“I expected you to look crazy. Or be strung out on some sort of backwoods drug. But you look… good.” His brow furrowed like it was a bad thing.
“I’m not,” Cole said flatly. And he wasn’t. He’d jacked off twice that morning and was still horny, just thinking about his call with Summer. He should have just let her bring Cocky to her house. Maybe then he’d be able to eat eggs benedict without needing to adjust himself.
Justin eyed him. “I got to be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d survive out there without me.”
“Your job security has definitely taken a nose dive now that I have become more self-sufficient.” Cole waved off the waiter’s offer for more juice.
Justin looked at his watch—one that Cole had given him for Christmas. “All right, I’ve been patient for fifteen minutes.”
Cole looked up, mid-chew, his eyebrows furrowed in question.
Justin laughed and spread his hands, as if waiting for Cole to spill his soul.
Cole swallowed. “You’ve got to give me more than that.”
“Summer.”
One word that perfectly described her hot fucking deliciousness. “What about her?” He’d ask how Justin knew about her, but that was a waste of a question. In Hollywood, an assistant’s worth was primarily composed of three things: organization, ability to keep secrets, and ability to find out secrets. Justin had ninja skills in all three.
“How serious are you about her?”
“Serious?” Cole coughed out a strangled attempt at a laugh. “She’s my costar. I got Nadia’s team breathing down my neck, and that Rottweiler of an attorney you tied me to threatening my nuts in a jar if I so much as unzip my pants. The only thing I’m serious about is staying as far away from that country beauty queen as possible.”
Justin said nothing, sitting back in his chair and staring at him.
“Once,” Cole mumbled. “I fucked her once. It’s not happening again.”
“Is that why you’re calling for script changes every day? You know this business, Cole. Your production budget is climbing faster than Lindsay Lohan’s chance of a crack baby pregnancy.”
“I’m calling for script changes because they’re making the movie better. You’ll see when you come. The new scenes work, and they add a different element to the movie.”
“Porn. That’s the element you’re adding to the movie. This was a standard biopic. According to the crew, you two are all but fucking on camera.”
Cole scowled. “That’s bullshit. We’ve kissed on camera once.”
“Well, that’s what they’re telling me. And if they’re talking to me, you know they’re telling their families. The tabloids will be all over this shit within the week. I won’t be surprised if they get dailies and blast that shit primetime.”
“It’s on camera. I can bend her over and screw on screen if it’s for the movie. And there’s nothing that you or DeLuca or Nadia or the fucking Hollywood Reporter can say about it.” Cole pushed back his seat in irritation.
Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck me. You in love with this girl?”
Cole threw up his hands. “Oh my God. That’s not what this is about. This is about the movie. This is about me not being bored off my ass in the middle of nowhere.”
“No.” Justin shook his head. “This is different. I’ve known you for thirteen years. Something’s off. You think it’s a rebound?”
Cole looked away. “It’s not a rebound. I wouldn’t do that to her.”
“To Summer? Or to Nadia?”
His eyes hardened. “Nadia can fuck herself.”
“So you’re not wanting to hook up with Summer because you’re worried about hurting her?” Justin looked to the ceiling and chuckled. “Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” He grinned at Cole. “Seriously. This is the same guy who was healing his pride with a pussy buffet, just… oh… seven, eight weeks ago?”
Cole sighed. “Let’s go. The mediation is soon.”
Justin stood, his eyes on Cole’s as he finished off his water. “Just talk to me. I know you’re not talking to anyone else.”
“Nothing to talk about.” Cole pulled out his wallet and peeled off a couple of bills. “It happened. It’s over. Everything else is about the movie.”
“If you say so.” Justin slapped him on the back as they moved around the table. “Now let’s go nail this bitch to the wall.”
Justin pulled back the private curtain, and they came face to face with pure fury in the form of a six-foot-two Italian.
Brad Fucking DeLuca.
CHAPTER 77
“Jesus…” Cole stepped back, the man glowering at them like he was ready to pull them apart.
“How did you get back here?” Justin snapped back the rest of the curtain, oblivious to their impending demise, and glared toward the restaurant. “We rented out the pool deck.”
“My wife just became best friends with the manager. And a thousand bucks got me a first class ticket to your cuddle session.” Justin started to speak, and DeLuca turned to him, holding up a hand. “Get the fuck out of my face and let me talk to my client alone.”
Justin blanched, his eyes moving to Cole, who nodded. “Stand outside and make sure no one comes around.” This was bad. He ticked through his conversation with Justin, his eyes closing in dread. There was the pull of curtains, and then they were alone.