“I represent Madison Brooks. And it’s in your best interest to take this seriously. We clear?”
“Crystal.” She glared, watching as he turned and made for the exit.
As soon as he was gone, she ripped the document to shreds, deposited the pieces into the can behind the bar, dumped a load of ice cubes and lime wedges on top, and stormed out of Jewel.
When Madison had claimed Layla would be hearing from her lawyers, Layla assumed she was bluffing.
What kind of spoiled, entitled princess goes after someone for accidentally spilling some coffee?
You are not to go within fifty feet of Madison, he’d said. Like Madison got to dictate where Layla went. She shook her head and reached for her cell, about to call Mateo, if for no other reason than to share her outrage, only to press End before the call could go through. Last time she’d told him about her run-in with Madison, he was completely lacking in sympathy. She wouldn’t give him a reason to say I told you so.
She climbed on her bike and headed down the boulevard to Night for Night. With the warm summer-night air rushing over her skin, she was tempted to keep going, maybe never return. She wondered if anyone would miss her besides her dad. Mateo would—at least in the beginning. But things had grown so tense between them it wouldn’t take long before he realized he was better off without her.
But Layla wasn’t a quitter. And so she left her bike at the curb and nodded at James as he unhooked the velvet rope and ushered her in.
The plan was to swing by Ira’s table long enough to show her face and say a quick hello, then get the hell out of there. She was in no mood to party. All she wanted to do was climb into bed, pull the covers over her head, and never emerge.
She moved through the club, making her way toward Ira, when a fight broke out on the dance floor, scattering the crowd and leaving Layla to stare in disbelief to find Ryan Hawthorne, Madison Brooks, and Aster Amirpour at the center of the fight.
“How could you?” Madison cried, her lips trembling, cheeks glistening under the glow of the copper lanterns, as Aster gaped in shock, Ryan wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and Layla instinctively reached for her cell, set it to video, and edged closer.
Screw the restraining order. Layla was a professional, and this was too good to pass up.
Aster reached for Madison, attempting to calm her, only to have Madison lash out like an injured animal.
“Get away from me!” Madison yelled. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
Ryan jumped between them, hands raised in surrender. “Mad—what are you doing?” His voice was incredulous, his gaze darting wildly, taking in the number of witnesses, before returning to his enraged A-list girlfriend.
“I stopped by, hoping to surprise you. It’s been weeks since we’ve seen each other, and now I know why!” She pointed an accusing finger at Aster, as Aster cringed behind Ryan, and Ryan moved to placate Madison, looking angry for sure, but not necessarily surprised.
Layla snuck closer, viewing the scene via her cell phone. Hardly able to believe she’d scored a front-row seat to what would be the most talked-about story for weeks—months if it turned out to be a slow summer for scandal. She centered her focus on Madison’s eyes spilling fast tears, repeatedly asking Ryan why, as Aster stood awkwardly behind him.
It was the performance of a lifetime, that much was sure, and Layla continued to record it, following Madison as she raced for the door. Her head bent, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, she darted through a crowd that strangely allowed her to pass without incident, until she reached the place where Layla stood, lifted her chin, and looked right at her, almost as though Madison had expected to see Layla standing in that very spot.
Then again, it happened so fast, Layla couldn’t be sure how much she’d made up in her head, thanks to her own panic at being discovered less than fifty feet away from the person who’d recently brought stalking charges against her.
When Ira stepped in to say a few words, Layla strained to hear, but the music muffled his voice. She was just about to stop recording when Madison reached the entrance at the same moment Tommy arrived. And Layla watched in shock as Tommy tossed a protective arm around Madison’s shoulder, whispered into her ear, and led her out the door and into the night.
THIRTY-THREE
HOW TO SAVE A LIFE
Madison was shaking.
She also looked upset, like someone who’d just experienced something they wouldn’t recover from anytime soon.
It had all happened so fast there was no time to think. One moment Tommy was entering the club, figuring he’d hang long enough for Ira to notice his presence, and the next Madison was barreling toward him, her face covered in tears. So Tommy did the only thing he could: he shouted at everyone to back the hell off, tossed his jacket over her shoulders, then walked her to her car, climbed behind the wheel, and drove around until he was sure they hadn’t been tailed, before stopping at the Vesper and hiding her in one of the back rooms while waiting for the club to clear and it was safe for her to be there.
The most surprising thing was Madison’s willingness to go along with his half-baked plan without a single word of protest. Then again, she’d barely spoken. It was like she was lost in her own little world, happy to let someone else take charge.
“You okay?” Tommy asked, once she was settled. Casting an anxious gaze at her beautiful face, noting how small and vulnerable she looked wearing his leather jacket. All the while repeating in his head, She’s just a girl—a girl in crisis. She needs peace, comfort, quiet, and a little support. You can handle it.
Madison tugged the sleeves over her fingers and pressed them tightly to her lips for a moment, before dropping her hands to her lap as though surrendering a burden she’d carried too long. “God, I probably look terrible.” She drew her shoulders in, gazing at him through bright, glossy eyes.
“Not possible.” He claimed the seat across from her and offered a beer. He hoped she liked beer. From all the pictures he’d ever seen, she normally drank champagne. But the Vesper didn’t serve champagne, and from the first day they’d met, he’d had the feeling Madison could kick back a cold one as good as any girl back home. From the way her fingers clutched at the frosty bottle, pressing it first to her cheek, then to her forehead, before taking a sip, he’d been right about that much at least.
“Thanks for getting me out of there.” The look she gave him was far more grateful than such a small act deserved. “Very gallant of you.” She tapped the neck of her bottle to his and took another sip.