The Betrayal - Book 2 of the Hollywood Princess Series by Dana Aynn Levin

Chapter Seven - Daniel

CHAPTER SEVEN - DANNY

Bonnie Raitt? Eli! I disengaged from the tangle of sheets. Somehow I managed to reach my jeans, dig the phone out of its pocket, and answer by the end of the second chorus. Elizabeth could not know where I was.

“Hey, baby,” I said.

The girl whose bed I had just vacated looked expectantly at me.

“Hey yourself, honey,” Eli responded cheerfully. “I wanted to chat before I went to bed.”

“E, I’m just saying good-night to the guys.” I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder while I struggled to pull on my jeans. “I’ll be home in half an hour. Hold on a second.”

The dirty blonde haired girl was somewhat attractive, but otherwise completely unremarkable. She had served a purpose, and that was that. I glanced back toward the bed, found my polo shirt, and pulled it over my head. The girl, glaring at me, had pulled the sheet up, covering her naked body.  A moment earlier she had not been so modest.

Stupid bitch! What did you expect when you picked a guy up at a bar?

“Sorry. I couldn’t find my valet ticket,” I said to Elizabeth. “Let me call you when I get home and we’ll Skype.”

“Okay. I love you, Danny. Drive safely,” she said in ignorant innocence.

“I will. I love you too, babe.”

I jammed the phone into my pocket and shoved my feet into my Topsiders lying at the side of the bed.

“You have a girlfriend.”The girl stated the obvious with scorn.

“She lives in New York,” I lied. What did she expect? Of course I had a girlfriend.

Buoyed by adrenalized anger, the girl rose onto her knees, the sheet slipping off, and with all her strength, smacked me with a pillow.

“Ouch!”I exclaimed, and I quickened my pace.

“Get out of here!” she shrieked. “You bastard!”

Grabbing my sweatshirt, I shot her a look of disdain, and fled before she found an instrument more lethal than a pillow.

 Fortunately, she lived on a busy street. Almost immediately I found a cab, and I was back at the Four Seasons within minutes.

“Great,” I groaned while I paid the driver. Dad! He was getting out of his car. Dad was the next to last person I wanted to run into. The last was waiting by her laptop, sitting in the bed we shared in Malibu.

“Danny!” Dad called. Ugh! There was no way to avoid the coming inquisition.

“Hey,” I said in a substantially more subdued tone.

As Dad and I entered the lobby, he grimaced as he examined his disheveled son.

“What have you been up to Danny? You’re a mess.”

“I was out with the guys,” I answered, giving no specifics. After a week of night shooting, we had welcomed a free evening to go out.

“You look like you just got out of bed,” he said as we waited for the elevator.

I ignored this truthful observation and made an effort to further smooth my hair. As the elevator doors closed behind us, I yawned.

“It’s late, Dad. I just want to shower and call Eli. She’s expecting to Skype.”

“Good idea. Shower. You can’t let Elizabeth see you looking like this.”

“Dad…” I hated when he decided to act like a parent.