I’m just wondering why the fuck I’m looking at you right now.”
He’s right, I did make that clear to him yesterday, but good God, his hate makes it hard to breathe. I push through, though. “I didn’t mean to listen to your conversation, but I heard bits of it. Are you okay?”
His eyes blaze with disbelief. Or maybe it’s distrust. “I’m good, but if I wasn’t, I sure as fuck wouldn’t need your concern or help, Chelsea.”
I swallow my hurt, but damn, it slides down like razors. Unsure whether to push the point and try to make him see I genuinely care, I stare at him for another long, few moments during which he watches me with a filthy look. Taking into account his stubborn streak, I nod and turn to leave. However, at the last minute, I look back at him and say, “When you love, you love like no other, Mason, but when you hate, it’s merciless.”
He doesn’t respond; he simply glares at me like he wishes he wasn’t looking at me.
I slip back into the ballroom, having made my decision to fix my hair for Joe. I can’t withstand two assholes in one night.
11
Gunnar
“Gunnar, can you please help me in the kitchen?” Harlow says about fifteen minutes after I arrive at her and Scott’s place on Saturday. Scott invited the club over for a barbecue lunch, and by the looks of it, there are about thirty people here so far. I’m not really in the mood for this, but I always show up for club get-togethers.
“Sure,” I say while wondering why the fuck she asked me. I’m not known for any special cooking talents.
She blasts me a huge smile. A fucking suspect smile if you ask me. One that indicates she’s up to something. “Thank you.”
I follow her into the kitchen where she puts me to work chopping salad. Yep, fucking suspect. She’s never asked me to do shit like this before.
Madison joins us, looking at Harlow and saying, “I can take over for you, honey.”
“I’m okay, but can you grab the mince out of the fridge and help me make the rissoles?”
“Sure, but don’t overdo it, okay?”
Harlow nods, but it’s clear even to me that she has no intention of sitting this out. Fuck knows why. If I was as pregnant as she is, I’d sit on my ass all day.
Madison gets to work on the rissoles. Looking at me, she says, “I saw your brother was in town last week. How is he?”
Fuck, these chicks love Hayden. His last four movies were blockbusters, and now every woman and her cat wants a piece of him, Madison included. She’s not as bad as most, because she’s actually hung out with him a few times over the years and knows he farts and burps like every other guy, but she follows the news and always knows when he’s in Australia.
“He’s good. Back in LA now to start work on a new movie.”
“Oh, is that Hayden?” Nash’s old lady asks as she comes into the kitchen carrying bags of chips.
“Yeah,” I say.
“I just watched his latest movie last week,” she says. “I loved it.”
“I fuckin’ loved it, too,” Nash says, coming in after her, “because it got me laid when I didn’t think I had a chance in hell of getting some that night.”
Velvet shoots him a dirty look. “You were being a dick that day.”
“No, I was doing what you asked me to do that day.”
Velvet dumps the chips on the kitchen counter and rolls her eyes at her husband. “Nash, you were being a dick. I asked you to do the laundry. You proceeded to just wash your shit. Huge dick. I wish I didn’t fuck you that night now that I’m thinking of it.”
Madison shakes her head at Nash. “I agree, that’s a dick move.”
A chick I’ve never met sticks her head in the kitchen, looking lost until she spots Harlow, at which point she smiles and says, “Hey, Harlow.”
Harlow grins at her and motions for her to come in. “Louise! You made it. Everyone, this is Louise, a friend of mine from the gym.” She goes around the kitchen, rattling off our names for the chick. When she gets to me, her smile grows, and she says, “Louise, this is Gunnar. Can you please help him with the salads?”
Louise smiles at me. “Hi.” Then to Harlow, she says, “Sure, and I brought some pasta salads too.”
Harlow nods at the fridge. “There should be enough