Besides, we’d still celebrated birthdays together and met once a week for a coffee break.

His movie roles became more demanding and suddenly he wanted to be taken more seriously. As his publicist I told him it wouldn’t be a good idea to alienate all of his avid female fans by taking a year off to do an indie flick none of them would even see. He saw Academy Award, I saw flop. I was right, and things had only unraveled since then.

“Aw, come on, Jo-Jo.” He reached for my hand, smile tight. “I was lonely.”

“Buy a dog.”

He laughed. “Guys like me don’t get dogs.”

The arrogance I could really do without. What happened to the guy who used to pull out a woman’s chair and open doors?

“No, guys like you are dogs. I’m saying get one to keep yourself from turning into one.”

“You’re funny.” He grinned and cracked his knuckles again. My right eye twitched. Oh, hell. “Hey, tell you what, why don’t we share a bottle of wine like we used to and forget this ever happened?” Was he really trying to use our past emotional connection to manipulate me? My throat ached with the swell of emotion as it continued to mount. I was ashamed that it had worked before. That a year ago I would have made it all better while he promised to be a better friend and client.

Clearly, I wasn’t the same person anymore. Was I that insecure? That attention from a good-looking man was enough to make me forgive a multitude of sins?

Casey reached for my hand again.

“No.” I jerked my phone back and tossed it into my purse. “This is the sixth time you’ve been out partying this month. A new stripper each time, and the paparazzi are having a field day. You wanna get taken seriously? Stop hitting on women half your age and buy a dog.”

“What’s with you and this dog thing?” He raised his voice. “I’m not getting a damn dog.”

“It’s like this,” I said slowly. “I’m trying to teach you how to be a responsible adult rather than a man so obsessed with his own penis he had a mold made of it to put in the middle of his apartment!”

Casey shrugged. “I’ve never gotten complaints about my art.”

“It’s not art.”

“It’s art.” He nodded. “Ask the ladies.”

“Look.” I held out my hands. “Parents buy their kids dogs to teach them how to take care of something other than themselves. Maybe it would be cruel to the dog. Maybe I’ll grab you a goldfish, because at least if it goes belly-up I won’t feel like a puppy killer.”

“Huh?” He snapped to attention. “You want me to kill a puppy?”

“Lower your voice,” I hissed.

He blinked, his eyes a little too wide.

I sighed. “Are you high?”

He paused and then chuckled. “Maybe.”

“Forget the goldfish—you couldn’t even take care of a Tamagotchi!”

“A what?”

“Never mind.” I waved him off and gripped my purse tightly with both hands. “I won’t keep doing this with you, Casey, I can’t. I’ve been with you five years. You were my first client, and I don’t want to quit, but you’ve left me no choice.”

“No!” Casey shot to his feet. “Jo-Jo, damn it, just sit! All right? Look, I’m sorry, I’m just . . . it’s been a bad month.” A bad month? Try a bad year!

“So stay sober, stop getting high, and make better choices. People will never respect you if you don’t respect yourself.”

He shrugged. “It’s just a little fun.”

“Is it fun when you’re no longer drunk or high?”

He stared at the tablecloth.

“Right.” I nodded. “Look, I’m going to go. I have a meeting with another client. Shape up. This is your last warning. If you can’t do it, I’m dropping you.”

“You don’t drop me!” he sneered. “I made you!”

And there it was. What was left of our friendship shattered in front of my eyes.

“What was that?” I said in a lethal tone. “You made me?”

Casey paled. “Jo-Jo, I didn’t mean that, I’m just—”

“Save it.”

“Wait!”

“’Bye, Casey.”

“You’re just pissed because I didn’t sleep with you!”

I froze while the restaurant fell silent. This from the man who used to tell me to wait for the right guy, the man who kissed my tears away when my college boyfriend dumped me like yesterday’s news. Casey and I never went past friendship. He’d tried kissing me once, but I told him I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Pain filled my chest as I tried to breathe evenly and think professionally.

“That’s it.” I licked my lips and tried to keep my shaking to a minimum. “We’re done.” Forget that I was going to lose a crap load of money. Sadly, I was also losing a friend. Then again—I took another look at him—he’d stopped being my friend a long time ago. I’d just chosen to ignore the fact that on the road to fame, he’d given up his soul and sold it to the devil.

I should have seen the warning signs, but I was making money too and I was proud of him.

So proud.

And now he was nothing but a high stranger, so obsessed with himself I half expected him to check his reflection in the damn spoon.

“I’ll send the terminated contract to your manager by fax.” I whispered under my breath, “’Bye, Casey.”