Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Randy laughs. “That’s not possible. If you were dating someone, I would know.”
“I’m good at hiding. I didn’t want you to know about Leila because I knew you would disapprove.”
“Who is she? What does she do?”
“She’s an interior designer from Massachusetts.”
“Not even a local? Come on, Spencer, you’re pulling my leg here.”
“I’m not. Leila is a great girl. I think you’d like her if you got to know her.”
The lies spill from my lips far too easily. I mean, I guess it’s not all a lie. I do genuinely like this girl, but we obviously haven’t been dating for six months, which happens to be the amount of time she has been in Los Angeles.
“How’d you meet her?”
“At a club when she first moved here,” I say without missing a beat. “She was new in town and didn’t know anyone, so I showed her a few spots. We hit it off, and the rest is history.”
“And you managed never to be photographed together until now?”
I smile. “I told you, I’ve been really careful. Leila isn’t going to be happy that it’s public now, but I think it’ll be good for us. She’s awesome. It’s about time people saw me in a real relationship.”
Randy grumbles under his breath. “I don’t believe this for one second. You’re just trying to get out of dating Candy.”
“That’s not true at all, and I’ll prove it to you.”
“Fine. But just remember, the offer stands. You’ll come crawling back to me, begging me to set you up with Candy when all this blows up in your face. Dating in Hollywood isn’t about love; it’s about your career. You’ll see that.” He hangs up before I can say anything else, and I drop my phone onto my weight bench.
This isn’t good. I may have dug myself into a hole I can’t climb out of. The only option here is to talk to Leila, convince her to date me, and keep up this charade.
I just have to find her first.
Chapter Five – Leila
I pace around my apartment, holding tight to seven different magazines, which all feature my face as I gaze into the beautiful eyes of Spencer James.
“How could this have happened?” I ask Shiloh. He sits patiently in front of me, wagging his tail, waiting for his evening walk. The poor guy has been trapped inside all day, but I haven’t had the energy for more than a quick step out back for him to do his business since I got home from work an hour ago.
Shiloh, being a dog unable to speak words, looks at me with his cute puppy dog eyes but doesn’t answer my question.
“This is your fault,” I tell my good boy. He perks up his ears, wondering if I said it’s time to go for a walk.
If Shiloh hadn’t gone on an adventure through the park yesterday, none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t have a hundred texts on my phone from people back home, some I haven’t spoken to in years, asking me when I can introduce them to Spencer. Abby is the only one I’ve actually spoken to. I called her on my way home from work and told her the entire true story, and her only response was that my life in Los Angeles is finally getting exciting.
I throw the tabloids on my coffee table, vowing to toss them in the recycling bin the next time I leave the house. I don’t know why I even bought them. I guess I wanted the physical proof of my life falling apart to stare at while I figure out what I’m supposed to do.
Abby assured me this would all be over soon. The press will find something more interesting to talk about, and they’ll forget all about me, especially when I’m not seen with Spencer again. That doesn’t help me for the next few days, though. Someone with a camera took some photos of me leaving work today. Are those going to end up on a front cover, too, or will they be saved for when Spencer has a real girlfriend, and they want to make me out to be a scorned ex-lover? I will forever be tied to Spencer James, even though we only talked for a few minutes in a park after my dog knocked off his disguise.
“No more escaping for you,” I tell Shiloh, still waiting to go for his walk. “I’m keeping you on a tight leash, literally. The last thing I need is another incident like yesterday.”
Shiloh jumps up at the word “leash,” and I roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay, buddy, we should probably go for a walk, shouldn’t we?”
I check the time on my phone. I ordered a pizza about ten minutes ago, so we probably have a good twenty before it arrives. I’ll keep Shiloh close to our apartment building so we don’t have to worry about missing the delivery, but the least I can do for my dog is give him his walk. I hate leaving him in the apartment by himself all day.