As a result, I’m shopping on Rodeo Drive, trying to find some cute panties to buy. Clients on Panty Time are really getting into the whole naughty schoolgirl thing after I snapped a couple of pictures with a pleated mini skirt, so I’ve been trying to take a lot of pictures wearing innocent white lingerie. I don’t know if Bruce has been putting them up, but I’ve been sending them to him as my part of the deal. After all, maybe the CEO and I aren’t involved anymore, but again, business is the business, and I need to keep my head on straight.
I’m walking out of a boutique, my arms loaded with bags, when I bump into Tom Benning. To my surprise, he’s the one who recognizes me. Obviously I’m embarrassed about my snafu at the premiere from a couple weeks ago, but he doesn’t seem fazed at all. Hell, he even hugs me, a bright smile on his face.
Flash!
A bright light makes it hard to see. I blink, and that’s when I see a photographer snapping a picture, with a camera held up to his face.
Tom actually poses for a bit, angling our bodies towards the paparazzi. But then his grin deepens as he slings his arm around my shoulders, guiding me down the sidewalk. “Katie, isn’t it? It’s good to see you again. I’m Tom.”
I stammer. “Um, yes, hi. So nice to see you again.”
He grins again, pulling me closer to his athletic form.
“So given that you’re in love with me already, what do you think about grabbing some dinner together?”
“Dinner?” I gape, looking like a fish out of water. I have to be dreaming or something. Movie stars don’t just come out of nowhere and ask you out on a date.
“Um, are you sure? With me?” Oh my god, I could kick myself with how lame I sound.
“Of course, who else?” he grins again, waving at the photogs still trailing us. Don’t they unsettle him? Evidently not because they wave back, and then snap a couple more photos.
But what do I have to lose from dinner? Bruce made it totally clear that we’re through, so I’m technically a single woman about town. Why not? It could be fun.
“Um, okay, I guess. Sure. When were you thinking?”
“Tonight,” he says with a flashing grin. Gosh, his teeth are so white that they look unreal. But I guess it translates to the big screen naturally.
“Um, tonight? Really?” I ask, still somewhat taken aback.
“Mm-hm, is that okay?” he says, nodding. His eyes aren’t looking at me because believe it or not, he’s still pandering to the paparazzi like they’re his best friends.
“Oh okay, I don’t have anything planned.”
This time, Tom swings around and meets my eyes.
“Perfect,” he announces. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Now one more photo and I’ll see you later okay?”
The cameras flash, almost blinding me once more.
After that meeting, we started sort-of dating, I guess is what you can call it. We’ve been out a couple times, and I know a lot of gossip magazines have picked up the story and are now calling me his “unidentified girlfriend.” It seems a little early for that, but I guess they’re just trying to sell stories.
Finally, I find the earrings I’ve been looking for this whole time. I pop them in just as my phone starts to buzz, sliding along my vanity.
I snatch it up before it can fall off the edge and answer it. “Hello?”
“I’m here,” Tom’s slightly nasally voice comes through the line. “Come out to my car.” This must be movie magic too – just like his teeth, his voice must project in a different way to the big screen.
“Oh, okay,” I answer. “Be out in a second.”
Click.
He hangs up the call, and I can’t help but think that if it were Bruce, he’d come into my apartment and escort me to the car because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.
No, stop thinking about Bruce, the voice in the back of my head reprimands in. Tonight’s about Tom.
Right. I nod in agreement, grab my jacket, and head outside.
On the street is a black Maserati. The windows are tinted so that I can’t see who’s sitting behind the wheel of the car.
Is it Tom?
There is no way for me to know for sure.
Hesitantly, I pull on the door handle. And that’s another thing – if Bruce were here, he would have opened the door for me.
Wait. Now that I think about, he always opened every door for me. He truly was a gentleman, at least in that regard.
Tom, on the other hand, is falling short on impressing me, the way he kind of always falls short on our dates.
“Ah, there you are,” comes a voice.
I jump, nearly losing my balance. When I turn around, I spot Tom leaning against a light post, smoking a cigarette. Evidently, he didn’t come up to my apartment because he wanted a nicotine break. Okay. I crinkle my nose in disgust and try not to breathe. I hate the smell of cigarettes, but I’m not about to tell him that because it seems uncool, even if my lungs are straining for air. I force myself to smile.
