Mia Thompson: April 30, 2013
I ran into Liam Nordstrom and Jake Gorboni at Club Priela on Saturday. It always throws me off when Jonathan’s friends call him “Will.” With a last name of Williams, it shouldn't surprise me that they call him that, but when Liam asked me if Will and I were getting back together, it took me a second to figure out who he was talking about. After it clicked in my mind, I asked, “What have you heard?” I was hoping Jonathan had said something to him.
“Just what the tabloids are saying,” he answered.
“You’ll have to ask him. He’ll tell you if he wants you to know,” I said. “I don’t gossip, even about myself.” Which was a total lie. I’d be nowhere if I didn't self-promote.
“My guess is no, or you wouldn't be out clubbing tonight.”
He was right. I should have skipped the club—one more obstacle with the press. Match point. “Why do you ask, if you know all the answers?”
“I’m just looking out for Will. I would hate to see you hook-up with some guy at the club if he thinks you’re getting back together,” Liam said, like a true golden boy in wolves' clothes.
“Is that a proposition? Do you want to take me home tonight, Nordstrom?” I ran my polished nails up his cheek and through his hair, as I spoke. “I thought you preferred blondes.” I knew it wasn't a proposition, but I enjoyed toying with him. Men are so easy to torment. I wouldn't have gone home with him, anyway, and Liam knew it. Sure, he has his own following with his cable show, but it wouldn't do me any favors to be seen with him. Besides such an act would ruin my chances of getting back with Jonathan.
He stepped back, obviously affected by my touch. “I’m going paddle boarding with Will tomorrow. I’ll let him know you’re asking about him."
“Don’t bother. I’ll call him. So you’re still out in Malibu?” I changed the subject to prevent my intentions from spilling too soon.
I hung with Nordstrom and Gorboni a few more minutes, making small talk until Kiera returned from dancing with the piece of meat that she had selected from the nobody section. She doesn't seem to care about a man’s status in Hollywood. If he has a six-pack, a hot ass, and can hold a decent conversation, she’ll invite him in. It doesn't even matter if he has money. Of course, she’s always had plenty of her own, or I should say her parents’ money. She’s never had to fight to get ahead like I have. Sure, I have plenty of money, now, but being a self-made actress, I know what it’s like to struggle and I’m not about to lose all I've worked for over some hot bodied no-name. I don’t have her luxury. I have to care about who I’m seen with or the press will crucify me.
Her slum boy left the VIP area shortly after they returned from the dance floor. So the rest of the night, Kiera and I danced with Chet Blake, and a couple other trust-fund guys—no one famous, though.
I was tempted to show up at Nordstrom’s the next day and join Jonathan on his paddleboard, but I didn't. I know how to play him and he needs space. If I try too hard, it will only make him skittish.
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