines of his suit shoulders to the tight triangle of his waist stood straight and still, while his neck bent back and he looked at the ceiling.
“I can’t have a cat,” he said.
“Why not?”
He came toward me. Everyone was eating catered dinner, so we were alone in the little alcove to the door.
“None of your business.”
“Phin’s allergic?” I guessed, and from his expression, I knew I’d gotten it right.
“Did you tell her about him?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I didn’t mention your son. I said you lived in a house in Hancock Park. I did not give street name or occupants. I changed the subject. If you’re mad, just say you’re mad.”
“This life your friend lives? It’s insane. It’s not normal. Did you know she has a fan group on Facebook that tracks her every move? Did you know a bunch of them tried to rent the upstairs floor so they could watch her? Do you know how many of them fantasize about killing her while they fuck her? I do. There are some sick people out there, and they know her security detail knows where she is before she’s there. Don’t you think one of them’s crazy enough to find my son and use him to get to her?”
I swallowed hard. I swallowed the defensive reaction that would put him on the offense. I swallowed the denials that would keep me from hearing him. I swallowed an apology he wasn’t ready for.
He continued at a low growl. “I’ve busted my ass to keep him separate. I’ve done everything to make sure he was the number-one priority. I’m not going to get distracted, and I don’t need a leak right now.”
“I’m not a leak.”
“Yes. You are. You’re a leak. You leak information, and when I’m with you, I leak self-control.”
I didn’t have anything else to swallow. My throat was full.
“That’s on you.” I kept my voice low but pointed. “If you don’t want anyone to know you live in Hancock Park or Los Angeles or fucking planet Earth, then you need to tell me explicitly what you want hidden and why. This retroactive bullshit does not fly.”
Fabian opened the door. “Ready?”
Carter set his mouth back into a tight line. “She’s ready.” He walked away with his jaw set against further discussion.
I went home to feed the fucking cat.
CHAPTER 31
CARTER
When Darlene announced my neighborhood, I wanted to hurl myself at her in slow motion and clamp my hand over her mouth. But it was too late, and I wasn’t living in an action movie.
So I seethed like it was my job. I finished up my shift, watching Emily leave with Fabian, checking through the window to make sure she got in the car okay, as if that were my job too. Which it wasn’t. Darlene was my job, and she was a lot tougher to watch than her choreographer.
At a West Hollywood restaurant, I stood outside the private room Darlene’s manager had gotten for a late dinner. I was a spectacle in my stillness and seriousness. People looked at me in the crowded dining room, wondering who was on the other side of the door.