Page 131 of Dirty Like Me
The waiter came with the bill, and Jessa took it before I could react. “It’s on me. I’ll have to get going once they run my card. I’ve got a shoot early tomorrow.”
“Jessa—”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I really am. I appreciate that you flew all the way here to talk to me, and that you did it out of love for my brother.”
“I—”
“I can see what this means to you. And now, thanks to your kind words, I can see what it means to him. And I’ll talk to him, I promise. He needs to know it means a lot to me, what he’s trying to do. But it won’t change anything.”
When we stood outside, moments later, I tried again.
“Jessa—”
“It’s alright, Katie. There’s nothing more anyone can say to change the fact. Not you. Not my brother. I love him. I love you for trying.” With that, she took me gently by the shoulders, leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek that left me cold. Then she held me out at arm’s length and said, “I’m not coming back.”
It was possibly the most depressing conversation I’d ever had. I just couldn’t figure out why.
As much as I’d wanted to bring her home, I realized that I’d also wanted to help. But I was so set on this being the way I got to Jesse that I had no idea if I’d helped or harmed. I had a sinking feeling in my gut, and for a moment, standing there on the curb watching Jessa walk away, I had a small taste of what Jesse must be feeling.
He was right. There was something desperately wrong with his sister.
I could see it. No, I couldfeelit.
I just had no idea what it was.
The valet pulled up with the car and Flynn got my door; Brody had insisted I have security in L.A.. “Any more stops, Katie?” he asked, once we were settled.
Right about now, I felt utterly defeated.
So what the hell was one more blow?
“That depends,” I said. “Can you get me to Elle?”
◊◊◊
Apparently, he could.
He encouraged me to call ahead, and when I told him I didn’t have the number, he suggested I get it from Jesse. When I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen, he drove me to a tree-lined street in the Hollywood Hills where soaring gates stood at the end of every drive and I saw not a single person.
Flynn parked on the street and got out, walked up to the end of the nearest drive, to the security box, and pressed the ringer. I saw him speaking, but couldn’t hear what was said. He then strolled back to the car and opened my door for me. “Go on in.”
I stepped out of the car just as the gate opened. I scooted up the drive, hearing the gate shut behind me, wondering if Elle was watching me on a security cam somewhere. I glanced back to see Flynn lounging against the car, ankles crossed, lighting a cigarette and watching me go.
No doubt he’d be on his phone the second I was out of eyesight, reporting to Jude or Jesse or both.
The house appeared through the trees, this beautiful Spanish-looking stucco thing with rounded corners and a huge double door of dark wood. A luxury SUV with tinted windows and a Ramones bumper sticker was parked in the drive. Before I could knock, the front door cracked, then swung open about two feet and stopped.
Elle stood there in the opening, staring at me.
First thing I noticed: she was shorter than she seemed at the club. She was probably wearing heels then. Now she was barefoot and just an inch or two taller than me.
She wore white skinny jeans with a floral pattern embroidered up the sides, and a small cream-colored crochet halter over her tan torso, a gold string bikini top beneath. Her long white-blond hair was pulled back from her face in several chunky braids, the braids and her loose hair all side-swept into a messy ponytail that hung over one shoulder. Without a trace of makeup she was beautiful, her clear steel eyes regarding me. And she wore glasses. Small rectangular frames, thin and a gunmetal color that went with her eyes.
I was glad I’d worn my sexiest jeans and a flattering ruffled strapless top; I’d dressed for dinner with a supermodel, which, as it turned out, was also the way to dress to face one’s fake boyfriend’s ex.
Elle tipped her head to the side, throwing a glance at the empty drive behind me, then fixed her gaze on me again. “Where’s Jesse?”
“On the road,” I said. Then I took a breath and said what I’d come to say. “It wasn’t real.”
