“License and registration?” The officer barked and surveyed the interior of the car. The flashlight jumped over to Frank as he drew the paperwork from the glove compartment.
I scrambled for my purse.
We were silent while the officer scanned our IDs. A few moments later, he dipped his head and asked, “Is this your vehicle, Mr. Bla— I mean, Mr. Wallace?”
Frank nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Is this the V-12 model?”
“That’s right.”
“How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s better. Thank you.”
The officer handed us the paperwork and the IDs. His eyes darted to me, then back to Frank. “Mr. Wallace, I’m supposed to give you and Ms. Evans a citation for public indecency.”
My heart thundered in my chest. I’d been corrupted and compromised by the golden boy of hard rock and his cock.
“I understand.” Frank nodded. “Could we leave Ms. Evans out of it and just write one for me?”
Who said chivalry was dead?
The officer cleared his throat. “I suppose I can let you go with a warning.” I heard a smile in his voice. “My wife is a big fan. Would you sign an autograph for her?”
The dynamics between us shifted. The officer handed him a blank ticket form.
“What’s your wife’s name?” Frank asked, fishing out a pen from the glove compartment.
“Sarah.”
“Tell Sarah I said thank you for the support.” He scribbled a few words on the paper and returned it to the officer. “Apologies for the horrible handwriting. I’m still a bit sore.”
“It’s all good. She’ll be stoked. Will probably frame it. We’ve got all your records on vinyl.”
“Vinyl is the way to go.”
“Absolutely. That new guy, Marshall Burns… He’s got nothing on you.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You get better, Mr. Wallace.”
“Thank you.”
I rolled up the window and watched the officer walk back to his patrol car in the mirror. Grinning, Frank fixed his jeans and shirt.
“Oh my God, that was so close.” A sigh of relief escaped from between my lips.
We looked at each other and shared a laugh of amusement.
I spun in my seat and searched for my underwear.
Frank slid his hand over my thigh and whispered, “I have your panties, doll.”
“Well, give them back.”
“When we get home.”
“You want me to drive home like this?” I motioned at my disheveled dress. “What if we get pulled over?” Heat pooled between my legs and I shivered.
“We won’t as long as you don’t speed.” He smirked. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Nine
Levi and I waited for Margerie Helm, the manager of Melrose Cinema, at the concessions area. Dressed in business casual, we sat on the couch and gawked at the dark, vintage-styled interior. The theater wasn’t open to the public yet, and the only people inside were employees tidying up the foyer.
I’d spoken to Margerie on the phone and we’d exchanged a few emails, but she was a thorough woman. She wanted to meet in person before giving us a definite answer.
“Did you two go to the movies?” Levi grunted, handing me his phone.
“Yes.” Sore from last night’s sex marathon, I was daydreaming. Frank and I had hardly slept. We’d fucked some more after we got home. First in the shower, then in the bedroom. Then in the shower again. Every muscle in my body ached.
“You’re on TMZ again,” Levi croaked.
I took his phone and scrolled through the gallery of blurred photos of Frank and me inside the theater and the headline.
“Frankie Blade and His Girlfriend Spotted in West Hollywood: The Singer Treats the Entire Theater to Popcorn”
“Was the movie any good?” Levi asked as I returned the phone.
“It was decent.”
Smiling, he shook his head and checked the time. We were both quiet for a bit. My mind drifted back to Frank. I wanted us to spend as much time together as possible before he left for rehab. I knew I was playing with fire and breaking my own rules, but I hated my life without him. I hated waking up and going to sleep alone.
“You sure you don’t want to come with?” Levi probed. The album release party that Dante organized was tonight.
“I’m sure.”
“All right. Suit yourself.” He paused for a few seconds, then continued, “Gonna be a lot of interesting people there. You could recruit a few more sponsors while we’re knocking out the interviews.”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t want your boyfriend to get butthurt?” Levi lowered his voice. “Is he scared of being in the same building with Marshall Burns?”
“Considering how he and the band parted ways, I don’t think he owes them anything. He’s not going. I’m not going either. End of story.”
“He wrote the damn album. You’re taking his side on this because you two are together, but if you look at it from my perspective, he’s a train wreck. He deserted the project he, himself, initiated and he’s playing the victim. In reality, he simply isn’t fit for touring. Everyone knows it. Instead of scheduling a bunch of dates across the globe, he should have started with one-off shows to see if he was able to keep up with the routine. Now half the planet hates him. It’s like seeing a fucking pie you like and buying the whole thing, eating it and then getting food poisoning.”
“What is it with men and food metaphors?” I rolled my eyes.
“I sorta hate his ass for stealing you from me,” Levi confessed, dropping his gaze to his phone. “You were my girl. I found you first.”
“Awe. You’re so sweet.” I laughed quietly.
“Me and you, Cass… We were the shit. Dream fucking team. I want you by my side when we get our office space.”
“I thought you and Shayne were hitting it off.”
Levi slipped his phone back into his pocket and moved closer. “She’s great in front of the camera. We’re rocking it when we’re on location, but she’s so fucking unorganized… You have no idea. I texted her last night to make sure she remembered to meet me at my place at three and she hasn’t even read the message yet.”
“She’s probably
