Rock Star's Girl (A Hollywood Dating Story #1) - Jennifer Farwell Page 0,55

to be okay if I leave now for spin class? Keep your phone turned off, perhaps?”

“There’s not much more anyone can do to me,” Emily pointed out. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

“Okay, call me later.” Shelby leaned in to hug her, then gathered her purse and her keys from the table.

“Do some extra spinning to get out some frustration for me,” Emily called after her. Shelby just shook her head again as she closed the door.

Emily stretched out on her sofa, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. She turned up the volume on her TV, hoping the noise would drown out her thoughts.

Just as she started humming along to music on a commercial, she heard a knock on her door.

She stopped humming. Go away, she silently willed the person at her door. I don’t need to deal with any more of humanity today.

The insistent knock continued. As quietly as she could, she got up from the sofa and tiptoed to her door. When she looked out the peephole, she saw Jesse standing in the hall. Still on tiptoe, she moved away from the door.

Jesse knocked again, but this time his knock was accompanied by his voice. “Emily, open the door. I heard you humming, so I know you’re there.”

Wonderful, she thought. “When someone doesn’t open their door, it means they don’t want to talk to you,” she called out. “Go home, please.”

“I’ll go home when you tell me why you left the other day.” He waited a few seconds for her to respond. When she didn’t, he continued. “You can let me in, or I can stay out here all day and let your neighbors tip off Wally Hood.”

“My neighbors have a lot more class than that.” She returned to the door and flung it open. “It’s the one who has supposedly been my friend for years that I can’t say the same for.” She walked away from Jesse, leaving the door open.

He stepped inside of her apartment, closing the door behind him. “It’s good to see you, too.”

She glared at him. “How did you get in the building?”

“Someone else who lives here was opening the door to come inside when I got here. Why are you so angry with me?” He’d already asked her that in both a text message and a voicemail he’d left her. So far, she hadn’t answered him.

“You’re serious?” She raised an eyebrow.

He ignored her question. “Everything was fine when I left to go to the store the other day. I came back, and you came flying out of the house looking furious, just like you do right now. Did something happen while I was at the store?”

A sharp laugh escaped her lips. “Yeah, it did. You and Bailey were exposed for who you really are.”

“And that is?”

“Famewhores, apparently. You knew our night in Santa Monica would make the tabloids and start all of this, because you guys were the ones who tipped off Wally Hood. Of course there was someone staking out my apartment, waiting for the perfect photo op.”

“I realize you’re under a lot of stress right now, but did you hear what you just said?” He took a step toward her.

She took a step back. “Stress didn’t make me imagine the texts to Wally Hood on Bailey’s cell phone.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then maybe you should ask your manager about it and find out why he’s been letting Wally Hood know when you’re with me.”

“Come again?” Jesse rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin.

“Don’t play dumb. Was Bailey the one who suggested you take me somewhere so you’d be seen in public with me, just so you could get your name in the headlines?”

“Okay, stop.” He held up his hand. “I know you’re still upset about us being followed that night, but why are you looking to blame me or Bailey?”

“Because when you went to the store that day, I happened to be right beside Bailey’s phone when he got a text from Wally Hood that included my name and yours. And yes, I’ll admit I went snooping on his phone.” She walked into her dining room.

He followed her. “I swear I had no idea.”

“Well now you do. So what are you going to do about it?” She sank down into a chair at the table and propped her head up with her hand.

Jesse sat down across from her. “What am I going to do about what? I don’t think I can make articles and