Bad Reputation Read online

  “Oh…” Kensie tried to look disappointed about the prospect of having their chat cut short. It seemed to work too well because Poppy trailed her pinky along her bronzed cheek like an imaginary tear.

  “I know, darling! I miss you so much,” she whined. “I guess there’s nothing else we can do but combine our tables right? Excuse me – waiter!”

  Before Peyton or Kensie could protest, Poppy ran off to have a waiter bring her drinks and entrees to the booth, pushing some adjacent tables together to extend the space. Scooting her narrow behind into the booth, Poppy sidled right up to Kensie.

  “Now this is where I was supposed to be sitting tonight!” she giggled, clinking her flute of champagne against Kensie’s martini glass, which still sat on the table. “I can practically feel everyone’s jealousy! Just wait till the rest of the girls come. I texted them to join – you’re cool with that, right, Kenz?”

  “No,” Peyton said just as Kensie nervously breathed, “Sure!” though the look in her eyes said something different.

  And suddenly, girl’s night became a party of eight, which grew even bigger as the night went on. Nursing her first cocktail, Peyton shrank back in the corner of the booth, watching Kensie slowly transform for survival purposes into Sloppy K, the notorious party girl who emerged after five or so drinks. Her girlfriends had given her the nickname because whenever hammered, Kensie was prone to such stunts as cannonballing in Prada or improvising awesomely bad rap lyrics that Poppy would record and post on Facebook the next day. Generally, Kensie regretted everything Sloppy K did the night before, but tonight, Peyton had a feeling she needed her drunk alter ego. It was the only way to survive Poppy and the fact that she’d invited not just their girlfriends but all their girlfriends’ boyfriends. It was officially a couples’ night – and the kind that forced Kensie to start texting Peyton while sitting right next to her.

  KENSIE: Hi! I’m going crazy. Can we execute an escape plan? If I don’t leave in 2 minutes I’m going to pull all my hair out and put it in Poppy’s drink :D

  Peyton snorted. “Definitely,” she murmured under her breath. Kensie exhaled with relief as she composed another text.

  KENSIE: Thank you. Also I changed my mind after seeing everyone’s BFs here. I think I do need to dance with some hot guys tonight. I’m sorry!!!

  KENSIE: You don’t have to come but it would be awesome if you could especially since you’re all dressed up anyway

  Peyton rolled her eyes at Kensie’s “pretty please” face. It was a well-mastered look. “Fine,” she smirked. “I’ll go.”

  “Yay!” Kensie squealed as quietly as possible. And within seconds, she and Peyton had plotted their exit strategy. Claiming to have friends outside, Kensie would go out and try to “get them to come join.” After taking too long, Peyton would go after her, taking the purse and phone that she’d left behind. Once they were both out, they’d leave and never look back.

  “Uh-oh. I think I know what you’re really doing,” Poppy lilted the second Kensie stood up. She grinned devilishly when Kenzie froze in her place. “You’re going to secretly hurl right now, aren’t you? Don’t even lie, ‘cause we had a Sloppy K pool going, and I predicted that you’d be going pukie-puke at 1AM – which means I totally win!” She squealed and held her hand up for a high-five, which went unreturned till she leaned all the way down the table.

  Since Kensie blinked with no response, Peyton broke the silence. “Definitely ignore anyone who says ‘pukie-puke’ and isn’t a toddler,” she said. And as several laughs ripples across the table, Peyton flashed Kensie an urgent look and mouthed “go” since she had little desire to stay at the table for much longer herself – especially not with Poppy wearing The Look. The Look was one that clouded her face whenever someone laughed at her instead of with her. For Poppy, being the butt of a joke was a fate worse than death, so she always required the last word. Peyton anticipated it as Poppy whisper-yelled at her boyfriend before gathering herself, patting her hair and taking a long swill of her champagne cocktail.

  “Surprise, surprise, Peyton Green is being a buzzkill,” she announced with an exaggerated sigh. “I mean honestly, why are you even here?”

  Peyton feigned innocence. “I don’t know. I was just having dinner with my cousin and then you invited yourself into our booth.”

  With her friends tittering, Poppy put on her best incredulous look. “I invited myself to your table? That’s cute, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Really. But before Peyton could respond, Poppy’s boyfriend blinked and pointed toward the dining room. “I think Peyton is saying how we were sitting there at first. And then you make the waiter move the table,” Alexei explained with true innocence.

  Bless you, Alexei.

  As Kensie’s friends burst out laughing, Peyton took the time to scoot herself out of the booth unnoticed. She wore a big, Cheshire cat grin as she neared the exit, ready to tell Kensie all about Poppy’s lie and her instant karma. But the second she burst out the door, her smile slid straight off her face. Because standing on the sidewalk next to Kensie was Connor Schaffer.

  With Mila Milani.

  “Look at the happy couple I ran into!” Kensie breathed. She turned to Peyton with a look of distinct panic beneath her smile. Peyton clenched her jaw.

  You have got to be kidding me, jackass, she cursed, her eyes locked upon Connor, who turned every female head on the sidewalk in a crisp white button-up, dark jeans and that crooked, asshole smile of his. God, Peyton found it so thoroughly annoying. What the hell is even wrong with this guy? Was it not enough for him to sleep with Kensie’s best friend? Did he really have to come along and parade his new relationship around – at their dinner no less?

  “Kensie said you guys are going to The Green Room, so Connor and I are gonna come with,” Mila said excitedly. “I haven’t been there in forever and I’d so rather be there right now than at dinner with Poppy,” she snorted. “I guess I’ll just run inside and make a quick appearance before I leave with you guys. Come with me, Kenz?”

  “Oh – okay!”

  Peyton eyed Kensie. Her inability to say “no” was starting to become a serious handicap.

  “I’ll just be a second, Peyton,” Kensie said with forced pep before letting Mila pull her inside.

  And suddenly, Peyton was alone with Connor on the sidewalk.

  Goddamn. Connor exhaled as he cursed to himself. He had imagined what Peyton might look like in a little black dress but the reality was even better than the image his mind had conjured, and that was very much a rarity.

  “Don’t do that,” Peyton snapped, stirring Connor from his leg-induced stupor. He tore his gaze off of her ridiculously toned thighs and looked at her. Everything about her was so damned sexy when she was mad. Her lips were swollen and red, and her chest heaved under her dress. Her almond eyes narrowed to the point of looking razor sharp at the ends, and she looked ready to actually kill Connor. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop looking.

  “I’m sorry, what are we fighting about now?” he asked.

  “We aren’t fighting about anything. I’m just in awe of the fact that you would go back on your promise about Kensie so quickly. But then again, I probably never should’ve trusted you with anything involving honor or you know, morality.”

  Connor smarted. “Christ. Hello to you, too.”

  “So what, you’re dating Mila Milani now?”

  “Not exactly, and I didn’t know you or Kensie would be here when I came. Contrary to whatever you think, I am trying to hold up my promise not to hurt her or upset her or whatever.”

  “In case you’re unaware, sleeping with her best friend is a bad start.”

  “Well, my top choice bailed early the other night, so all I had left was Mila,” Connor smirked, watching Peyton narrow her eyes as she figured out what he was saying. He laughed when her cheeks went pink. “Also, you should know I didn’t sleep with Mila. I don’t mean to shock you, but sometimes tabloids make up sto
ries.”

  Peyton crossed her arms. “For some reason, it’s not so hard to believe the ones they write about you.”

  “Of course not. I’m sure that’s a natural reaction when, to remind you again, you know nothing about me.”

  “Except the dozens of identical stories that people have echoed about you to the media, which yes, is full of shit, but when twenty different women claim the same, shitty thing about you, you kind of have to start giving it some credit.”

  Connor cocked an eyebrow. “And what’s that unanimously shitty claim they make about me?”

  Aside from the skills in bed and your big, famous dick? “That you’ll sacrifice anyone’s feelings and screw anyone over,” Peyton answered stiffly. “As long as it benefits you, your career or most importantly, your sexual pleasure.”

  Connor laughed. “Welcome to Hollywood.”

  “God.” Peyton wrinkled her nose. “What, is being repulsive like a sport to you?”

  “As much as self-torture is to you.”

  She bristled. “Come again?”

  “I’m still playing our little game of assumptions here, but something tells me that being at Lilac with the socialite brigade isn’t exactly your scene. And as hot as you look in black leather, I’m gonna guess this wasn’t your pick tonight either,” he smirked, his eyes falling to Peyton’s lips as they parted to fire back.

  But before she could say a word, Mila and Kensie emerged loudly from Lilac.

  “Connor, Peyton – we’re gonna be drinking heavily tonight!” Mila announced with a strained, tight-lipped smile on her face. Before Peyton could ask for an explanation, she watched Poppy and the rest of the dinner party file out of Lilac, whooping and ready for a night of guaranteed debauchery at The Green Room.

  Great. Can’t wait.

  And just like that, Peyton and Kensie’s girls’ night in turned into everything they had never hoped for.

  9

  Shit. This was not good. Peyton held her breath, staring at her phone and rereading the surprise text she had just received from Russell.

  Peyton, I booked Kyle Laurie for a screen test tomorrow morning at 8AM. I can’t get a hold of Kensie so just make sure for me that she will be up by 7AM tomorrow and at the Birchwood offices by 8AM. Make sure she’s wearing a real outfit. No shorts, no ripped jeans. Make sure she’s not hungover. If she’s serious about this movie and my help, she will be there early, lines memorized, and 100% ready. Appreciate the help. Goodnight.

  Peyton pinched the bridge of her nose as the car turned onto Tenth Avenue. Fuck.

  “I haven’t been here in forever!” Kensie whooped over the music blaring in the car. Since self-medicating with her flask of vodka, she’d grown more accepting of the idea of partying with Poppy. “We need to order bottles, ladies, ‘cause I am thirsty!”

  “Mm-hm. In more ways than one,” Poppy snorted while rubbing her date’s knee. “Someone’s ready to make out with a bunch of creepers tonight,” she said in singsong.

  Kensie wrinkled her nose. “Not creepers. Just one quality, handsome man who’s going to come home with me tonight.”

  “Kenz,” Peyton started. “I don’t think we can stay out too late tonight. I just got a text from your dad and – ”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up, Peyton,” Poppy groaned with exasperation. “Not everyone can be Miss Prude and Proper like you, ‘kay? Besides, who’s gonna be our entertainment tonight if Kensie doesn’t get wasted and blow some low-rent deejay in the corner? Extra points if she starts crying at the club about how totally worthless she is.”

  Peyton’s jaw tightened as she watched Kensie’s giddy smile fall off her face. As the car lurched to a stop, she turned to Poppy. “You’re an asshole, you know that right?” she asked, matter-of-fact.

  Poppy’s jaw dropped. “What’d you just say to me?”

  “I said grow the fuck up,” Peyton enunciated before helping Kensie out of the car.

  Inside the club, Peyton quickly found most of the group at a large table slightly veiled by gauzy white curtains. Before doing anything else, she poured two glasses of water – one for Kensie, one for herself. It took her all of a few seconds to do so but once she turned around, Kensie was gone.

  “What – where did she…?” Peyton blinked, prompting an immediate groan from Poppy.

  “Are you really starting already? Just sit down and have a drink, you freakshow.”

  Ignoring Poppy, Peyton scanned the club for Kensie. She squinted past the purple lights of the crowded dance floor, her eyes flitting across the onyx bar, looking for the shiny, red hair that made Kensie such an easy find in a crowd. Normally, Peyton could spot her within ten seconds of looking but tonight, her eyes were failing her. Maybe you’re drunk off one martini, because you’re you, Peyton considered, cursing her nonexistent tolerance. Hoping to wash away the last of her tipsiness, she grabbed her glass of water and knocked back a massive gulp. But even before the liquid sloshed against the back of her throat, she felt a burning so intense that she immediately choked.

  “What the – ” Peyton coughed, her eyes watering from the sting of the tequila. Her vision blurry, it took her several seconds to process the sight of Poppy laughing uncontrollably.

  “Oh come on, I had to!” she squealed to the friends of hers who muttered their disapproval. “It was part of an experiment. Maybe now you’ll be less of a wet rag, right, Peyton?”

  Peyton wanted to snap something back but her lips stumbled over themselves. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to will away the dizziness that she felt creeping into her head. God, her tolerance for booze was about as high as a pre-schooler’s.

  “Oh come on, it’s tequila, not rat poison! It’s not like she’s going to die,” Poppy defended herself to her date. As they began to argue, Peyton did her best to suck it up, chugging a glass of actual water before opting to find Kensie rather than kick Poppy’s ass, despite so desperately wanting to.

  Swaying as she walked, she made her way upstairs to The Green Room’s famous rooftop hammocks, where Kensie usually hung out. She prayed that the second she got up there, she’d hear Kensie call her name excitedly before introducing her to the decently hot friend of whichever gorgeous guy she’d decided to make out with for the night. That was usually how nights went at The Green Room. Hopefully, tonight would be nothing but the same.

  Come on. Three…two…one…

  “Peyton?”

  Shit. Peyton froze. That low, gravelly rasp was not the voice she was expecting. Fuck. Fucking run, she told herself. But before her body could react, she felt a hand grab her wrist.

  “Peyton! Wait.”

  She swallowed hard, staring down at the hand that wrapped around her – at its ringed fingers and at Kensie’s name, still inked in black cursive on the inner wrist. Her jaw tight, Peyton tore her eyes from the large hand to look up at its owner.

  Blake.

  Her stomach turned the second her gaze met his. He looked different since three months ago – his dark hair was now close-shaven, no longer the usual, messy faux-hawk. His muscles were less bulky, more lean now and there was a new tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his black V-neck. Gone was the cigarette that usually dangled from his lips. But one thing remained the same – he still looked at Peyton as if he were a single man. Then again, he was now. He certainly wasn’t engaged to Kensie anymore. Not after what he’d done to make her disappear. Glaring, Peyton snatched her hand back from him with a curt observation.

  “You’re back.”

  “I am,” Blake said softly, bringing his prayer hands to his lips. As if that weren’t annoying enough, he did that furrowed eyebrow thing that he thought made him look so very concerned or sensitive or whatever.

  “Why are you here?” Peyton asked, irritated. After the whole thing happened and Kensie had disappeared, Blake had, like an attention whore, gone off and done the same. He vanished and had his publicist release a statement that for personal reasons, he’d be taking a break from his b
and, despite the fact that it had been years since anyone had even cared about his band. A week later, he posted a picture to Instagram of his tattooed feet standing in some monastery in Thailand, with the caption, “Off the grid till I find Blake again. Love always.”

  God.

  “I had to come home eventually, so here I am,” Blake said, his eyes drifting to watch Peyton’s hair as the wind whipped it around her face. He reached out to touch it, perhaps tuck it behind her ear, but she stiffly dodged before he could make any contact.

  “Don’t.”

  “Sorry.” Blake shook his head, resetting. “Um, anyway. I’ve been back since Tuesday and I’ve been trying to contact Kensie but she hasn’t been answering my calls. If she’s here with you right now, I’d really love to talk to her since both our heads are in a peaceful space right now.”

  God, you pretentious douche. “Sorry, but she’s not here,” Peyton lied.

  “Really. So you put on this skintight dress and came to The Green Room on your own accord,” Blake said dubiously. He eyed Peyton from head to toe, his gaze lingering for too long on her chest.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He smiled with amusement. “Then who are you here with, if not Kensie? That chubby blonde girl you hang out with? ‘Cause this is definitely her scene,” he said sarcastically.

  “I’m here with my boyfriend,” Peyton blurted, unsure of what else to say. Blake laughed, his long fingers stroking his own chest.

  “As gorgeous as you are, I know you better than that, Peyton. No, I know Russell better than that. You don’t have a man or the time for one and if you did, there’s no way in hell he’d leave you to walk around this place alone. Not dressed like that.”

  Peyton wrinkled her nose. God, everything about Blake was nauseating. Don’t you even dare, she thought, gritting her teeth as something familiar glimmered in his eyes. He was flipping the switch. She knew that look. It was the one that flickered in his gaze the second Kensie left the room, leaving him alone with just her. For a long while, Peyton convinced herself that she was imagining the leering, almost predatory stare. But of course, she wasn’t and she should’ve known.