Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(16)

Emma, who started working for Sebastian years ago, never puts up with any of his shit.

“Admit it,” I say. “She has a point about the last junket. You got hammered and made out with that reporter. In the middle of the interview. On camera.”

“I was bored, like I am now. Bad things happen when I get bored.” He sits up, his leg bouncing up and down.

I check my phone for the hundredth time today. Still nothing. It’s been four days now since I’ve heard from Typewriter Girl. Olivia. Four days since she sent me her photo and I shot her down.

All my messages since have gone unread. She must hate me. But what if something happened to her? She could be hurt, and I’d never know, all because of the damn rules.

I try to be discreet in checking my phone.

“What’s wrong? Your mystery girl ghosting you?”

For a selfish idiot, Sebastian is surprisingly astute.

“Why do you say that?”

“You keep checking your phone, but you’re not texting and staring at the screen with that stupid-ass smile you get. You’ve been a miserable prick instead. It’s not hard to guess.”

That’s the thing about The Wanderers. There is zero privacy on or off the set.

Fuck it. Maybe Sebastian can give me advice. I’m that desperate.

“You’re right. She ghosted me.” I run my hand through my hair, messing up the casual style that took my stylist an hour to create. My “groomer,” the girl whose job it is to make sure I’m camera-ready at all times, won’t be happy.

“Did you fight?”

“Not a fight,” I hedge.

Sebastian leans back, drumming a hand against his knee. “If I’m going to help you, I need to know more details.”

I grit my teeth. “There’s not much to tell. She’s an online friend. She lives in San Francisco.”

“Dude. She could be some stalker fan.”

“She doesn’t know who I am, so she’s not a stalker.”

“She doesn’t know you’re famous?”

“No,” I clip out.

Sebastian cracks up. “Whoa, so this chick thinks you’re just some random. That’s sick.”

“It’s not funny, asshole. I’m worried. I haven’t heard from her in days, and we usually text constantly.”

I can’t even articulate all the things I’m worried about. And I miss her more than I thought possible.

“You’re in deep. So, find her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be found?” I need to be sure she’s okay. I swallow past the lump in my throat.

“Do you know anything about her? Besides San Francisco?”

“I know the name of the bookshop where she works.”

“Ooh, I dig the hot librarian thing. So, what the fuck are you waiting for, an invitation? You’re Chase fucking James. Go get her.”

The door opens, and Emma is in the doorway. “Boys, two minutes. Ronan is on his way back up to join you for this interview.” Emma glares at me. “Chase, your hair is all crazy again.” Her tone is half accusation, half resignation.

“Leave it,” Sebastian says. “Chicks dig the sex hair. So, Emma, you’re a girl…”

“Woman, but glad you noticed,” she drawls as she saunters into the room, her attention on the papers in her hand.

“As a female, don’t you agree Chase needs to get off his ass and find his woman?”

Emma looks up, interest in her eyes now. “The sexting girl?”

“We don’t sext,” I snarl. “What happened to privacy?”

“Privacy is a myth for people like you,” Emma retorts.

“Sexting Girl disappeared. Don’t you think he should grow some balls, go to San Francisco, where she lives, and find out why?”

“We. Don’t. Sext. We text. That’s it. And I won’t be some stalker who chases after her just because she doesn’t answer a few messages.”

“Pussy. A few texts, my ass. You’ve been blowing up her phone all week. Emma, tell him he needs to man up.”

Emma purses her lips and tilts her head, her sharp eyes darting from Sebastian to me and back again.

“I think a guy who is smart enough to recognize a good thing and go after it is rare,” she says slowly with a quick glance at Sebastian. She shrugs. “So, stop pitching a fit and go after her.”

I run my fingers through my hair again in frustration, garnering another glare from Emma.

“Find her,” Sebastian says. “Go now. I’ll cover your last interviews.”

“Hold on. I didn’t say to go now. You’re not leaving early.” Emma’s scowl is now at DEFCON 5. “But if you’re real nice, Chase, I’ll help you. Jake Edgerton has been looking for leads in his latest movie. And your name is topping the list.”

I frown. “I hadn’t heard that.” Edgerton is one of the best directors in the business. “How do you know?”

Emma smiles smugly. “I’ve done a few favors for the casting agent.”

“And?”

“I also happen to know that Edgerton lives in San Francisco and is there now. I’d be willing to bet that he’d be happy to see you. A meeting would give you a non-stalker-y reason to visit San Francisco for a few days and check on your girl.”