“Trust me.”
We walk down the ramp from the airplane into the LA airport, and Nora is instantly recognized. An unfamiliar voice shouts, “It’s Nora Hayes!”, and chaos ensues. People swarm us. Fans and photographers whip out cameras to get a picture while shouting questions.
“Nora! We love you!”
“Who’s the guy?”
“What really happened with Todd? When will we get your story?”
This is nuts.
“Please tell me you have a plan,” I whisper, rushing us without much of a clue as to where I’m going.
“I do. His name is Bo.”
Just then, we’re plucked out of the crowd by a hoard of men in black suits and ushered toward a dark SUV. Once inside, Nora pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, blows out a breath, and smiles.
“Welcome to LA.”
I pull the glasses from my eyes. “Jesus Christ, that was intense. Is it like that all the time?”
“Usually it’s worse,” Bo says, climbing into the driver’s seat. He puts the car in drive and inches his way onto the road.
“Much worse,” another guy says. He’s sitting in the front seat and looks just as menacing as Bo, if not more so.
My eyebrows disappear into my hairline. “Worse?”
Bo gives me a look in the mirror. You ain’t seen nothing yet, son. “Just wait until the premiere.”
Nora is completely unfazed by the mob of people yelling and screaming on the street, trying to get a look at us through the windows.
If I had forgotten that she was a celebrity before, it’s clear now.
“How long until we’re at your place?”
“Depends on traffic. My house is in Calabasas, which is about thirty minutes away.”
Nora cuddles up to me in the backseat and points out various landmarks, buildings, streets, and houses as we weave through various neighborhoods.
I take it all in—the people, the palm trees, the vibe—and when we pull up to a fancy gate, Bo slows to a stop and punches in a code.
“You live in a gated community?”
Nora shrugs. “It’s nothing fancy.”
“Babe, if it’s in a gated community, it’s fancy.”
She purses her lips and looks out the window. “It’s confining. I’d much rather be out at your place with a big, open yard and lots of room to run around.”
“Here we are.” Bo pulls to a stop in the circle drive, and I look out the window at a beautiful tan-and-white stucco home. The entry way is arched, showcasing a set of wooden doors, and the intricate landscaping puts my shrubs to shame.
Nora pushes open the door and climbs out. “Come on.”
“This is beautiful. I can’t believe you were dying to take a bath at my place. I can’t imagine what your tub looks like.”
“There isn’t a tub.”
“You’re kidding?”