Julie sputters, leaning back in her booth. “Of course not! Why would you even say that, babe?”
Briar sighs and holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
“What? No—”
“Fine.” Briar leans over and knocks on the glass window. The paps outside all jump. She points at one, a short guy wearing a baseball cap, and waves for him to come inside. I stiffen slightly, priming for action, but mostly I’m just amused. This should be fun to watch.
The bell rings as the guy enters the café, looking nervously at Cricket, but I wave him over to our table. He stands awkwardly next to us, shifting on his feet.
“Hello.” Briar smiles up at him. “I’m Briar.”
He looks at her like she’s an idiot. “Uh. Yeah. I know.”
“What’s your name?”
“Roger.”
“Well, Roger, I was just wondering how you knew I was going to be here, today.”
He blinks. “We got a tip-off. Like, ninety-nine percent of our photos, of any celebrity, are from tip-offs.”
“Who from?”
“Just some lady that works for you. She calls us, sometimes.” He eyes me nervously. I raise an eyebrow, and he drops his gaze, flushing.
“What was her name?” Briar presses.
“Don’t remember.”
“And how did this woman contact you?”
He lifts up his phone.
“Do me a favour,” Briar turns to face Julie, who is shrinking back into her seat like a cornered animal. “Call her back.”
“Right. Yeah.” He fumbles with his phone. A high-pitched jangle starts blaring from Julie’s bag. I take a massive gulp of coffee, sitting back to enjoy the show.
“Don’t you want to pick that up?” Briar asks mildly.
Colour flushes Julie’s face. “Fine,” she snaps. “Fine. Yes. I’ve been giving paparazzi tip-offs. It’s like the kid says; everyone does it. Any good PR manager would.”
Briar glances up at Roger. “Thank you. Could you wait outside?”
“Um… Could I…” He lifts his camera hopefully.
“When we get outside, I’ll give you some really good ones,” she promises. He looks a bit disappointed, but Cricket is already cracking his knuckles, so he makes a hasty exit.
Briar turns back to her PR manager, her expression cold. “You know that’s how X was finding me, right? He was just following the paparazzi. Because of you, he knew what restaurants I was going to. What hotel I was staying at. It’s how he recognised and followed our car. God, I bet it wasn’t even Rodriguez who leaked the break-in story, was it? It was you.”
She looks a bit chastised, but mostly defensive. “I didn’t know he was going to try and kidnap you, did I? Look, babe—you have to understand. It’s really hard to stay relevant in this industry. You just turned twenty-nine. That’s almost thirty.”
“I know. Practically an old crone.”
“You may as well be,” she snaps. “We all know women age like milk in Hollywood. You’re already losing traction.”
“So?”
“So, the stalker angle was bringing you interest, keeping you relevant. I just wanted to make sure you made the most of that, by being seen.”
Something in Briar snaps. She slams her juice glass on the table. “Cut the crap! This isn’t about me! If it were about me, you would have, I don’t know, tried to keep me alive? This is about you, and your percentage cut. I lose public favour, you lose money. That’s it. We both know it, so don’t bullshit me.”
Julie leans back in her chair, chewing her gum hard. Her cheeks are red.
Briar sighs. “Look, I’m glad I met you. Because you—inadvertently, whilst trying to save your ass—introduced me to some people who really, truly care about me. But I don’t want to surround myself with people who see me as a paycheck instead of a person.”
Julie sneers, her glossy lips stretching. “You don’t want your hired staff to see you as a paycheck? Good luck finding someone.”
“I actually already have someone in mind.” Briar gives me a little smile. “It’s over, Julie. You’re fired. I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really, really not.”
Julie doesn’t move.
“You can leave, now,” Briar prompts.
Julie purses her lips, her eyes flicking between us, then to the paps outside. I can see her mind running at a mile a minute, trying to find a way to convince Briar to let her stay.
“Babe—” she starts.
“No. Go.”
“Would you like me to escort her out?” I ask mildly. Heat flushes Julie’s face. She stands and shoves her notebook into her bag.
“You’ll be sorry for this,” she mutters. “Just wait and see. Without me, you’ll fall out of the public eye faster than you can bloody blink.” She tosses the bag over her shoulder and marches to the café door.
“Bye, babe,” Briar calls after her. Julie gives us one last glare, then slams the door shut, the little welcome bell tinkling.
There’s a few beats of silence, then I pull her untouched bowl towards us and divvy up the melon slices onto both our plates. “Nicely done,” I murmur approvingly. Briar looks down, a wide smile spreading across her face.
When we step back out onto the sunny street, our stomachs full to bursting, the photographers are ready and waiting. Before I’ve even shut the café door, they start snapping away, coming to our left side to get a good shot of Briar’s stitched-up cheek. I tighten my grip on her, trying to block the lenses as I hurry her along, but she digs in her heels.
“No,” she says. I watch as she catches Roger’s eye and points to a spot on her other side. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but now isn’t the time.
“Come on,” I scowl at the clamouring photographers. “Christ, they’re all bloody vultures.” I pull her gently away, trying to ignore the sweet scent of her shampoo as her hair tickles my face. This is probably the last time I’ll ever be this close to her.
She tugs at my arm. “Stop. Kenta, stop.”
I still, and she reaches up to cup my cheek, turning me to face her.
I frown. “Briar, what—”
Before I can protest, she goes up on her tiptoes and brushes her lips against mine. My heart practically stops in my chest.
This isn’t like any of our other kisses. It’s soft and sweet and gentle, so quick I barely feel it. When she pulls away, I stare at her, breathing hard. The paps are shouting and running around us, trying to get a better angle, but I ignore them. My hand unconsciously clenches on Briar’s waist, like I’m trying to keep her close to me. “What… was that for, sweetheart?”
She shrugs. “I just remembered. I’ve only been photographed kissing Glen and Matt. I don’t want the magazines to get the wrong impression and think I’m only in love with two of you.”
I’m not even walking, but I still almost trip over my own feet. “In love?” I manage eventually.
“Madly, I’m afraid,” she says, tilting her head. “Are you going to pass out?”
I stammer. “But… Matt and Glen…”
She sighs dramatically. “I guess Goss magazine was right all along. I’m a massive hoe-bag. But I don’t just whore out my body, I whore out my heart.” She shakes her head sorrowfully. “It’s embarrassing. I spend so long keeping men at a distance, then three of you seduce me at once. It’s kind of ruining my ice-queen reputation.” I don’t say anything. I don’t think I can. I think I’ve temporarily forgotten English.
She sighs, stroking my cheek. “Kenta. You are one of the smartest, kindest, most loving men I’ve ever met. No one has ever believed in me like you do.” She steps even closer, so our bodies are pressed together. I vaguely register a wolf-whistle from one of the paps, but it sounds like it comes from a thousand miles away. “You’re stunning,” she continues, “and gentle. Empathic. Intelligent. You care about other people. How the Hell could I not fall for you?”
My voice gets stuck in my throat. “I love you, too,” I choke out. She smiles, big and bright and beautiful, and I can’t help myself. I wrap a hand around the back of her neck and bring her lips to mine.
It’s the kind of kiss that ends a movie. Everything else fades away. Our tongues dance together slowly as we hold each other under the baking-hot LA sunshine. Briar hums underneath me, shivering as I trace my hand down the small of her back, pressing her closer. I can taste strawberry chapstick and orange juice on her soft lips.
Seconds, or minutes, or hours later, we pull apart slightly, shifting to a series of long, open-mouthed pecks. Our foreheads rest together as we breathe each other’s air.
“Mmm,” Briar hums under her breath, slowly licking my bottom lip. “I could kiss you forever.”
My fingers curl into the soft fabric of her dress. I nuzzle down the side of her neck. Around us, cameras flash and shutters click. “We can kiss for as long as you want back in the hotel room,” I murmur. “But we should get going.”
She frowns slightly. “Why? I don’t care about the paps.”
“I know.” I give her another lingering kiss, then finally straighten, pushing a strand of wavy hair behind her ear. “And I also know Matt. I know that as soon as he wakes up and sees you’re gone, he’s going to freak out. He’s probably climbing the walls by now.”
She sighs happily, leaning against my front. “I’m so excited to have you love me.”
I laugh. It’s such an odd thing to say. “What?”
“You’re so wonderful to people you love,” she says, catching my hand. “You’re the best. Okay. Let’s go.”
