Rock Bottom (35 page)

For the fifth time that morning, Billie’s cell vibrated. Groaning, she looked at the display. Zinta’s name appeared. This one, she’d take. “Hello?” she mumbled, muted by her pillow.

“Sweetie? Where are you?”

Billie glanced around the room, familiar and yet not after so many months away. “Home.” Sadness welled from deep inside, and her body ached for Jet.

“You are?” Zin sighed in relief. “Thank God. I can tell Everett he’s an asshole.”

“I’ll tell him myself when I get in.” She rolled over and rubbed her forehead.

“You’d better prepare yourself. He’s in a mood.”

Anger forced her to a sitting position. “Well, so am I. He forces me to leave, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“To Jet?”

She groaned, remembering. He’d lied about
Rock Bottom
. Maybe everything had been a lie.

“Oh, Billie. You didn’t sleep with him again?”

Billie couldn’t help but laugh. She’d lost count.

“Twice?” Zinta asked.

“Oh, way more than twice.”

Zinta’s laugh ended in a squeal. “Outrageous. You can’t claim this time it ‘just happened.’ Not so many times!” Her peals of laughter echoed through the phone.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing.” She should tell Zin about yesterday. Screwing in the foothills of California without benefit of protection. The times they’d made love using a condom, she hadn’t felt so great about. Yesterday was another matter altogether. How could she have been so stupid?

“Maybe you need a fresh perspective. This has been going on for weeks now. Occurring over and over. Deliberately.”

Her head ached. What time was it in California? “So?”

“So you can’t claim it’s just a one-nighter. That it means nothing. He means something to you, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.” He did, at least, until last night.

“And let’s face it, Bil. He has all those other women. But who does he keep coming back to? Huh?”

“How do I know he didn’t go after them too?”
Because he told you,
Willamina
.

“Let’s review. One: their intense jealousy. Two: their intense jealousy. Three: their
intense
jealousy. Are you seeing a pattern here? Besides, no man has that much goomba to spread around.”

Billie felt fairly certain
goomba
wasn’t a word, and if it was, Zin hadn’t used it in the proper context. Or language. But its meaning clear, she wouldn’t argue. “I wonder if it’s not his way of escaping from the reality show to reality.” The problem was, Billie no longer had any idea which was which. “But I met his sister and her kids.” Yesterday seemed forever ago already.

“Okay. Number four: you met his sister.”

“But it fits the pattern. I read in a magazine that when you’re away from your normal life--say, on vacation or an assignment--that any flings don’t count. Because you’re not totally you while you’re away.”

“Who are you then?”

The memory of Jet responding to Stu flashed through her mind:
A ghost
. “I don’t know. Not my normal self. I’m
Strung Out
Billie.”

“You sure are, sweetie.” Zin giggled evilly.

“I was away from my usual life.” And it felt great, for a while.

“Getting the real inside scoop.” Zin was having too much fun.

Going against every principle she held dear. “Stop.”

“You stop reading women’s magazines. They’re all marketing crap.”

Billie knew that. “My point is--”

“Honey, you’re avoiding the real point. One time, you can chalk up to an accident. I did, anyway. Twice, poor judgment. Three or more times…you just ran out of excuses, my friend.”

Collapsing back atop the bed, she stared at the ceiling, as blank as her brain. “I know. I’m avoiding it. I don’t know why.”

“No?” Zin’s voice hinted at a challenge.

Billie tensed. She hadn’t wanted to think why it kept happening. “I have to go. I’ll be in soon.”

Switching off the phone, she threw herself back onto the pillow. No way could she get back to sleep now, even on a few hours’ sleep. She forced herself upright. “Time to face the music, Willamina.”

* * * *

Taping the final episode of
Rock Bottom
, Jet kissed Julie’s cheek and forced a semblance of a smile. Only after the producer had threatened to sue if they didn’t wrap this season up right.

He’d have liked to wrap it up and deep freeze it. Never again would he get sucked into this bullshit.

Going through the motions, the episode fell flat. Even the camera guys appeared bored, their expressions blank as they filmed. Julie finally showed some excitement, but it had little to do with him. She paid as little attention to him as he did to her. No viewer would be fooled by this.

At least it would ensure they’d never invite him back.

The producer called it a wrap. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Jet’s thought exactly.

* * * *

The door clicked--too quietly--behind her. Everett paced, thumb to bottom lip. Never a good sign. “You know how I feel about you.”

She shifted. “Not exactly.” Where was he going with this? Without thinking, she laughed. It caught in her throat when he grabbed her waist and pulled her close.

Pushing him away, revulsion twisted her insides. “What are you doing?”

“You drive me crazy.” He curled into her, his lips on her neck.

“Ditto. But not in a good way. Get off me.” With one final push, she jerked away.

“Billie,” he crooned. “You know why I sent you there. Why I had to.”

Had he been taking acting lessons while she was away? Or dropping acid? “I don’t recall anyone holding a gun to your head.”

Anguish twisted his face, his voice. “Why did you sleep with him?”

Dammit, he had no right to ask. She tucked her tee back into her jeans, but the feel of his hands made her cringe. “Why did you sleep with four other women?”

He dropped his chin to his chest, gave her the look he used when about to seduce her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Night and day, work and home. I had to clear my head.”

Stepping back, she folded her arms. “You sent me away purposely, so you could screw around? All you had to do was ask for some space.” He could have saved her a lot of heartache.

His arms dropped flaccidly at his sides. “I didn’t know what I wanted. You confused the hell out of me.”

Blowing a breath, the conversation seemed pointless. She simply didn’t care. “Don’t blame me for your confusion.”

With a wolfish gleam in his eye, he stepped toward her. “I didn’t know if I was ready for a real relationship. As much as I wanted it.”

“God, Everett.” He wouldn’t recognize a real relationship if everyone around him pointed and screamed:
There it is!

“I had to send you away to find out how much I missed you. Don’t you see?”

She straightened. “Yes, I see very clearly--how pathetic you truly are.”

“Fair enough. I’m pathetic. More so since you’ve been away. It made me realize how much I want you.”

Want.
Not
love
. Someone else had played with his toy, and now he wanted it back. “When, Everett? Not when I cried and told you I loved you. Not when you were screwing four other women like tomorrow might never come. So tell me--when was I ever your first consideration?”

Moving closer, he spoke to her more lovingly than he ever had. “Billie, we’re good together.”

“Were, Everett. And I’m not even certain about that any longer.” Not since Jet showed her how a guy who truly cares acts toward a woman. “Call Stu. Maybe he can arrange a reality dating show for you. Maybe it will teach you the meaning of real.”

Heaving a long sigh, he frowned. “I expected more from you.”

She could have said the same thing. Now, it didn’t matter what he thought. “Ditto again.”

“I never imagined you letting someone like him paw you.”

Disgust sizzled along her nerve endings. “Don’t take it down to your level, Everett.” Jet held her. Spoke with her. Ensured her needs were fulfilled.

“Right. Because Billie Prescott’s above screwing around.” Chuckling, he sat on the edge of his desk. “Fill me in then. Was it a meeting of the minds? I hardly think so.”

Crossing her arms, she made her gaze stony. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Look, Billie, this is serious. I need to know.” The room temperature dropped considerably.

“It’s none of your damn business.”

“I’m in a very bad position here.” Moving to his desk, he lifted the tabloids one by one. “Each of these, and other media, ran stories implicating you. And by extension,
Strung Out
. The contestants are threatening legal action. Lawsuits against Jet. Against the
Rock Bottom
production company. Against us.”

Billie’s stomach churned. The show was in ruins.

Everett leaned across the desk. “That’s why I have to suspend you.”

Suspend? Nothing more? “When can I come back?”

Shifting, he shrugged. “When things settle down.”

“Oh. One of
those
suspensions.” A bitter laugh escaped. He couldn’t just fire her and be done with it. He had to screw even that up.

“Sorry, but it goes to credibility. We have our reputation to consider.”

“So do I, Everett. And it’s a damned good one.” The force of her convictions made her lean toward him, pointing.

Her show of strength had little effect except to calm him, to gather his explosiveness into a condensed ball that he could unleash at will.

Arching a brow, his low voice sounded smooth, belying its restrained voltage. “It
was
.”

She bristled.
Bastard.
But she’d match his calm exterior. “No. It
is
. What happened has nothing to do with the quality of my writing.”

“No, but--”

“But nothing. If you can’t back me up, Everett, then I don’t want to be here.” Her own words chilled her. She’d played right into his hands.

He strolled behind the desk, sank into his black leather chair and leaned back. “That’s your prerogative.”

Damn him. He’d known she’d say that. “You’re an incredible dick. And I mean that in the worst possible way.”

“This doesn’t have to get ugly.” His eyes held a strange gleam, as if he enjoyed this game.

“If I leave quietly? No worries, Everett. I’d planned to quit, anyway. Just not so soon.” She’d done it. For all intents and purposes, she’d just resigned. She strolled to the window and gazed out over the city sprawling below. “I deserve better than you. In every way.”

“You always did.” His sincerity surprised her.

No. He couldn’t worm his way back in now. “I’ll need three months’ severance.”

His counteroffer came quickly. He must’ve expected it. “Two.”

“Three. Or I podcast this conversation online.” She slid the digital recorder from her pocket.

The surprise in his face faded. “That’s our equipment.” He held out his hand.

“Actually, it’s personal property. The office recorder broke last month, and I shipped it back for repairs. I bought this with my own credit card.
Strung Out
never reimbursed me.”

Something like admiration shone in his face. “California changed you. The old Billie would never have stooped so low as blackmail.”

“Right. The old Billie would have kissed your hairy ass and been grateful for the hair in my mouth.” From now on, she wouldn’t settle for anything less than complete bliss from a willing partner. “Three months, Everett.”

“All right. Three months.”

Damn.
She should have asked for six. “And a written recommendation before I leave. I don’t want you trashing my reputation.”

“I want nothing but the best for you.”

“Then you wouldn’t have asked me to take you back.” Her stomach churned over on itself, watching, waiting for some sign of hurt or remorse. He gave neither.

Unclipping her photo ID, she tossed it onto his desk. “I’ll clear out my desk.”

As she opened the door, Francisco and Ryan glanced away and their hurried babble ran together nonsensically.

Halting, she steadied herself. “Don’t bother covering. You can hear it from me. I just quit.”

Both rushed to her, Ryan squeezed her in a hug and Francisco’s hands fluttered around them.

She forced a smile. “We’ll keep in touch, right?”

Zinta emerged from the small kitchen and waved her stirrer.

Billie gulped hard. “Hey, I’m leaving. I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Where to now?” She rolled her eyes.

“No clue.” Tears welled, and she frowned to keep them from falling.

Zinta’s jaw dropped. “Not
leaving
leaving. I thought you meant Everett shipped you out on another wacky assignment.”

“No. I’m done here.” She held out her arms.

Zin set down her mug and pulled her close. “Man. What will I do without you?”

She grinned. “Stay out of trouble?”

“Not likely.”

“I’ll let you know where I land.”

“You better do more than that.”

Tears choked her response, and she hugged Zin. Brushing her cheek, she asked, “Anyone have a carton I can haul my stuff in?”

Francisco pulled a plastic bag from his desk. “Does this work?”

Like everything else, she’d make it work. Somehow.

* * * *

Packing up had been a breeze. None of the furniture belonged to Jet, anyway.

He stored some of his things at his sister’s, and readied for the upcoming tour.

Shitty timing. He had to talk to Billie. Things had been so crazy, by the time he had a chance, the time difference meant it would be an ungodly hour in Philadelphia.

Why hadn’t he gotten her cell number?
Because she wasn’t supposed to take off like that.
No goodbye, nothing.

Something had to be very wrong.

He’d make it right again.

* * * *

Lights flashed when she stepped out of the office. Three photographers aimed their digital and video cameras in her direction, and three women in business suits armed with microphones talked at once.

Shielding her face with her arm, she skirted them. “Whoa, you have the wrong girl.”

A woman asked, “Aren’t you Billie Prescott?” and held the mic in Billie’s direction.