JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 106 из 138Which means I change my mind about one thing: I hope Stephendoes have sex like Sting… on one of his best days too.
Twenty minutes later, Michael storms through the door of Starbucks. All at once, the loitering latte drinkers glance up from their laptops.
“What the hell are you looking at?” says Michael’s expression. “Go back to writing your stupid spec screenplays that will never get made!”
He spots me and hurries over. “They still in there?” he asks, nodding at the hotel.
“Yes, thankfully,” I answer.
He frowns, and I get it immediately. Thankfully really isn’t the right word. As much as he wants to catch Penley red-handed, I have to remember this isn’t something he relishes.
In fact, he seems completely on edge and on the verge of going over the top, which is something I don’t want to experience.
That look of doubting me, of thinking that I’m “Crazy Kristin,” is entirely gone from his eyes, though. He knows I’m not mistaken or making it up. This is real.
He asks me to tell him everything again, from my first steps following Penley to when I called his office. “Give me every detail, Kris,” he says. And I do. Right down to their room number.
Of course, there is one thing I leave out, and that’s the other room and the music. Was there really no one in there? Was there even music playing?
Michael pulls back a sleeve to reveal his Rolex. “How long has it been?”
“About an hour,” I say, watching him tap his loafer impatiently. “Just so you know, they’ll probably come out separately. That’s how they arrived.”
He bristles. “She’s walking out of a hotel, for Christ’s sake. At eleven in the morning. Alone or not, what more do I need to see?”
He sees it anyway, the whole sloppy enchilada.
To my utter disbelief, Penley and Stephen emerge together seconds later. How brazen. How stupid. How very Penley.
And how enraged Michael becomes.
I’m watching him watch them, his face reddening, his nostrils flaring. Maybe a picture would’ve been better. I’m afraid he might explode right here in the coffee shop.
Then it gets even worse.
Penley and Stephen engage in one hot and heavy, no doubt about it kiss. It’s the money shot, and while I no longer need to capture it on film, I do anyway. The photographer’s instinct takes over. Don’t think, just shoot.
As for Michael, it’s as if he’s watching a spectacular car wreck. He can’t turn away from the Kiss. I don’t really blame him. It is compelling stuff, in a sick sort of way.
Twenty minutes later, Michael storms through the door of Starbucks. All at once, the loitering latte drinkers glance up from their laptops.
“What the hell are you looking at?” says Michael’s expression. “Go back to writing your stupid spec screenplays that will never get made!”
He spots me and hurries over. “They still in there?” he asks, nodding at the hotel.
“Yes, thankfully,” I answer.
He frowns, and I get it immediately. Thankfully really isn’t the right word. As much as he wants to catch Penley red-handed, I have to remember this isn’t something he relishes.
In fact, he seems completely on edge and on the verge of going over the top, which is something I don’t want to experience.
That look of doubting me, of thinking that I’m “Crazy Kristin,” is entirely gone from his eyes, though. He knows I’m not mistaken or making it up. This is real.
He asks me to tell him everything again, from my first steps following Penley to when I called his office. “Give me every detail, Kris,” he says. And I do. Right down to their room number.
Of course, there is one thing I leave out, and that’s the other room and the music. Was there really no one in there? Was there even music playing?
Michael pulls back a sleeve to reveal his Rolex. “How long has it been?”
“About an hour,” I say, watching him tap his loafer impatiently. “Just so you know, they’ll probably come out separately. That’s how they arrived.”
He bristles. “She’s walking out of a hotel, for Christ’s sake. At eleven in the morning. Alone or not, what more do I need to see?”
He sees it anyway, the whole sloppy enchilada.
To my utter disbelief, Penley and Stephen emerge together seconds later. How brazen. How stupid. How very Penley.
And how enraged Michael becomes.
I’m watching him watch them, his face reddening, his nostrils flaring. Maybe a picture would’ve been better. I’m afraid he might explode right here in the coffee shop.
Then it gets even worse.
Penley and Stephen engage in one hot and heavy, no doubt about it kiss. It’s the money shot, and while I no longer need to capture it on film, I do anyway. The photographer’s instinct takes over. Don’t think, just shoot.
As for Michael, it’s as if he’s watching a spectacular car wreck. He can’t turn away from the Kiss. I don’t really blame him. It is compelling stuff, in a sick sort of way.