“Everyone’s busy in LA.” Layla rolled her eyes. “Our social status is entirely dependent on our ability to keep the appearance of a jam-packed schedule.”
Trena grinned. Slowly, the ice was starting to crack.
“Aster says the interview went well.”
Trena lifted her shoulders and, in a display of false modesty, said, “It airs tonight, so we’ll see.”
“You haven’t watched it?”
“Haven’t had time.” Trena tapped her fingers on the base of her glass. No point in alerting Layla to just how much she had riding on this and whatever information she might or might not choose to divulge. “Have you seen a lot of Aster?”
“She just got out.” Layla’s gaze drifted toward the door, which was not a good sign.
“I meant that in relative terms.”
“Compared to her family, yeah, I guess I’ve seen her a lot.” She fidgeted in her seat, picked at the edge of her woven place mat.
“She still hasn’t met with her family?”
Layla’s features sharpened. “That’s a complicated situation, though it’s not really my place to discuss it.”
Damn. Trena had played that poorly by sounding too eager, and now she was forced to pull back and switch gears if she had any hope of moving forward again. “Should we order?” She motioned toward the menus placed on top of the square glass chargers. “They’re known for their perfectly aged grass-fed steaks, but trust me, the kale salad is not to be missed.”
Layla shook her head. Acting like she hadn’t even heard Trena, she said, “Who’s that girl?”
Trena met Layla’s questioning look with one of her own.
“The one you were sitting with.”
“You mean my assistant?”
“Assistant or bodyguard?”
Trena followed Layla’s gaze all the way to where Priya was seated at the bar with a clear view of their table.
“She didn’t want to disturb us,” Trena said, though in truth Trena was just as surprised to find Priya watching as Layla was. She’d thought for sure she’d moved on.
“I know her.” Layla’s brows pinched together as though she was trying to place her.
“Priya?” Trena glanced over her shoulder again, watching as Priya spoke furtively into her phone. It wasn’t all that unusual that she and Layla might know each other. After all, they were both young, both interested in journalism.
“I never knew h
er name, but I could swear she interviewed for the Unrivaled contest.”
Trena watched as Priya, still on her phone, slung her bag over her shoulder and left. It wasn’t until the door swung closed behind her that Trena turned back toward Layla. “Are you sure?” Trena’s mind reeled in reverse. She was positive Priya had never mentioned that, and it seemed like the kind of thing that would be strange to leave out. Especially in light of the Madison story Priya was helping her research.
“Well, I can’t be one hundred percent positive, no.” Layla shrugged. “There were a ton of people there, and we mostly kept to ourselves.”
“So she wasn’t chosen to be one of the contestants?”
Layla shook her head.
“Well, I guess that’s not all that surprising. She doesn’t seem like the nightclub-promoting type,” Trena said, less because she believed it to be true, and more to salvage her faith in her own instincts.
“And I do?” Layla laughed, took a quick glance at the menu, then pushed it away. “Who knows what Ira was thinking when he said no to her and yes to me?” She shrugged. “Anyway, I can’t stay. I just wanted to stop in and say hey.”
Trena fought to keep herself from groaning. Great. A hit-and-run. Not what she’d envisioned when she’d set up the meeting. Also, the brief mention of food made her realize she really was hungry.