Chapter 20
We were woken up the next morning by a phone call. It was Larry, his agent. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but David swore, and said no, he hadn’t seen them.
"Sure. Yes, why don’t you come around? That might be easiest."
He hung up and turned to me. “There was a photographer there last night.”
“A photographer?”
“Outside the restaurant,” he explained.
I hadn’t remembered a flash, and said so.
“It was from across the street, Larry reckons. He was probably targeting the club there, and just took a few pot-shots over the road. They’ve printed a picture of us leaving.”
“Oh.” I didn’t want to ask why it was such a problem, as it clearly seemed to be. Was it because he didn’t want to be seen with me? A cold thought struck me: was he supposed to be dating someon
