Rumor Has It (Limelight) (8 page)

“Are you going to try it?” I asked when I could catch my breath.

“Let’s give it a go.” Mason was a quick study. He did everything right up until the oyster hit the back of his throat. At that point his face curled up in disgust and he began coughing and gagging. His face went red and he grabbed the napkin off his lap and spit the oyster into it.

I did my best to stifle my laugh. “Not a fan I take it?”

“I’m sorry. They’re just so…gooey. I didn’t expect them to be like that. My throat just refused to open.”

“That’s okay they’re not for everyone,” I said still chuckling a bit.

“I feel like such a pussy.”

“Don’t. They can take some getting used to. Are you sure you don’t want to try another one now that you know what to expect? It’d be a shame to waste them.”

Mason leaned in across the table, cupped my face in his hand and ran his thumb back and forth over my cheek. “Oh, Ellie. You’re going to finish every one of those oysters, and I’m going to Love. Every. Second. Of. It.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Halfway through dinner I started to notice that a few of our fellow diners kept stealing glances at our table. I’d only been recognized a handful of times in public since the video had been released so it struck me as odd, but I was immediately self-conscious. Were they waiting for a repeat performance of the last time I was out on a dinner date with a guy? Well, they could keep waiting. I’d learned my lesson.

I tried to ignore the eyeballs piercing through my skull as I ate but it was distracting as hell. Maybe I was being paranoid thinking everywhere I went people would recognize me because of what had happened at the job interview.

“Have you noticed people looking at us?” I asked Mason in a hushed voice.

He looked at me from across the table like a deer in headlights. “What do you mean?”

“I just feel like everyone’s checking us out. It’s strange.”

He let out a big sigh and ran a hand over his shaved head. “Ellie, there’s something I need to—”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner but I had to come over and tell you that I’m one of your biggest fans!” A girl about eighteen or so with long blond hair stood beside our table looking at Mason. She was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Well, uh, thanks,” Mason said, eyeing me across the table, looking a little chagrined.

What the hell was this girl talking about?

“I was sitting over there with my family, and I kept telling my brother it was you, but he was like ‘no way he’d be here,’ but I knew it. I knew it was
the
Mason Nash sitting here in front of me. I can’t believe it!” She put an emphasis on
the
like the name Mason Nash meant something big. Something definitely wasn’t adding up here.

“I guess you can ride your brother for the foreseeable future that you were right then.”

She laughed. “I loved your last album. It was killer. I’m totally buying tickets to your tour when it comes through town.”

Mason looked over to me with pleading look. It seemed to beg me not to spew out the obvious questions I had for him while this girl was standing at our table.

“It’s great to have fans like you. I appreciate it.” He smiled a thousand-watt smile at her and I swear to God I thought the girl was going to turn into a puddle at his feet.

“Will you sign something for me?”

“Sure.”

The girl looked around the table for something that Mason could sign. She leaned over to me and took the white table napkin from my lap and placed it in front of Mason. She turned back to look at me, “Sorry, you don’t mind do you? It’s not like I expected to see him here tonight or I would have come prepared.”

“Now why would I mind?” I said in the sweetest, sing-song voice I could muster. I even threw in a head tilt for good measure.

“Thanks.” She seemed oblivious to the fact that my eyes were throwing daggers. She grabbed a pen off the tray a waiter was carrying past our table. Mason signed the napkin and she finally left us alone after her parting shot to me. “You must feel so lucky to be out with him.”

“It’s like a dream, I can’t even believe he’s real,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could put into my voice.

Clearly Mason was more than just a songwriter.

“Ellie, I can explain,” he said as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Why weren’t you honest with me?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I was. Sort of. I
am
a songwriter. Just not in the context you thought I was. I do write songs for other people, it’s just not what I’m best known for.” He rubbed his hand over the stubble at his jaw.

“And what are you best known for, Mason? I can call you that right? It seems to be your real name.”

He ignored my jab. “I’m a hip-hop artist.”

My mouth hung open. A hip-hop artist? I wouldn’t have guessed it. Ever. He didn’t strike me as that kind of guy. I knew it was a stereotype but when I thought of hip-hop artists I had visions in my head of guys saying “yo” with big gold chains around their necks and the crotch of their pants hanging down to their knees. That most definitely was
not
Mason.

“So, you’re famous?” I asked.

He paused and blew out a breath. “Yes,” he said finally.

“How famous?”

“What’s the scale?”

“Low end of the scale: you struggle to find gigs to pay your rent each month, high end of the scale: paparazzi camp outside your house to get pictures of you on your morning walk.”

“Probably somewhere a little over the midpoint then.”

My jaw slackened. Again. This was not good. It probably would have been good for a lot of girls, but not me. I was trying to fade from the spotlight, not be thrust into it.

“So is this a regular occurrence? Girls coming up to you at restaurants to fawn all over you?”

“It can be.”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” I could hear the hurt in my voice.

“It’s gonna sound lame.”

“Try me.”

He rubbed his hand overtop of his head and blew out a big breath of air. I was starting to recognize his tells when he was uncomfortable. “It was nice not to be recognized. You have to understand…for years I’ve been surrounded by people kissing my ass. Either because they work for me or want something from me. It was nice to get to know someone who thought of me as Mason, not Mason-Nash-hip-hop-artist. Normally when I meet someone for the first time they know who I am and already have preconceived notions of what that means.”

I was pissed that he’d lied to me but I could understand why he’d done it. How was it any different than when people had seen my video and decided they knew me from that one act? The fact that I understood where he was coming from made it hard for me to stay angry with him. Which made me angry with myself.

I sat quietly processing the information. I wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand he’d been dishonest with me. On the other hand I could totally relate to why. I was also trying to wrap my brain around the fact that he was a real life, honest-to-God celebrity. I’d never seen, let alone had a make-out session with someone famous before. It was unnerving.

“I understand why you kept it from me. I don’t like it though,” I finally said.

He reached across the table and took my hand in his. “I’m sorry. I wanted you to get to know me. The real me. People don’t treat you the same when you’re famous. That sounds pompous to call myself famous I know, but it’s the truth. People are just…different when they know you’re in the public eye.”

The public eye. I hadn’t even gotten that far in my thinking. Mason must live his life in the public eye.

“Ellie, I really am sorry. I would have told you soon, after you knew me a bit better. I didn’t want you to find out like this but I did want you to find out. I never planned not to tell you.”

“How did you get into hip-hop?”

Mason visibly relaxed now that I was engaging him with questions about his career. “When I was a teenager, money was tight. I was always good at putting rhymes together so when I saw there was a free-styling competition in our area I decided to compete. I won the first one I entered. The crowd was really into it, cheering me on and screaming whenever I got a good diss in on the other guy. It was a good way to earn a few extra bucks and it didn’t involve selling drugs like most of my other friends were doing, so I’d compete in any contests I could get to. I won most of them and somehow word spread to Troy—he’s my manager. He sought me out, offered to rep me and show me the ropes. That was more than five years ago.”

“Do you like it?”

“I like the position I’m in now better than the one I was in before, I’ll say that.”

“I’ll bet. It doesn’t hurt having attractive girls come up to your table to talk to you.” I tried to keep the irritated tone out of my voice but wasn’t sure I was entirely successful.

“You’re wrong about that. I’ll admit, at first it was cool. A good ego boost. But after a while you realize that even though the fans think they love you, they really don’t even know you. They love the product and the packaging you provide them with. The product is my music, I’m the packaging. They love the persona they see reflected in the media.”

I was trying really hard to be angry with Mason but the more he explained himself the more I understood his thinking. The lack of privacy would make me crazy. I’d had trouble coping with the small amount of attention I’d gotten from the viral video. I can’t imagine the drain of dealing with that on a daily basis. “Does that happen often? People coming up to ask for your autograph?”

He shrugged. “It does. It depends what city I’m in.”

“And here I thought all those people were looking at our table to see what the fish special was.”

Mason laughed. “I didn’t think anyone would recognize me tonight. Not that I was trying to keep it from you, I just didn’t want our date to become all about the fame thing.”

I knew what he was saying. I’d had a couple similar experiences the odd time I’d been recognized from the video. Once a person put two-and-two together it was like that’s all they can focus on. Like the rest of you ceases to exist except the fact that “OMG, I can’t believe that’s
you
.”

“Well, then, let’s not make it about that,” I said.

Mason smiled and I felt a twinge of guilt. I’d enjoy the rest of our date. We were here now in the middle of dinner and I’d already seen what could happen when you had a strong emotional reaction in a public place. There’d be no part two to my infamous video.

I’d enjoy the rest of the evening but after it was all said and done, I knew what I had to do.

CHAPTER NINE

I drove Ellie and I back to the beach house after dinner cursing myself. I knew it’d been a bad idea to go for dinner in public, that there was a chance of me being recognized. But I hadn’t wanted to invite her back to my place again in case she thought my M.O. was to get her naked.

Her reaction when she’d learned I was famous was another one of the reasons she intrigued me so much. Most girls would’ve been ecstatic and had dollar signs in their eyes. Ellie had been the opposite. She hadn’t said much about it but she’d seemed disconcerted by the whole thing.

I pulled up the long driveway and turned the vehicle off.

“Ellie, is everything okay? You’ve been quiet since we left the restaurant.”

She blew out a breath. “I’ve been running the fact that you’re famous over in my head and thinking about all that means.”

Which didn’t sound promising. “What does it mean?”

She looked across the car at me with regret in her eyes. “For one, it means you probably date super models and other celebrity types.”

I was confused. “I’m not seeing anyone right now if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I assumed you weren’t although I guess I probably should have asked. What I mean is, you’re probably used to dating beautiful women.”

“I still am dating a beautiful woman.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m no saint, Ellie. My first three years of fame I probably fucked my way through half of Hollywood and the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. But I haven’t been like that in a long time.”

She flinched at my honesty, but there was no point in lying about it. The gossip rags had documented most of my trysts anyway and she’d only need an internet connection to read about it.

“I wasn’t implying you’re promiscuous. I don’t understand why you’d want to go out with me when you’re used to dating women like that,” she said in a soft voice.

Was she for real? I reached out and ran my thumb along her cheek. “You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met. You’ve got something none of those other women ever had.”

“An extra twenty pounds?”

“Don’t even get me started on how bangin’ your body is, or we’re gonna end up in the back seat. You know who you are. You’re your own person.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Some of the women
you
probably consider the most beautiful in the world are so vile in character it would make your head spin. They have no heart. No soul. They think only of themselves and what they can get with no consideration for anyone else. They’d sell their soul in a minute if it meant they’d land the right gig, or get on the right magazine cover. They’ll step on anyone and everyone without a second thought to get where they want to go.”