SLEAZE: A Hollywood Comeback Story (Book #1)

Chapter 29

I drove past my apartment several times that evening, each time hoping that the next time I circled back around, Sophie’s BMW would have vanished from the complex’s visitor parking place. I gave up after the fifth loop and backed into an empty spot across the street, killing the engine so that I could watch her for a while. She lay stretched across the front seat of her high-end sedan, tapping the toe of her ballet flat against the passenger's side window at a furious tempo. It almost looked like she was trying to kick her way through the glass. Although I couldn’t see much of Sophie's face beneath the massive sunglasses and ridiculous black sunhat she wore, I could make out enough of a scowl that I pulled out my phone and contemplated calling Scott to ask if I could crash at his place for the night.

A part of me hoped that she'd just stopped by to hang out but judging by how the rest of the day had gone, I had a hunch that chatting over a spread of Pop-Tarts and Top Ramen was the last thing on her mind. And, while hiding from her would certainly be the easiest option, for all I knew, she was planning on camping in her car until I finally gave up and came home—or worse, maybe she’d storm into my office one morning while Michael listened in the hallway.

I sighed and rested my forehead on the steering wheel, closing my eyes as the tip of my nose brushed against its center hub. I rarely drove without music blaring but there were few places on earth that I found more comforting than the driver’s seat of a silent car. My racing thoughts began to slow down after a few deep breaths and I felt myself beginning to drift off…

Moments away from giving into the sleep that I desperately needed, I fumbled with the car door handle and jumped down onto the asphalt, not bothering to check for traffic before hitting the remote lock button and jogging across the street. Engrossed with something on her phone, Sophie flinched, startled, when I knocked on her Bimmer’s front window. 

“Hey,” I said once Sophie had crawled out of the car.

She stood with her purse cradled to her chest, hugging the leather sack like a shield. “I need to talk to you,” she said flatly, her response unsurprising.

Nodding, I tightened my grip around the keys in my hand until the ridges dug painfully into my palm. “My apartment’s kind of a mess.”

The look on Sophie’s face as she slammed her car door shut was withering. “I really don’t care.”

“Okay.”

I turned towards the steps leading to my apartment and climbed them two at a time. Sophie was following so closely behind that I could feel her breath on the back of my neck while I worked the door’s lock. Stepping inside, I tossed my jacket and keys onto the kitchen counter before hurrying to gather the discarded pieces of dirty laundry I’d shed around the living room over the course of the week.

“What’s new?” I asked, chucking the last of my cartoon boxers into the hallway cabinet before turning to face her.

Sophie returned her sunglasses to their protective designer case before rolling her carefully made-up eyes. “You mean since last night?”

       I shrugged.

       “Not much, really,” Sophie said slowly, staring at something beyond my ear. “Spin class, shopping… Pretty standard day. You?”

“All’s quiet on the western front.”

The corner of Sophie’s mouth rose and fell and I motioned towards the couch. “Sorry, you can sit down. Do you want anything to drink?”

“What do you have?” Sophie moved to take a seat, setting her purse down gently beside her. She stared down at her lap, crossing her legs this way and that before finally stretching them out straight in front of her. I watched while she kicked her feet up and down in a way that reminded me of a petulant child.