I had no deodorant, and hadn't seen any in the basket. I was mortified at the idea of asking Lawton for some. And, given my plans for the evening, the last thing I wanted to do was to clean myself up only to go to Lawton smelling like a locker-room. Sure, he'd probably smelled more than his share of locker-rooms over the years, but I was fairly certain he didn't consider it a particularly erotic experience.
I'd taken a couple steps toward the open window when I stopped short at the sound of male voices. They sounded like they were coming from somewhere outside the house.
Clutching my towel, I edged closer to the window. The voices grew more distinct, and I peered outside to see if I could identify the source.
By the light of the moon, I made out the vague shapes of patio furniture, along with the big outdoor fireplace I'd noticed on the way in. But I didn't see any people.
And yet, I could hear the voices clearly now. I recognized them, too. It was Lawton and Bishop. Since I couldn’t see them, I figured they were standing next to the house – too close for me to see without sticking my head out the window. I had no plans of doing that any time soon.
I'd just turned away to return to the bathroom when something stopped me dead in my tracks. And that something was my name.
Chapter 27
Clutching the towel just a little bit tighter, I stood, listening. Apparently, they were talking about me. A better person would've kept moving. I should've kept moving. But I didn't. I couldn't. Instead, I turned back to the window, edging closer until I stood right beside it.
Bishop's tone was mocking. "So she just falls over your fence, and you're not suspicious?"
"Shut up," Lawton said with half a laugh. "She's no Brandy Blue. She's my neighbor, for God's sake."
"Yeah? Like Brandy was just a cocktail waitress."
Brandy Blue. That name rang a bell. Brandy Blue, Brandy Blue. And then it hit me. That was the name of the girl who starred with Lawton in that sex tape.
I tried to remember what else I'd read. She'd gone on to do a couple of horror flicks and a short-lived stint on a doctor drama. And there was something else. Wasn't she the so-called starlet that Lawton had left stranded in a Beverly Hills bathroom?
I didn't know her, but I already hated her.
"Listen," Lawton said, the laughter gone. "You compare Chloe to Brandy one more time –" He paused. "Just don't, alright?"
"Listen to yourself," Bishop said. "What are you gonna do? Kick my ass?"
"Do I need to?" Lawton said.
"I'd like to see you try," Bishop said. "I know you don't want to hear this. But she's trouble."
I felt my jaw clench. What was up with that guy? Why did he hate me so much? I'd only just met him. Of course, I hated him too, but he started it.
"You're so full of it," Lawton said.
"I'm telling you," Bishop said, "she's hiding something."
"Yeah? Or maybe," Lawton said, "she's just a nice girl from a nice family, and the concept is so fuckin' foreign to you that you can't stop yourself from being a dick about it."
I nodded. Way to tell him, Lawton.
"A nice girl from a nice family?" Bishop said, his voice laden with scorn. "What are you gonna do? Put up a picket fence?"
"Fuck off. Just because you're still pissed about your little fortune-teller – "
"That's not it."
"Whatever," Lawton said. "Just don't take your shit out on me. Or more to the point, don't take it out on Chloe. Got it?"
"No."
"For fuck's sake," Lawton said, "what's gotten into you?
Bishop was quiet for a couple of beats. Then he answered, his voice oddly quiet. "Nothing."
