SLEAZE: A Hollywood Comeback Story (Book #1)

Chapter 43

With Michael's assurance that he'd clear my absence with HR, I booked an appointment at an independent tuxedo shop that Friday and left work early to get fitted for my suit. I still hadn't called Scott back, though that was largely out of cowardice more so than anything else. My phone weighed heavily in my back pocket while I walked through the rental place's parking lot, reminding me of how guilty I felt for ignoring my friend's last twenty calls. The springtime sunshine shone down relentlessly, warming the back of my neck to a steady boil as I hurried across the asphalt towards a sliver of shade. I neared the tuxedo store's entrance but stopped in my tracks when my phone came to life with a pulsating buzz. I pulled my cell out past my belt loop and grimaced when I saw the name that popped up on the screen, knowing that it was time to face the inevitable.

"Hello?" I answered, dread coursing through me when Scott grunted impatiently on the other end of the line.

"Finally," he muttered, and I could tell from that single word that I was in for it. "Thanks for never calling me back, asshole."

"Hey, man," I said, reaching up and running my hand through my hair. Sweat was collecting on my brow and I brushed it away, though not before making a mental note to get my hair trimmed before Armada's party. "Sorry I didn't answer earlier; I got swamped at work today."

"Oh, yeah? And yesterday? You've been blowing me off all week!"

I hesitated as I tried to come up with an excuse and then realized none existed. "You're right, I'm sorry. What's up?"

"What's up?" I cringed when I heard the burning irritation in Scott's tone. I'd hoped that giving him time would lessen his fury but it seemed like that plan had backfired spectacularly. "What's up is that my life completely sucks and my best friend doesn't give a shit."

"Aw, come on, Scott," I said, wiping off the unyielding perspiration that was now collecting on my forehead. "Do you want to get together tomorrow or something? I'll come to campus, we can go for a couple of beers and catch the game."

"Oh, well, fantastic." The sarcasm in Scott's voice was scathing. "To what do I owe the tremendous honor of your presence? You gonna ignore me the entire time we're out, too?"

"Dude, calm down." I fiddled with the collar of my shirt. "I said I was sorry, alright? I told you, I've been busy... You know, with Sophie and stuff. I meant to call you back and forgot. No need to be so pissed off."

"Are you kidd—no need to be pissed off?" Scott repeated, the words coming out strangled. I could picture the vein in his neck pulsing wildly as he breathed in deeply and a loud crackling noise came over the receiver with each agitated huff. Caught in a stalemate, neither of us spoke until Scott eventually sighed.

"Alright, whatever, man," he said, relenting. "It's fine. I'm not even really mad at you. Just stressed, I guess."

That threw me. "Huh?"

"Yeah, you could've given me a heads-up that you were planning on going AWOL but I get it. Girlfriends get priority - it's cool."

"It's not like that," I protested, despite feeling like I'd dodged a very large bullet. Still, I couldn't accept my luck without pushing it a little bit further. "Did you say you're not mad at me?"

"Nah, sorry for biting your head off. It's not your fault that Dylan sold me out."

I blinked. "I missed that. What'd you say?"

"Freaking Dylan told Michael that I'm failing geology and now my parents are threatening not to pay my dues," Scott said with a defeated groan. "I'm going to miss Vegas unless I pull my grade up to a C in the next month."