The barista presented her cappuccino with a flourish.

  “Lovely,” Bonita croaked, staring down at the triple-layered swirl of foam hearts.

  She sat at a small table in the back and methodically worked her way through the savory bialy, peeling the bubbly bits of brown cheese from the top and eating them first. Even though her own heart ached, she couldn’t bring herself to drag her finger through the foam and destroy the barista’s creation, but as she sipped, the hearts disappeared, bit by bit, until there was only the merest suggestion of a curve in the bottom of the cup. When the bialy had been reduced to cornmeal and crumbs, she started in on the hazelnut croissant, hoping if she stuffed herself, she wouldn’t feel so empty, so full of…nothing.

  She’d known it was a mistake the minute she’d arrived at Kat’s door, but it had been too late to stop. The match had been lit, and it burned. Now everything was ruined, demolished by Kat’s reckless ultimatum, and all they had left were ashes. The sweet treat turned bitter in her mouth. How could Kat be so selfish?

  She stood and gathered her dishes, leaving them in a bus tub and dumping her trash in the can. She stepped out the door and began walking. The sun was higher in the sky, but the air felt cool and damp, thick with the scent of salt and living things. She paused to admire some white flowers growing on a chain-link fence. A second too late, she identified the blossoms and swayed, clutching the fence for balance, sucker-punched by the scent of jasmine. There was no escaping Kat.

  A couple of guys carrying surfboards passed her on the sidewalk, and she trailed after them, discovering a boardwalk lined with more shops, street vendors, henna tattoo artists, skaters and people of all kinds. Music blared, changing every ten feet, as she moved along the boardwalk. The chaos matched the tumult in her heart, and she kept pace with the crowd, uncertain of her purpose. If she had wanted to leave Kat, she’d be at the airport by now. Why wasn’t she?

  After walking the length of the boardwalk and all the way back, she was no closer to an answer. She ducked out of the crowd and trudged across the sand, although she doubted the ocean would have any answers for her, either. She felt lost, adrift, and she’d left her anchor flattened against the wall. The memory of Kat’s devastated expression made her cringe, suddenly desperate for confirmation that she’d done the right thing.

  There was one person she knew who always told the truth. Bonita dialed before she could lose her nerve.

  Crystal answered immediately. “Come Again is fine. No worries here, boss.”

  “I had no doubt.” Bonita forced a laugh. “I wish I was calling about business.”

  “If it isn’t business, I assume it’s pleasure. How goes the Hollywood hookup? I saw a picture of you and a certain goddess of the silver screen in the entertainment section of the paper this morning. It didn’t take an empath to feel the vibe you two were putting out. Way to go, but you’re going to have your hands full with that one.”

  Bonita imagined Crystal winding her long, black hair up into a loose knot on top of her head, letting it fall, finger-combing the dense, black waves and looking smug.

  “You have no idea.” Relief poured through her. Of course Crystal would understand. “Did Destiny tell you she and Johnny gave Kat topping lessons?”

  “Lucky bitch.” Crystal chuckled. “No, but Destiny’s been impossible ever since you left. She’s probably afraid you’re going to fire her.”

  “She deserves it,” Bonita said darkly.

  “Are you sure she doesn’t deserve a raise?” Crystal’s voice rippled with amusement.

  Bonita ignored the question. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Do you think I’m an emotional masochist?”

  Sudden noise arose in the background. “I have customers. Hang on a sec.”

  Bonita identified laughter, the crinkle of paper and the distinctive tinkle of the bell on the front door of Come Again. While she waited, she slipped off her sandals and made her way through the families on the beach until she reached the ocean. After dipping a toe in the cold water, she meandered along the shore, avoiding seaweed, sharp bits of glass and pointy shells.

  After a few minutes, Crystal came back on the line. “I wouldn’t say you’re an emotional masochist. More like your average, everyday control freak.”

  “What? I am not.”

  “See? You even want to control the way I see you. Remember when I tried to read your emotions at Alisa’s wedding and couldn’t even slip in through a crack?”

  Bonita’s cheeks heated at the memory of their fake make-out session when Crystal had used her as a decoy date. For a split second, Crystal, with her long, dark hair and bad-girl persona, had reminded her of Kat, and her emotions had snapped out of control. She’d put a lid on them—fast—which had given Crystal a clue to how tightly she controlled her feelings the rest of the time.

  Bonita sighed. “Does that explain why I said no when Kat offered to come out of the closet for me?”

  “Seriously? You said no? That picture in the paper looked like yes to me.”

  “I can’t do it, Crystal. It would ruin her career.”

  “Nothing could touch that juggernaut. Women want her as much as men do.”

  Bonita shook her head. “So says the bisexual psychic. Forgive me, but you don’t exactly have the same viewpoint as mainstream America.”

  “But I’m the one you called for advice,” Crystal said cheerfully. “Suck it up, Buttercup. If you’re going to kick Wesley to the curb, you better come up with a good reason.”

  Bonita snorted. “Princess Bride analogies—really?”

  “Again…you called me. I’m assuming it’s because you want me to tell you to quit fucking around and be honest with yourself.”

  Even without using her empathic abilities, Crystal knew how to get to the heart of the matter, leaving Bonita no choice but to do the same. “She left me, Crystal. When Kat turned eighteen, she left for Hollywood, and now she says she made a mistake. Twelve years apart, and now she’s like ‘Oh, let’s be together.’ I can’t do it. It hurt so much when she left. Her career was more important than me. I’ve understood that for years, and now she’s changed her mind. What if she changes it back?”

  It would kill her. That was the power Kat held over her, the ability to break her. If she had asked Kat to stay in Norton and Kat had said no… If she had joined Kat in Hollywood when she turned eighteen, and Kat hadn’t wanted her there… If she stayed with Kat now and Kat didn’t want her forever…it would break her. Wasn’t it better not to take the risk?

  Sudden understanding made her shiver, and it had nothing to do with the brisk wind. She walked to dry sand and sank down, defeated. “I’m a control freak.”

  “But you’re a really great control freak, sweetie. You have a successful, well-run business. Your filing system is truly inspired. You’re perfectly put together at all times, never a hair out of place, makeup always immaculate. Nobody messes with you because you’ll crack their gonads and hand them back in perfect pieces. When the pressure to perform gets too much, you go to Johnny’s club and relinquish control for a little while—under very controlled circumstances, of course, just like every good control freak should.”

  Her words, so similar to Kat’s resentful complaint, stung like salt in a wound. “Hey, I already admitted you were right. Why are you rubbing it in?”

  “Because half of an epiphany isn’t going to do you much good. Keep digging… You like control, so what? Why did you say no to Kat?”

  Bonita held very still and let the truth rise to the surface, unimpeded by fear or desire. “I can’t control Kat. She’s a wild card…reckless…impulsive. I never know what she’s going to do. Being with her is a risk, and I hate taking risks. As long as I get to decide when we see each other, I have some control over her.”

  “Good girl.” Crystal’s voice was laced with laughter and deliberate irony.

  “Oh, shut up. If you tell me I fit the submissive profile, I’m going to fire you,” Bonita grumbled.

  “Are you sure about that? Because ever since you left, my rich boyfriend has been filling my head with all kinds of ways to improve business at Come Again. I was kind of hoping you’d offer to sell me the business so you could move to Hollywood and permanently hook up with the hottest movie star on the planet.”

  “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Trust me, I know how you feel. Uncertainty sucks. Rejection sucks. Being told no sucks—”

  “I hate being told no,” Bonita broke in as another truth hit home. Kat was right about her parents, too. “I heard that word so often growing up I quit asking.”

  “What’s the alternative to asking for what you want?”

  Living a lie, coloring between the lines, never having the one thing she wanted more than anything else…

  All or nothing.

  “Tell Ryan to make me an offer.”

  Exhilaration soared through her, the rush of endorphins making her dizzy.

  “Atta girl,” Crystal cheered. “How did that feel?”

  “Like freedom.” Bonita felt sweat trickle down her side. The fear was still there, but she wasn’t going to let it control her anymore. “Kat might not want me back…but I won’t know unless I ask.” Risk,as she had recently learned, had its own reward, at least in the best-possible-case scenario. In the worst-possible-case scenarios, she’d be living without Kat either way.

  “I think Kat sounds perfect for you. She’s wild in all the ways you’re restrained, but I bet she needs your stability every bit as much as you need her to push you out of your comfort zone. Do you trust her? Really trust her? With your heart, your life, with everything?” There was no laughter in Crystal’s voice now. “Her coming out of the closet would be a big deal, so don’t tease her unless you are dead certain it’s what you want too. She’ll be counting on you.”

  “I trust her.” With a sense of wonderment, she realized it was true. Kat’s ultimatum had scared the hell out of her. Kat never said anything she didn’t mean. She might be moody, hotheaded and stubborn, but she was also clear-sighted, intuitive and honest. If she said she was coming out of the closet, she meant it. Oh God.

  “I’ve got to go,” Bonita gasped.

  “Go get her, sweetie.” Crystal blew a kiss and hung up.

  Tucking her phone in her pocket, Bonita turned and raced back toward the street.

  Chapter Six

  When Herb barreled through her front door, Kat was lying on her back in the hall. She hadn’t moved since Bonita left except to call the guards to tell them to let Herb through the gates. She looked up at him, too tired to be anything but honest. “I get that this is way out of your realm, Herbie, and I don’t expect you to give a shit. But I was happy. Really happy. And those fake pictures fucked it up for me. Bonita left.”

  “Kat, you told me to spin it. I did the best I could.”

  “I said spin it, not fabricate reality. That was way over the line—”

  He eased down beside her on the floor. “No, it wasn’t. All’s fair in love and Hollywood. You know that. The pictures would have been fine before your little girlfriend showed up. In fact, they probably would have been your idea. So don’t act like I’m nuts for trying to do you a favor.”

  “Favor? Anything that makes me want to commit homicide is not a favor.”

  “Oh, shut up. My cell has been buzzing constantly since you two lovebirds raced out of the awards ceremony. At least now nobody wants to know when you started doing girls.”

  “Herb, I don’t care anymore—got it? No more fake publicity. If you do anything like that again, I’ll sue you. You will spend every penny you ever made on legal fees. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah, I get you. We have a problem, though.”

  “No, Herbie, you have a problem. I haven’t done anything wrong or illegal, at least not in this state, and my fucking heart is broken. You deal with it.”

  “It was Cindy in the pictures.”

  “Of course it was. So what?”

  “She’s going around town trying to sell the details of your hookup at the wrap party. Apparently your blond boyfriend and his girlfriend sold their story to her, and Jenna Parker just called to tell me she booked the exclusive. Tonight, live, with a studio audience.”

  Kat groaned. Her face was splashed all over the supermarket tabloids, and now she was going to get dragged through the mud on the highest-rated daytime talk show on television. Jenna didn’t usually do mud, so people would pay attention. Bonita would probably see it in the airport or on the plane. Proprietors would almost certainly tank. No one would offer her a serious role, and she’d be showing her cleavage onscreen until she was eighty.

  “Could be worse. Jenna’s a class act. At least she called to warn us.”

  “That’s so half-full of you, Herbie.” Kat went back to staring at the ceiling.

  Bonita was gone, and her life stretched out in front of her, empty and meaningless, a charade. Did she give a shit about her career anymore? She’d been heading down a risky road for a while now. Getting caught on camera phone with Blond and Blondie had been a rookie mistake. Taking Bonita to the Pics and Pans had been reckless, too. If Bonita had said yes this morning, she would have called Jenna Parker, booked her own spot on the show, and jettisoned her career as the Come-Hither Queen without a single regret.

  It wasn’t too late. She felt her lips twitch, and when she turned to Herb, she flashed him a full-on grin. “Call Jenna.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do?”

  “I think I can salvage something out of this.”

  A gloating smile showed his perfectly capped teeth. “I thought you didn’t care about your career anymore.”

  “Bite me. If I’m going down, I’m going down my way. Are you coming with me?” She wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to walk away.

  His sigh was long and loud. “Quit being such a drama queen. Haven’t I stuck with you through every other crazy stunt you’ve pulled? Jesus, I thought we were friends.” He stood and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  “Don’t bother with damage control. It’s going to get a lot worse,” she warned.

  “That’s why I’m calling Clarke.”

  She stared up at him. As far as she knew, he’d never even spoken to Clarke.

  He raised his eyebrows. “What? You’re lying on the floor, babe. Sober. I’m worried about you. Clarke would take a bullet for you, and she’d kill me if I didn’t call her so she can at least make some sandwiches and hold your damn hand.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “That’s so sweet.”

  “Don’t get used to it. I prefer being an asshole.”

  She watched him text and listened while he made half a dozen calls to her chauffeur, stylist, makeup artist, hairdresser and publicists. By the time he was done, tears had made wet tracks down her temples and into her hair. He hadn’t just called her staff in to work, he’d rallied a troop of supporters, and they were coming to help her. She didn’t feel worthy of that kind of loyalty.

  Not good enough…never good enough…

  She closed her eyes, focusing inward and hitting the mental delete button. She might not have been the kind of person who deserved staunch loyalty in the past, but moving forward, she was going to earn it. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath, wiping her face on her shirt. Bonita was gone, but that didn’t change Kat’s mind about her future. She still had something to prove, and as soon as she managed to stop crying and get off the floor, she knew exactly how to do it.

  Goddamn it. Why wasn’t Kat answering her phone? Bonita glared out the taxi window at traffic, bumper to bumper, barely moving for what felt like the last hour. She looked at her phone. It had been an hour. Apprehension wrapped around her spine. There was no telling what Kat was doing right now, and Bonita didn’t want her to do it alone.

  Voicemail again. Bonita took a breath to leave another message, but Kat’s voice continued speaking. Bonita paused, confused, then peered over the front seat, tracing the source of the sound. The driver was watching something on his phone.

  “Is that Kat St. James?” she asked, heart sinking.

  “Sure is.”

  “What is it?”

  “A clip from one of her movies on The Jenna Parker Show. They’ve been running teasers all day about a big reveal. I can’t resist. Usually I don’t watch this stuff, but I don’t want to miss it if she makes a guest appearance—”

  The cars on the exit ramp weren’t even moving. It was almost four o’clock. She’d wasted hours in Venice Beach, and now Kat was going to follow through with her plan without knowing Bonita had changed her mind. Kat would never know Bonita had been willing to do it with her. Not this time. Kat wasn’t leaving her behind again.

  “Can you take me to the studio?”

  “Huh?” The surprise on his face was comical. “Channel 7?”

  “As fast as you can.”

  “Lady, if I could, I would.” Traffic was breaking up around them. They were inching past the police cars still clogging the scene of the fender bender at the end of the exit ramp. “But you don’t get anywhere fast in Los Angeles at four o’clock.”

  She glanced at his driver’s ID taped to the windshield. “Manuel? You like Kat St. James? You want to be in the room when she makes her big reveal? I can get you there. I can even introduce you.”

  He snorted. “And I’m the pope, lady. We ain’t getting through this without a police escort.”

  Struck by an idea, Bonita opened the door of the taxi.

  “Hey,” the driver yelled as Bonita ricocheted out the door.

  “Follow me,” she yelled over her shoulder as she raced toward the nearest police car.

 

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