Page 94 of Work It Out
Hogrid had done much the same thing this morning, snuffling Jake’s hand where it had drooped over the side of the mattress. They’d given him milk and apple slices last night, but realizing he had no idea what pigs ate and sincerely doubting Rayah had it in her barren fridge even if he had known, he’d slipped on Hogrid’s tiny harness, which Zandar had put on under his spiny shirt, taken the pig for a potty break in the backyard, then loaded him into the clown-mobile and headed to town for piggy paraphernalia. Leaving Rayah warm and soft and half naked in her bed had been a trial, one he clearly would’ve been better off having failed.
“What now?” He stroked the pig’s back. His ankle barely twinged this morning, but a three-mile hike on a country road, toting a pig, had bad idea written all over it. Could he tie him into his sweatshirt like a piggy Bjorn?
He was still pondering the dilemma when dust flew up near the road and dirt crunched under tires. Jake whipped around as a big, black Jeep skidded to a halt behind Rayah’s car.
“Uncle Pierce is here. We’re saved.” Jake pumped Hogrid’s tiny piggy fists in the air. “Jazz hooves.”
The driver’s door of Rayah’s car was nearly ripped off its hinges seconds later as Pierce jerked it open and nailed Jake with a glare hot enough to singe the fuzz off Hogrid’s head.
“What the hell, man?” Jake grumbled as Hogrid squirmed, scared by the sudden commotion.
“That’s what I want to know! We’ve been looking all over for you. I had to go to every business in town before Waylon finally said he’d seen you at the feed store.”
“Yeeeeeah. We needed supplies for Hogrid.” He held the piglet up like proof.
Pierce’s eyes narrowed to slits, shifting from Jake’s face to Hogrid, then to the back seat full of feed store bags. A bit of the starch eased from his shoulders. “You weren’t bailing on her?”
“Bailing on who?”
“Rayah.”
The two old friends stared at one another for an interminable beat. Gently, Jake set Hogrid on the ground and rose to his feet. “You couldn’t have asked me that, because there’s no way you think that little of me, right?”
Finally, the last of the tension bled from Pierce’s stance. “I’m sorry, bro. It’s just, with the story blowing up online… Then you were gone without a word and not answering your phone. You have to admit it looks bad.”
“I left a note on the—” Jake’s pulse surged uncomfortably. “What story?”
“Ah, shit. You haven’t been online at all today, have you?” Without waiting for what seemed like a damned obvious answer, Pierce handed Jake his phone. As Jake flipped through the first page of Google responses for his name, Pierce gave him a rundown of what he’d missed this morning.
It was his nightmare in real time, his weakness out there for the entire world to judge, and all he could say, all he could think, was “She’s gone?” His vocal cords crackled like they’d been sandblasted.
“Vic called me a few minutes ago to see if I’d found you yet. She and Samuel just dropped Rayah off at the airport. She didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t wait. This could cost her everything.”
And it’d be his fault. “I have to follow her. She shouldn’t be alone.”
His friend winced. “Blaine tried to go with her. She said she has to do this on her own.”
“Fuck that.” Jake grabbed the supplies from the back seat of Rayah’s car before hauling Hogrid back into his arms. “Take me to her place. I need to grab a few things, find a flight. Can you take care of Hogrid for us?” His mind raced. She had to be hurting and scared.
“You can’t go after her.” Pierce put one hand on his shoulder and shook. “Think, man. Shawn’s been blowing up my phone all morning, trying to track you down. I know you want to be there for Rayah, but you have your own problems. The studio wants to talk to you, like yesterday.”
He’d busted his ass, working like a fool for years to pretend that, as long as his condition stayed a secret, it couldn’t touch his career. This scenario had seemed like the end of the world. Now, compared to what she was going through, it felt trivial.
Jake called his agent from Pierce’s phone on the drive back to the cabin. Shawn wasn’t angry. He was homicidal-level livid. In fairness, Jake had neglected to mention to Shawn that he’d worked things out with Rayah. Not that it was his business beyond the shitstorm it was causing as it butted up against the rumors about him and Vicky.
“Get. Back. Here,” Shawn barked into the phone. “You have a meeting first thing in the morning. And stay away from that woman. You know how conservative this production company is, and she’s a PR nightmare.”
Jake would’ve told him to get bent, but the call ended with the kind of bangingclickonly desk phones could achieve.
“What are you going to do?” Pierce asked, no doubt having heard every word.
Frustrated, Jake scrubbed both hands over his face and growled. What was he supposed to do? He wished he could talk to her, if only to hear her voice. As much as she would need him, he needed her, too.
Twenty-four hours, less maybe. If he played this right, he could go to L.A., take his meeting and the giant “no thank you,” then fly to Indianapolis and have her in his arms again in less than a day. Surely, they’d still be prepping her side of the case.
It would work. It had to.
Chapter Thirty-Two
