ADA

I'm snuggled under the covers, re-watching the video that hit TMZ last night of Liam leaving LAX airport.

"Does that mean you and Ada Datchery have made things official then? Are the two of you exclusive?" a man shouts from the background.

Liam looks straight into his camera and winks, "If she'll have me."

Elodie and I have spent hours dissecting this video. My initial reaction when I saw it was complete and incandescent giddiness over Liam wanting the two of us to be together. But that was immediately followed by the crushing doubt that he was only saying it for cameras, so he could lock down the part he auditioned for.

Elodie said I was being ridiculous and that it was obvious he meant what he said, but I'm not sure. When I'm with Liam, everything is amazing, and I'm so certain about his feelings for me. But the rest of the time, I'm mostly just hecka confused. Especially since our relationship seems to be majorly helping his career, but mine—not so much.

My grand plan of pretending to date Liam and get ahead at work has backfired in the biggest way. I haven't gotten any shots in the past few days because I'm constantly being mobbed by paparazzi. And since I can't bring myself to try and uncover Liam's secret, then I'm leaving the door wide open for Chrissy to do it herself.

I don't know what to do.

I'm about to push play on the video again when my cell rings. It's a call from a number I don't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ada?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"This is Cassidy from Club Fit."

I sit up so quickly, my vision sparkles, and I feel lightheaded. Cassidy is the girl from Liam's gym who agreed to be my tipper. If he's there now, I might be able to get over there and get some shots before the rest of the paps have the chance to pounce on me.

"Cassidy! Hi."

"Hey. Listen, I'm not at the gym, but I know where Liam Anders is."

"Where?" I'm breathless as I scramble out of bed and grab a pair of jeans off the floor, trying to shimmy into them one-handed.

"I'm in Jersey visiting my mom, and I saw him walk into this crappy, old diner across the street."

Jersey? Weird.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Can you send me your location?" I ask. "I'm on my way."

I shove my hair into a messy ponytail on top of my head and run out the door.

* * *

An hour later, I'm thanking my lucky Hollywood stars there aren't any other photogs hanging around as the Uber pulls up to the diner. It's one of those old-fashioned restaurants that's metallic and shaped like a train car. It has a distinctly faded look and certainly hasn't been well taken care of. Not the sort of place you'd expect to find an A-list celebrity.

Cassidy had to get back to work, but she dropped me a pin, so I'd be able to find it. Sure enough, Liam's shiny, black Range Rover is sitting in the almost-empty parking lot. I see Briggs inside, talking to Liam's driver. Fortunately for me, he seems distracted for once.

I scooch down in my seat. Briggs knows I'm a photog. I'm sure he'd understand me showing up to take pictures of Liam, but I don't want him to think I'm some stalker girlfriend, following him around. And I definitely don't want Liam to think that. It's probably best to stay out of sight until more paps show up.

I hunch down as I climb out, hiding behind one of the few cars parked in front of the restaurant. God, it's hot out here. Beads of sweat slip down my back. It has to be over ninety degrees.

The Uber driver gives me a look like he thinks I'm a total crazy person as he drives away. I can't really blame him.

Glancing up at the diner again, it suddenly strikes me as a little suspicious.

I was so desperate to actually get some shots when Cassidy called, I didn't stop to think what Liam could be doing in Jersey or if he'd want to be photographed here.

I remember the text I saw on Liam's phone at the party. These guys aren't playing around. You gotta bring more cash. I wonder if that has anything to do with Liam being all the way out here. My stomach plunges.

The Uber's already gone though, and I can't exactly schedule another one to pick me up without Briggs spotting me. Besides, Liam's probably just having lunch with a friend. No big deal. I'm sure if I look inside the diner, I'll see him in there eating with Faye and Ariani.

I inch toward the front of the car, pulling my Nikon from my bag and looking through the viewfinder as I peer over the hood.

The camera whirs as I zoom in. It takes a second for the picture to come into focus. Liam is sitting in a booth next to the window. Only his profile is visible from here, but his mouth is drawn in a hard line. The muscles around his jaw are rigid. I can't see the man's face across from him, but I can see his hands, gesticulating as he speaks.

Liam takes a drink from his coffee cup and grimaces. A waitress with gray hair and red lipstick appears at their table, and he hands her a credit card. As she walks away, Liam leans forward, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a white envelope. It's thick as though...as though it's stuffed with cash. Liam frowns and slides it across the table. The other guy snatches it up.

Okay. I should definitely not be here. I duck back down, crouching on the asphalt. The heat of it makes my shins burn.

There could be a million reasons for Liam to give that man money. It isn't necessarily something nefarious. There has to be a logical explanation.

The metal door of the restaurant squeaks open, and I peek around the side of the car.

Liam walks out of the diner, followed by a middle-aged man about the same height he is.

The man is familiar in a way I can't quite put my finger on. He looks the worse for wear with the lines scoring deep grooves on either side of his mouth and the stooped set of his shoulders. His nose is a little crooked like it's been broken. I feel like I've seen him before. Maybe he's an actor from one of the old movies I watched with Grams.

I lift my camera and take a quick shot, so I can try and figure it out later.

He reaches out and puts a hand on Liam's shoulder. Liam shakes him off, stepping out of his reach. The expression on his face is cold enough to give a person frostbite, even in this heat.

The man shrugs and turns away, climbing into a classic looking sports car. His tires squeal as he pulls out of the lot. Liam watches him go, shaking his head before getting into the Range Rover.

My heart pounds in my chest as they drive away, guilt pumping through me. Whatever I just witnessed was obviously private.

I want Liam to tell me what's going on with him. I want him to be able to confide in me, but I don't deserve that kind of trust when I'm sneaking around spying on him.

Sitting down on the curb, I reserve an Uber and pull out my Nikon, examining the picture I took. Liam's eyes are hard, mouth tight and unsmiling. The envelope is clearly visible in the man's hand.

I zoom in on his face. He has the look of someone who used to be handsome but has since lost the will to care. He's got a strong jawline and thick, ashy blond hair that's started to turn gray. His eyes are a very bright blue. They almost remind me of—

Oh my God. They remind me of Liam's.

I shove my camera back in my bag and grab my phone, opening Google. In the search bar, I type Liam Anders and Jack.

Liam's Wikipedia page is the top hit. I scroll down to the Early Life section, dreading what I know I'm going to find there.

Liam Anders was born in Hoboken, New Jersey, the son of Jack Anders, a car salesman. His mother's name is unknown.

Jack is Liam's dad. Faye's words from the other night come back to me. 'He's had some shitty people in his life in the past.' Then I think of Liam meeting my own dad and saying how I was lucky to have a father who cares about me. It all makes sense.

I might not know what Liam's dad's involved in, or why Liam's giving him cash, but I do know the picture I just took of the two of them would be the story of the freaking year in the press. That one photograph would be more than enough to have Liam's personal life splashed across the pages of every tabloid in the world.

Selling this shot would also secure me the position at Huntley or any other agency I wanted to work for. But there's no way I'd ever submit it. It kills me to think how disappointed Grams would be in me for walking away from the chance to land my dream job for a guy. But even if this was a photo of Faye, or Ariani, or Wesley, I still don't think I could hand it in.

When I decided to become a paparazzi, I was envisioning red carpet events and photographing celebrities as they did their shopping on Fifth Avenue. I didn't imagine hiding behind a beat up Pinto in the parking lot of a grimy diner, trying to reveal someone's darkest secrets.

Grams and I spent so many afternoons dreaming about me becoming a celebrity photographer, of getting to live a life among the stars. I'm not giving up on that dream. It would be like letting her go, and I'm not ready to do that. I need to figure out a way to make this work without losing the guy I care about...or myself.

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