Locked (PresLocke Series Book 2) (15 page)

“Well, dear. What do you say?” my mother started up again, relentless in her quest now that she’d posed the most insulting of questions to me. I knew my face had to relay to everyone who was looking—and I was convinced that was well over a hundred people at this stage—just how disgusted I was. But at least the sunglasses I’d jammed up my nose to cover my eyes could hide some of the…what?
Shock, hurt, and anger…
that my parents were doing this here—in public.

“What do I say?” I said between clenched teeth. I leaned across the table until I could lower my voice to a whisper and know I would still be heard, and asked, “Are you serious? Do you really for one second think I would do what you just suggested?”

My mother’s eyes widened a fraction at the tone of my voice, but I’d just about had all I could take. And considering that was probably more than the average person being drilled about their love life, I thought she was lucky I hadn’t gotten up from the table and walked the fuck out.

Trying to continue the ruse of a happy family outing, my mom reached for her water and took a sip before replying. “I think you should consider it carefully, Ace. We are only thinking of your career and all your hard work.”

“I’m not going back in the fucking closet, no matter how many jobs I lose.”

“Ace—” my dad started, but I shook my head.
 

“No, you two don’t get to have an opinion anymore about how I live my life. I did what you said for years, too many years, and I was miserable. I’m not putting a woman on my arm and calling it a day. No one would believe it now anyway.”

“Just think about what you’re doing,” my mom said in a hushed whisper, cracks of frustration beginning to show through her sweet tone. “Look at the roles you’ve already been fired from. And your spokesman responsibilities? We’re talking millions of dollars here, Ace. You might not recover from this.”

“If I don’t, I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”

“You think that now, but what will you
do
with your life?” she said.
 

My lips went tight. “I guess I’ll take up a pottery class. Try my hand at bartending. Or
maybe
I should just find something a little gayer—”

“That’s enough,” my father said, and my mom put her hand over his in a move that had him shutting his mouth.

Then she gave a quick side-glance at the camera and when she looked back at me, she smiled. “Look, sweetie, we aren’t saying you can’t be”—her eyes darted around us and she leaned forward—“
gay
. That’s your choice and your private life, but this is about so much more than that. I mean, Dylan seems like a nice enough man, but is he really worth throwing away everything you’ve worked so hard for—”

“Yes!” I exploded, and the chatter going on around us ceased. All eyes—well, the ones that weren’t already on us—turned in our direction, and I had to physically put my hand over my jaw to keep it shut. It wasn’t like I didn’t know this conversation was coming. Hell, my parents had been helping arrange my “girlfriends” for years, but I didn’t think they’d want to put me on blast in public, not when any of these people could, and would, go running to those cameras after we left with the scoop.

I pushed the plate away, too sick to my stomach to even try to shove anything into it. When I looked up again, my mom had a heartbroken expression, and I knew what that meant—the tears were next. They usually worked on me, too, but not this time. Whatever was coming was getting shut down real fast.
 

“But…what about us?” she said in a small voice. “Haven’t you thought about what people will think of us—”

“No,” I said.

“And what if we end up destitute? We’re retired now, and your father has bad knees, so how can you ask us to go back to work—”

“Okay, just stop right there. You know damn well you both are set for life. If what I’ve put aside for you isn’t enough, take it all. I don’t want it. I’m happy for the first time in my life. Do you understand? Can’t you just let me have that?” Not even caring about the answer, I stood, and wasn’t oblivious to the way everyone watching angled their cameras to get the shot of me on my feet.
 

Ugh,
this fishbowl routine was making me want to fucking scream. The pressure from every facet of my life was closing in on me, and the longer I stayed there, the more claustrophobic I felt. This was the problem with this level of fame. Oh, it came with a lot of glitz, glam, and money. But every little thing you did was monitored. It was judged, scrutinized, and analyzed until you wanted to rip your damn hair out. And the longer I sat there without Dylan by my side and an angry expression on my face, the more I knew the stories circulating were gonna be so jacked up I would want to kick everyone’s ass.

I tossed my napkin onto the table and glared down at my parents. “I’m leaving,” I announced, just in case that wasn’t clear. “I’ll let the hostess know to bill me once you’re done, and I’ll have Frank come and pick you up.”

“What?
Ace
,” my mom said, her eyes as round as the bread plate in front of her, scandalized now. “You are not walking out of here and leaving us. Sit down.”

“No. I’m done. This conversation is over.” As I bit out the last word, a young woman chose that unfortunate moment to interrupt me.

“Excuse me, Mr. Locke?”
 

“What?” I snapped in a caustic tone as I whirled around to see a petite brunette with a pen and notepad in her hand.
Is she for fucking real?
 

It confounded me, the presumptiveness of the public. I understood my role, I loved my fans, but at some point I had to wonder if they forgot that we were human beings too. Because I couldn’t believe that anyone who saw me in this moment would believe it was a good time to come and ask for an autograph. Yet here she was, looking up at me as if I should just expect this kind of shit—and really, I should, right?
 

Jesus, the throbbing in my head was relentless, and I knew if I didn’t get out of there soon I was about to go postal.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you’re my favorite actor, and it’s my birthday, and oh my God, I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you.” The girl’s eyes glistened in excitement, a bright pink flush stained her cheeks, and I immediately felt the stab of guilt.
 

I rubbed my hand over my head and tried for a smile. “Well, happy birthday…?”

“Oh! It’s Amanda,” she said, and then bit down on her lip. “I mean,
I’m
Amanda.”

“Happy birthday, Amanda,” I said, nodding, and then I took the pen and paper from her. I scribbled out a quick message and signed my name, and when I handed the pad back to her, she put her hand on my arm.
 

“Can I have a hug too?”

“Uh…sure.”

“Ah, thank you,” she said, throwing her arms around me. “
Thief of Joy
is my favorite movie ever. I think I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

“Thanks, it’s one of my favorites too.”

“And, um, I just wanted to say…” She lowered her voice and I bent my head down to hear her. “I think you and Dylan are really cute. Like, together.”

When she pulled away, I swallowed hard. That was the first time anyone outside of Shayne and the girls had said anything even halfway accepting of Dylan and me, and I was struck by the emotion triggered by that one sentence spoken by a stranger.
 

I couldn’t find any words for the longest time, and then I finally managed to say, “I appreciate that,” before she headed back to her table and proudly showed off the message to the group she was dining with.
 

As I headed out to the valet, however, any sentimental feeling that’d been stirred got stomped to the ground. Once I stepped onto the sidewalk, at least a dozen or more different cameras were in my face, so many questions being shouted at me that I could barely decipher them individually.
 

“Ace, are you ditching your parents to fend for themselves because they disapprove of your relationship?”

It was like I was in the middle of a hurricane, photographers swirling around me on all sides, blocking my path as I struggled to shove myself through. My patience was wearing thin, as I said, “Please move.”

“Ace, aren’t you worried that Dylan could be using you for money after growing up in foster care?”

I stopped and scanned the sea of faces for the asshole that had said that.
Are they fucking serious with this shit?
 

“Can we just ask you—”

“Get out of my face,” I growled, holding up my hand to block the lens of the camera directly in my eye line. The flashes were blinding, and on top of that, I couldn’t see past the people crowding in on me to even take a step. “You need to move or someone’s going to get hurt.”

I pushed my way toward the driver’s side of my SUV, and I didn’t give two fucks that it sent people stumbling backward.

As I slammed the door shut and put the car in drive, I could only inch forward because of the mob surrounding the vehicle. All I could do was lay my fist down on the horn and pray I had enough patience to not run anyone over today.

* * *

I WAS STANDING at the counter in my miniscule kitchen with my cell phone secured between my ear and neck as I scribbled down the final date my agent Claudia had just relayed through the phone. The TV was on across from me, but the entertainment program that had been running round-the-clock surveillance on Ace’s lunch outing had gone to commercial after telling its viewers to stay tuned because they wouldn’t want to miss what was coming up next. Personally I wished their signal would fail so no one would find out what was up next, but so far…willing that to happen had yet to make it so.

“Dylan?” Claudia said, recapturing my attention. “Did you get all of that?”

I scanned the offers, and the companies
doing
the offering, and had to remind myself again that this was my life. It was ludicrous
.

These were dream jobs.
My
dream jobs. But they had all been on my radar for years from now. Goals to work toward when I’d come out here to L.A. Now, all of a sudden, after being connected to Ace, I had a deluge of work coming my way from all corners of the world and it was…it was…
Well, it’s overwhelming, and damn exciting.

Ace had been adamant that I enjoy the perks of what was coming my way, telling me it might be the one positive, work-wise, to eventuate from it. But I was still hesitant to actually believe any of it was real.
 

“Yeah, I got it. So I have the next couple of weeks free and then shit’s gonna get insane?”

“Insane in the best possible way ever. Dylan, you’re about to become one of the world’s most sought-after models.”

And it’s words like that which make this all seem unbelievable.
I was about to ask her if tomorrow morning was okay for me to come down and sign these contracts and get a proper schedule of my upcoming shoots when there was a loud banging on my front door.

“Hang on a sec, would you, Claudia?”

“Sure thing, hon.”

I tossed the pen down on the notepad and headed to the door when the pounding started up again, and I had a feeling I knew exactly who was on the other side of the—

“Hey,” I said by way of greeting as I opened the front door.
 

“Hey,” was Ace’s gruff reply as he brushed by me and marched inside. I saw the familiar swarm of photogs down on the lawn clicking away, and it took everything inside of me not to give them the finger.

Lifting the phone back to my ear, I said, “Claudia, I’ll have to call you back,” and then shoved my cell in my pocket. Ace’s eyes were on the television screen, and I reached for the remote and quickly shut it off.

“I’d ask how you are, but…” I said, tossing the remote on the couch.
 

“Yeah. Not fucking good.”
 

“I can see that. Saw that.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. As Ace’s gaze lifted to mine, there was a defeated expression there that I hadn’t seen from him before, but it was also mixed with a spark of rage, and that look had me terrified to hear his next words. He was going to say it was too much. That I wasn’t worth the harassment he endured every time he stepped out of the house. That our relationship couldn’t sustain the blow his career had taken. That it had been fun, a nice dip in the relationship waters, but it wasn’t the right time, and I wasn’t the right guy.
 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he turned away, his hand squeezing the back of his neck. “I thought I was stronger than this, but I can’t…”

Unable to stand still, I took the steps needed to reach him, and even though I knew what he was going to say, I still needed to touch him.

“Ace. It’s okay,” I said, wanting to reassure him that I wanted what was best for him even if it meant breaking my heart.

He whirled around so fast it knocked my hand off. “Can we just go? Somewhere? Anywhere?”

“What?”

“They’re everywhere, following us constantly, saying the most horrible shit, and I can’t even escape my goddamn parents. Let’s just go away.”

My brain was trying to keep up with what he was saying, but all I could feel was relief that the words I’d been expecting hadn’t come out of his mouth. Instead, he wanted to— “You want us to go away somewhere…together? Am I hearing you right?”

“Well, I’m not leaving without you.”

I knew the smile that spread across my face then had to be super out of place, but damn if what he’d just said didn’t melt the ice from seconds ago.

“What on earth could you possibly have to smile about right now?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, sounding anything but as I took a step to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. When I leaned back a little I continued to beam up at him, and Ace’s frown merely deepened between his brows.

“Okay, you’re starting to appear a little deranged now,” he said.

“I
thought
you were here to break up with me, you big…”