lineup.
“I’ve seen you in the papers,” said the younger Korean woman . “Here. I’ll soak your hands and feet before we get started.”
Justine nodded. Yup, next time she’d have her MP3 player. Sue chattered about her favorite Justine Campbell movies, what it must be like to star opposite Brad Pitt, if he was a good kisser, imagining how must fun it would be to travel the world and go to premiers and sign autographs.
With the warm foot- and hand-soaks and the comfy chair, Justine felt her eyelids grow heavy. She leaned against the headrest and listened to the buzz of conversation.
Chin-Mae sat at Tamarind’s feet, working on her toenails. “You have to give it time, Tamarind. He’ll make up his mind.”
“I know. I’ve done everything except ask him out myself.” Tamarind let out an unmistakable sigh . “Call me old fashioned, but he’s not that approachable, either.”
“Give him time. If he doesn’t make up his mind, then it’s probably not meant to be.” Chin-Mae had a soothing, musical voice.
“. . . I didn’t want to show it to you unless you want to see it,” Sue was saying as she massaged Justine’s feet.
“Show what to me?” Justine snapped to attention and stared at the young woman.
Sue frowned. “The latest copy of Tattle-Tales Weekly. ”
“I don’t think I’ve seen it. . . .” She wasn’t sure that she wanted to, either. She’d avoided looking at the magazines in the grocery store the few times she’d gone.
“I don’t want to believe half the stories they publish, but they always make me wonder. But you ought to know more than anyone if it’s the truth.”
“What’s the truth?”
Ignoring the sharp glance from Chin-Mae, Sue wiped her hands on a towel and hurried off to a nearby desk behind the counter. She returned with a full-color tabloid.
“Look.”
A trio of photos dominated the cover.
Tyler, in New Zealand. Wearing the Versace shirt she’d bought him last Christmas, his hair hanging in his eyes, his mouth open in laughter.
A raven-haired beauty with eyes the color of blue ice grinned at him, holding a drink in one hand, her other arm draped around his neck.
Tyler Drake Frolics with Local Kiwi was all Justine read.
“Oh.” The word came out in a croak. “He. . . I. . . Well, we’re through, really. Hadn’t made an announcement or anything.” Justine took the tabloid from Sue and studied the article.
While his sometime lady-love, Justine Campbell, recuperates from injuries suffered in last New Year’s Eve car accident that nearly claimed her life, Tyler Drake is on the other side of the globe shooting a film.
That doesn’t prevent him from spending some quality time with rising silver screen siren Maeve Riley.
No wonder he hadn’t called. She should have guessed it was over.
The room grew silent as Justine folded the paper.
Chin-Mae’s words were soft. “Sue, you shouldn’t show this to her.” She moved to Justine’s side. “Miss Justine, he’s not worth it. If he doesn’t want to be with you while you are healing, he’s not the man for you.”
She shot a look back at Tamarind. “Same for you. A man wants to spend time with you, be more than a friend, you know. And you know if he doesn’t.” She clucked her tongue. “If you have to make him like you, he’s not the one. Song of Solomon says. . .”
“Oh, Chin-Mae, are you quoting the Song of Solomon?” asked Sue, who followed the question up with a chuckle. She took the paper from Justine, whose cheeks stung as if she’d been slapped.
“My shop. I quote what I want.” Chin-Mae turned back to Tamarind. “‘Do not awaken love before it pleases.’ You can’t force love.”
Justine nodded. Love. She wasn’t sure what that was anymore. She loved the idea of her and Tyler. He was funny, talented, smart, and didn’t feel threatened by her success.
She should have known it wasn’t real with Tyler. She didn’t know the real Justine Campbell herself , hadn’t known