10. Fresh Meat
TEN
fresh meat
A week after our big public outing, Char sends us on a date. Brianna and I approach the restaurant hand in hand. I can’t believe this is the big plan to keep her safe. Act like a dumb diva and drag around a vapid boy toy? I hate it. I fight a wince every time she uses her high-pitched, nasal voice. At one point during our red-carpet launch date, she squeaked something to another musician, and I actually felt my stomach burn. It’s all for show, of course, so I’m making my peace with it.
I’ve got my game face ready: the pissed eye twitch I’ve been working on in the mirror for the past week. I scowl as we make our way past the crowd of people waiting outside for a table. Brianna waves without looking directly at anyone, as she tends to do. A clump of photographers shout as we pass by.
“Brianna! Are you guys dating?”
“Is this true love?”
“Where’d you meet this one?”
I’ve had no trouble ignoring them so far. It hasn’t been as big of a deal as Char made it sound. They want information about the new mystery guy Brianna’s been seen around town with over the past seven days, but I could care less about giving them a story .
The second we made it home after the perfume event, Char sent the two of us a group text with a photo of me and Brianna at the event. “It’s official!” she wrote, alongside a picture of Brianna smiling her most diva smile, while I glared off to the side, my hand firmly gripping her waist.
Since then we’ve been shopping around Melrose, sipping his and hers coffees, and ordering fast-food through drive-through windows. At least I was allowed to drive for those. Char made me take Brianna’s Tesla, which was an experience in itself, and it was almost impossible to look pissed while driving it. But the fast-food was another story. I haven’t eaten fried crap like that in years. I had no intention of actually eating the stuff, but Char said it had to look real. So I ate some, hoping someone would snap a shot of us noshing on French fries.
I paid dearly for eating those six fries. My stomach may never forgive me. It hurt like hell for hours. But someone did indeed get a shot, which made it promptly to the Star Tracker website. Mission accomplished.
That’s what everything feels like so far—a mission. Tonight’s date included. Char handed me a schedule the morning after the premiere. When I saw which fancy restaurant she’d booked for us, I almost choked on my protein shake.
Miso, where Jacob works, is the top restaurant to have sushi with celebrities, which now includes me. This is my biggest nightmare. Jacob will most likely be working, because weeknights are his usual time slot. I’ll never hear the end of this. I’m sure the entire night will be used against me for years to come.
My nerves amp up as Brianna and I walk through the door, not waiting for a table like the rest of humanity is forced to do. We’re led directly to the back of the restaurant, away from the prying eyes of the general patrons, and right to a semi-secluded booth. Low lights and dark woods mix with heavy red fabrics on the cushioned chairs. It’s a modern take on a traditional look. The private seating must be why celebrities flock here. That and the overpriced raw fish.
I’m sure the dimly lit environment also makes most people trying to stay out of sight feel comfortable. But when my job is to keep an eye out for potential dangers, the dark atmosphere increases my level of focus.
Our booth hides us from the rest of the diners, but it also makes it that much more difficult to keep my eye on everything. I don’t think I’m cut out for this. It’s fucking stressful. Worse than walking on Melrose, a popular tourist spot in LA, because at least there’s daylight on the street and we aren’t sitting ducks in the back of the room.
“Have you ever eaten here before?” Brianna asks quietly. When she’s confident no one can hear her, she uses her normal voice, like she is right now. I’m relieved not to have to hold back my cringe when she’s speaking anymore.
“No, but my roommate is a busboy here.” This should be awkward.
“Oh, really?” Brianna sounds interested, almost excited.
I’m not. More like dreading the potential interaction. Jacob doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.
“Do you like sushi?” she asks, looking over the menu.
I don’t want to answer her, because the menu is another reason I’m uncomfortable. I’m silent for long enough that her head snaps up and her eyes find mine.
“Oh, crap! You don’t, do you? Why didn’t you say anything?” Brianna sets the menu down, sounding genuinely worried about the whole thing.
“Because this is a job, not a date. It doesn’t matter whether I like sushi or not.” I shrug and look back at the menu, trying to find something cooked.
But it’s Brianna’s silence from the other side of the table that causes me to look up at her. I find her staring at me, but her eyes aren’t worried anymore. Now they just look sad.
“Hey, it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe you could recommend something. Preferably not raw, if at all possible.” I smile, trying to ease the awkward tension that’s been simmering between us for weeks now. I can’t seem to get a handle on it no matter what I try. Every time I think I’ve figured out a solution, Brianna ends up giving me the freeze-out and it’s back to square one.
She reaches across the table and pulls my menu down. Then she turns a page or two and points to something on it. “Let’s order this. It’s for two, and there should be something on it you like.”
We sip our water in silence after the waiter takes our order. My eyes continuously scan what little of the restaurant I can see from our booth. Nothing seems unusual or out of place. I wish I could relax, but it’s become impossible when I’m with her. There are too many potential dangers with how famous she’s become. Too many walls built between us now. Neither situation allows for my defenses to fall, otherwise who knows what the outcome might be?
It’s harder than I thought to be Brianna’s fake boyfriend and secret bodyguard at the same time.
I see the waiter approaching with a massive rectangular platter overloaded with a feast. He sets the dang thing between us in the middle of the table. A second waiter places down a bowl of soup and a bowl of rice in front of each of us.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asks as his assistant steps back.
I glance at Brianna to see if she’s good. Since she doesn’t speak up, I answer for us. “No, thanks. We’re fine.”
The waiter nods, and the two of them leave.
Brianna wordlessly picks up her chopsticks and starts pinching at cuts of steak. I glance across the platter in front of us and take in the array of food.
“Thanks for ordering,” I tell her as I grab a fork. “This actually looks really good.”
“It is good,” she says after finishing her bite. “What’s with the fork? Aren’t you a black belt?”
I laugh—the first time in three weeks I’ve actually laughed with her. “I may be the dojo master, but I can’t even begin to understand how chopsticks work. ”
Brianna smiles, chuckling quietly while reaching across the table to grab my chopsticks. She hands them to me, her brow raised in challenge. “Watch.” She demonstrates how each stick is placed between her thumb and middle finger, using her pointer finger as a guide.
What the heck? I shrug, giving it a try. And fail immediately. I drop the chicken into my lap.
Brianna covers her mouth, laughing at me. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out between laughs. “But that was so classic I can’t help it.”
I put the chopsticks down and grab my fork, shoveling a bite of chicken into my mouth. I say nothing—not that I’m angry. But if she thinks I’m a little irritated with her, I’m not going to do anything about it. Payback for the freeze-out over the past twenty-one days. But on these fake dates, she sure knows how to pretend to open up.
Her laughter dies down. The droop of her eyes tells me she’s embarrassed, and guilt hits me right between the eyes. She was finally trying. I ruined it.
“It’s okay. I’ll recover. Eventually.”
Brianna shyly looks up at me, so I wink.
We finish eating in awkward silence. The check soon follows, along with my worst nightmare.
Jacob.
He sidles up to the table, trying to seem more stealth than he comes off. What an idiot.
“Excuse me, sir, are you finished with these?’ he asks in a phony British accent, on par with Brianna’s diva persona.
“Yeah, douche. Take them away. I made sure to leave tons of remnants for you to scrape off,” I say without making eye contact. At the same time, I glance over Brianna’s shoulder at some guy staring at the back of her head. The booth isn’t high enough to completely obscure our view if a person gets close enough. And this guy is.
“Zack! Be nice!” Brianna’s says, shocked. But she’s also back to her diva-licious tone.
Perfect .
“Oh, don’t worry about this idiot.” I thumb over toward Jacob, keeping my eye on the other dude. “It’s just my roommate, Jacob, trying to score an introduction. But there’s no way I’m telling you about him.” I end with a smirk, bringing my eyes back to Jacob to see his face.
And it’s priceless.
Jaw on the floor, one hand on his chest, and back straight in mock indignation. Classic Jacob.
“Zack, you crush me. And here I thought we’d become the best of friends.” Then he achieves his goal by looking at Brianna and calling me out. “Don’t listen to him. This whole thing is going straight to his head. He’ll probably never be the same again.”
I laugh at his warning speech, though I’m surprised at how well he’s keeping his composure. I expected him to be a bigger fanboy.
“Is he driving you crazy with his healthy eating or his neatness disease?” Jacob leans a bit closer to Bree, forcing me to reach across and push him back a little. He whispers as he adds, “ He’s a total bore, am I right? ”
“Sheesh, Jacob!” I shake my head.
Brianna laughs though. Twice tonight? That’s a record. I’m also finding myself slightly relaxed. Brianna is being Brianna right now—another first, because she doesn’t know Jacob, and the only people I’ve seen her let her guard down around are those in her circle.
“Brianna, I thought that was you.”
The new voice is one I don’t recognize, but by Brianna’s suddenly stiff spine and her wide eyes, I get the feeling she does.
I look past where Jacob is standing to find the culprit. The guy who was staring at the back of her head. He’s dressed in some Eurotrash outfit, tight jeans and a pink collared shirt with the buttons only half-done. Tats all over his hands and his chest, swirling all the way up his neck. His eyes are on me, not Brianna. A challenge.
I’m up for a challenge right about now.
“Hi, Logan.” Her voice wavers slightly. “Um, we were just leaving. ”
Brianna wants to get up, but Logan is blocking her side of the booth. I slide out of my side and stand up. Jacob glares at the guy. He may like to mess with me, but the guy is as loyal as they come. There’s no way he’d let this jerk get away with anything. Too bad Jacob’s not as tough as he looks. He really should go to the gym once in a while.
I reach out to grab Brianna’s hand so I can pull her out of the booth, while simultaneously shoving my elbow into the guy’s chest. He squares his shoulders as if he could actually take me. I position myself between them as we walk out of the restaurant. Like a bad movie, Logan insists on following us out.
This probably won’t end well. At least not for him.
We get to the door and are stepping outside when I see a hand grab onto Brianna’s arm. She surprises the hell out of me when she twists back to Logan, still holding onto her, and uses the maneuver we’ve been working on—the one we practiced the day we filmed my karate routine. She did it perfectly then, and she does it again right now.
But the idiot can’t take a hint and tries to grab her again.
My turn.
I grab his hand out of Brianna’s—hard. He releases her but looks at me in that “how dare you?” way.
“Don’t touch her, man,” I warn, a menacing note in my voice.
“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” Logan threatens.
I step closer to her, not intimidated in the least. This I understand. This I can do. “The man she came here with. The man taking her home tonight. That’s who.”
His eyes narrow. His fists clench. “We’ll see about that.” His voice is low. He obviously doesn’t want anyone to hear this but me.
“Already leaving, so there’s no ‘seeing’ about anything.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see his clenched fist start to rear back. Without giving him any warning, I slam my elbow into his jaw. My forearm swings around, connecting with his face. It’s a harsh blow— enough force to knock him back, but not enough to leave a mark. His pretty-boy image won’t be compromised.
I say nothing as I notice every flash going off during our altercation. This will be on every tabloid website in minutes, no doubt. I don’t even want to know what Char will have to say about it. I keep a hand around Brianna’s. She’s a bit shocked, standing frozen in place as if she can’t believe what she just saw.
Me either.
I take us to the valet, pleased to see our car is ready and waiting. I help Brianna into the passenger seat and walk around to the driver’s side, all the while ignoring the taunts of the photographers shouting my name. They started using it after her perfume premiere, most likely having read up on everything about me.
Stone-faced, I get into the car, pulling away from the curb as soon as it’s clear.
But when we make it to the driveway of Brianna’s house after spending the entire journey in silence, I only have one word on my mind.
Shit.