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Shit. He’s calling me by her first name. He must be the agent and the other guy the movie director. I so fucked things up for her.
“She didn’t punch him. He tripped and fell,” Bobbi answers.
The younger guy raises his brows. “On her fist?”
I shrug. “Bad timing.”
“I can’t be here. I have to go,” Leigh blurts out before walking out of the restaurant.
“Who was that?” the younger guy asks.
I don’t stay to answer him, rushing after Leigh. She’s clearly distressed, and I don’t want her to be alone. But she has much longer legs than me, and I have to run in heels to catch up with her.
By a miracle, our driver sees us and heads in our direction. We get into the car, and the moment the door closes, I pull her to me. She’s still shaking when she hides her face in the crook of my neck.
“It’s okay, babe. I’m here.” I rub her back.
“Should I wait for Bobbi?” the driver asks.
I glance out the window and don’t see Bobbi coming after us. He must have stayed behind to smooth things over. I tell the driver to take us back home. Then I close the partition window once more to give Leigh and me privacy.
She cries nonstop for a couple of minutes. I let her get it all out in silence, just offering my presence as comfort. After a while, she pulls back and wipes her wet cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
She looks out the window, trying to hide her face from me. “For not acting like you would have in that situation. I bailed like a scared little girl.”
I rub her arm. “Leigh, babe, do you think I care about upholding whatever image you think I should have? Who was that man?”
“He’s a nobody.”
“A nobody wouldn’t have put you in that state. He’s the one who hurt you, isn’t he?”
She whips her face to mine, her eyes round like saucers. “What do you know?”
“Nothing, but I’m not stupid. I can read a situation. And Bobbi—”
“Bobbi what?” she shrieks. “Did he say anything to you?”
“Nothing specific, but he made a comment that stayed with me. I’m sorry. I know that’s very personal stuff, and if you don’t want to tell me, I respect that. I just want to help you however I can.”
She starts to cry anew, and guilt digs a hole in my chest. Look what you did, Keanu.
“That man is Lawrence Stone.” She looks out the window again. “He’s a huge producer, very powerful in Hollywood. I met him at a party two years ago. He asked if I wanted to see a preview of a movie he had produced. Naively, I didn’t see the harm in following him into an empty home theater room.” She shudders, glancing at her lap.
“Leigh… it’s okay if you don’t want to continue.”
She turns to me. “No, I want you to know.”
“Okay.”
She can’t hold my stare, though, and I guess it’s easier for her if she doesn’t make eye contact. She lets out a heavy exhale. “I thought everything was fine until the movie started. It wasn’t the blockbuster he had produced. It was porn.”
My hands turn into fists. That sleazy son of a bitch.
“At first, I thought it was just a mistake or a bad joke,” she continues. “But then he was all over me, kissing me, grabbing my ass and breasts. He wanted me to perform the sex acts from the movie on him. I said no, but that didn’t stop him. In fact, I think he wanted me to deny him. He got even more aggressive, tearing at my clothes when I said no. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t scream, didn’t try to fight him off. I simply… froze. I guess in my mind, I accepted that the vile thing was going to happen. He was going to rape me, and there was nothing I could do.”
There’s a knot in my throat the size of Texas. My pulse is hammering in my ears, and the tears are rolling down freely, leaving streaks down my cheeks that match the ones on Leigh’s face.
