Awkward in Print (Awkward #1)

by Rachel Rhodes

  “I don’t want your money. At least not directly,” he taunts.

  I stifle the urge to scream. “Then what do you want?”

  He smiles again, and it turns my blood to ice. “The same thing every Julliard graduate wants. Fame and fortune.”

  I gape at him. Marla arrives with the fries, and he coats them in ketchup while I watch in stunned silence.

  “Here’s the thing, Josie. I have a feeling that this secret could seriously impact your reputation. Your fiancé doesn’t know either, does he?” He stares at me in silence and I feel the blood drain from my face. “I’ll take that as a yes. So… reputation, career, fiancé. All the things you stand to lose if I go to the press.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I would never have expected this of him. He might’ve been an asshole once, but he wasn’t a bad person. In fact, he was probably the nicest guy I ever knew, until he wasn’t.

  “I’m actually doing you a solid. You have the opportunity to salvage two of those things.”

  Two of those things. My reputation and my career. The only two that go hand in hand.

  “No.” I get to my feet. “I’m not doing this.”

  “Sit down, Jojo.” His voice is clipped, all trace of charm vanished. I don’t miss the fact that he’s spoken my instantly recognizable name out loud. It’s another threat, clear as day. I sit.

  “You want me to break it off with Alex. Why?”

  He grins. “Why do you think?”

  I shake my head in horrified disbelief. “Fuck you, Ace.”

  “Well, I didn’t expect you to take it that far, but I’d hardly say no.”

  “You want me to dump my fiancé and become what – your girlfriend?”

  “Not forever. Just as long as it takes for me to establish myself.” He pops a few fries in his mouth. I feel sick.

  “You couldn’t cut it as an actor on your own, and you expect to make it by riding my coattails? Are you delusional? This business doesn’t work that way.”

  “This business works exactly that way, and you know it.”

  “I can’t make you a star, Ace. Hell, I didn’t even make myself one, I just got a lucky break.”

  “You have a lot more power in this business than you give yourself credit for.”

  I give him a scathing look while I try to think of a way out of this mess.

  “Fine,” I concede with a sigh. “I’ll help you. I’ll take you to events, put you in touch with the right people… all of it. But I don’t need to break up with Alex and fake-date you to do that.”

  “No deal. The dating part is mandatory.”

  “Why?”

  “Remember Jack Danvers?”

  Everyone remembers Jack Danvers. Second husband of mega-star Sarah Carter, Jack was a nobody. Until his raging affair with Sarah came to light.

  “Jack isn’t famous, he’s infamous,” I point out. “He may be a household name, but everybody hates him.”

  “Only because he broke up a marriage. Last I checked you and Mr. Forbes List hadn’t tied the knot yet.”

  Inwardly, I curse having had to delay the wedding because of studio commitments. Outwardly, I give Ace the filthiest look I can manage.

  “He’ll never buy it,” I say. “Alex won’t just accept me leaving him.”

  “Then I suggest you make your performance believable.”

  I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “How did you become this person? You were a good guy, Ace.”

  “Not good enough for you, apparently.” There’s a bitterness to his voice that jolts me.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this. We were friends, once. We can be again. I can help you, I’ll do everything in my power to help you, but not like this. It’s extortion.”

  Ace yawns.

  “I love him, Ace.”

  “You’ll get over it.”

  He is so cold, so cruel, that I snatch up my purse.

  “Go to hell. Do your worst, I’ll just deny it. Who do you think Hollywood will believe – America’s sweetheart, or the bastard trying to get his fifteen minutes of fame?”

  Ace picks up his phone. “I thought you might say that. Fortunately for me, I have evidence.”

  “You’re lying.”

  His lip curls. “Check your email. I’ll expect to read about your break up by the end of the week. And Jojo,” he adds as I turn to leave. “I’m not a patient man. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  8

  Oh my God. The photographs. We took photos. The memory comes flooding back and my face burns as I scroll through the images Ace has sent to my email. I’m lying naked in his bed, mascara smudged beneath my eyes. My hair is a dark mass against the cream sheets, and the empty Vodka bottle is visible on the bedside table. Ace is smiling down at me. The other images are taken at various times during the course of that night. We’re half dressed, playing strip poker. We’re doing Tequila shots, grimacing as we tear into slices of lemon. I’m dancing on a table, the result of a lost dare. In every picture, I’m gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. The wanton look on my face is all the evidence he needs. I shove my phone back into my purse and lean back against the worn seat of the cab. One night. One stupid night and a handful of drunken selfies is going to destroy my entire life.

  I’d been lovesick for John Logan from the first time I laid eyes on him. Even before he got given the nickname Ace. We shared a lot of the same classes, but he’d never noticed me in that way. He was always friendly – that was just how he was – but it wasn’t until we’d landed the lead roles in a major production Julliard was putting on at a local theatre that I’d made any headway. We’d had to spend a lot of time together. I’d cherished every single moment. The night we wrapped, our entire senior class had turned up for the party, and I’d had far too much to drink.

  “Miss?” The cab driver’s voice yanks me back to the present. We’re outside my building.

  “Thanks.” I hand him a crumpled bill. “Keep the change.”

  I go straight to my bathroom and splash cold water on my face. The eyes staring back at me in the mirror are hollow. My hair is lighter now, honeyed highlights softening the dark, and a smattering of faint freckles dusts my nose and cheeks. I find myself wondering if Ace still finds me attractive, and then berate myself for giving a damn.

  He’d been so sweet that night. He’d taken care of me, made sure that I was looked after. He’d seen me safely home. Then he’d seen me naked. My roommate, Casey, had hooked up with John Kingman, and she wasn’t coming home.

  I still don’t remember who made the first move. One minute we were saying goodbye, the next, his lips were on mine, and we were kissing as though we no longer needed air to survive. If he’d taken me to my bedroom, then and there, I would’ve let him. Instead, he’d led me to the couch, his wicked smile full of promise. We’d played strip poker. Slowly. Ace had refused to let me drink anymore. He’d taken my shots for me, until his beautiful blue eyes were crossing.

  “Why?” I’d asked as I’d peeled off my top after a spectacularly bad hand.

  “You’ve had enough,” he’d said firmly. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

  By the time I was down to my underwear, I was squirming with desire. Ace was wearing only his boxers and one black sock.

  “You lose,” he murmured, showing his hand.

  I reached behind me to unhook my bra, but his hand closed around my wrist. His eyes bore into mine. “Let me,” he whispered. It was my undoing. He was pretty drunk, and his fingers fumbled a few times, but under his expert hands, I’d unraveled.

  “Jojo?”

  At the sound of Fenn’s voice, I whirl toward the bathroom door. I can picture her standing on the other side, checking her watch.

  “Yes?” I croak.

  “We need to leave now if we’re going to make it on time.”

  The distraction I’ve been waiting for is a hollow victory. Filming starts this afternoon, and this is a role I’ve been looking forward to for months.
The movie is a dark thriller, and I play a woman who falls in love with her best friend’s husband. It’s my most dramatic role to date.

  I spend two hours in hair and makeup and then check my phone to find a text from Alex, wishing me good luck and promising that he’ll see me tomorrow morning before work. The filming schedule begins with two weeks of night work, so our schedules will be conflicting until then. I can’t bring myself to reply to his text.

  “Your eyes are watering Miss Hudson,” my make-up artist warns. I blink rapidly a few times and close my eyes.

  We work for eight hours straight, breaking only for drinks of warm water laced with honey to preserve our voices, and one light meal. The director, Harrison Garfield, is in the twilight of his career and has been around long enough that he still remembers a time when actors and actresses weren’t prone to being spoilt. He’s both brilliant and brutal.

  “Cut!” he yells for what feels like the hundredth time. “Jojo, you are meeting the love of your life for a night of pure passion. Could you try to look pleased about it, sweetheart?”

  My handsome co-star chuckles.

  “You look a little too pleased for a man beginning to suspect his lover might be a psychopath, Blake,” Harrison snaps. Blake gives me a discreet wink. We’ve worked together before. Blake is happily married with two kids, and Alex and I have had numerous lunches with him and his wife. I smile back, but both of us are far more somber as we get back to work.

  Fenn is wilting on the drive home. She doesn’t need to attend the set every day, but she always comes with me on the first day of filming, to check that every clause in my contract is being upheld.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she yawns when Phillip pulls up outside her house. Seb waves at us through the window and I wave back. I’ve always liked Fenn’s boyfriend. He is unapologetically honest, and he adores Fenn.

  It’s well past midnight when I finally collapse into bed. I check my phone to find another message from Alex. Goodnight, beautiful. I pull my pillow over my head and sob until my chest aches.

  When Alex arrives the following morning, I’ve composed myself. I’ve deliberately dressed down and left my hair loose, but I did apply a liberal amount of foundation to cover the angry red blotches on my face. That’s what a night spent crying gets me.

  I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in hand when he walks in. I don’t lift my chin when he leans down to kiss me hello.

  Ever perceptive, Alex picks up on it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  I take a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

  He opens the refrigerator and pours himself some orange juice. “That sounds serious,” he smiles.

  “It is.”

  His smile falters, and I set down my cup.

  “I need a break.”

  “What?”

  “I know that sounds cheesy, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I just don’t think I can handle us right now, not with everything else going on.”

  He’s frozen in place, the still-open fridge sending a cool blast of air toward me. “Is this a joke?”

  “No.”

  In an instant, he’s at my side. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. Very serious.”

  “Are you seeing someone else?”

  Well, that escalated quickly. “No, of course not.”

  “Then what? You’re not in love with me anymore?” I’ve never heard him sound so scathing.

  “It’s not that.” I can’t bring myself to say it. He knows me too well, he will see right through me.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I just… I need some time apart.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit! I’m leaving for South America in two days, you’ll have ten days on your own. We barely see enough of each other as it is.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, I wish I could explain. I’m trying―”

  He cuts across me, a whiplash. “Try harder.”

  “Alex, please. I just need some time to sort my head out.”

  “You’re asking me for a break? What are we, seventeen?” He snatches up my hand and shoves it into my face until the five-carat diamond is all I can see.

  “Ouch! Alex, you’re hurting me.”

  “Good. Then you know how I feel. This is not a joke, Jojo. I proposed, you accepted. You don’t get to just walk away from that.”

  I jerk my hand free and get to my feet. “I decide what I get to do,” I snap. My hand tingles as the blood rushes back to my fingers. I rub at the red mark he left there. Alex catches sight of it, and all the fight goes out of him.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry.” He takes a step toward me, but I hold up both my hands, warding him off. I’m not afraid of him. I’m afraid of losing my resolve if he touches me, but Alex can’t see that.

  “I didn’t mean to,” he whispers.

  “I know.”

  “You’re making a mistake. You know you’re making a mistake.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and slide the ring from my finger. My hand feels naked without it. “Here.”

  “No.” He shakes his head in denial. “Please don’t do this. I’m leaving soon anyway. Take two weeks, get your head right. I won’t contact you, and we can talk again when I’m back.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” I’m dangerously close to losing it. I set the ring in his hand. “I’m sorry, Alex, but for now this is it. It’s over.”

  9

  On Saturday morning, without work to occupy my mind, I wander around the house in a depressed daze. I haven’t heard from Alex. I hate myself for doing it, but on Wednesday I leaked a story to the press about our break up. I hate what this must be doing to him. For the thousandth time, I curse the day I started writing that book. I lied, that’s the bottom line. After losing my virginity to Ace only to have him walk away without so much as a second glance, I wanted to forget it ever happened. I buried it and started fresh. He had taken something beautiful from me, so I had simply taken it back. I’d never told a single soul about Ace. Not even my roommate at the time had known. When I’d woken up in the morning to find Ace gone, I’d been gutted. I’d walked through the apartment looking for him. All I’d found was Casey, hungover and eating toast. She must have just got back; her hair was still wet from the shower.

  At first, I thought maybe he’d just gone home for a change of clothes. It was probably best that Casey didn’t see him. He’d been top of her hit list for a few months, and he’d rejected her on numerous occasions, which had only fuelled Casey’s desire to have him. It was only when she told me that Ace was leaving for Paris that night that I realized I’d been played.

  “You didn’t know?” Casey had asked. “Where’ve you been all semester? He was offered a place in the theatre abroad program months ago. Everybody knew he was going.”

  Blinking back tears of anger, I fetch Noodle’s leash from the hall.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” I tell her. Noodle yaps in agreement.

  I walk right into him in the lobby.

  “I read about your break up,” he says, “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

  I grit my teeth and shove past him, but of course he follows me onto the street.

  “Cute dog. What’s her name?”

  “Screw you.”

  “Interesting choice. I would’ve gone for something a little more fitting. Runt, maybe, or Street Rat.”

  Sensing my distress, Noodle growls at him. Ace drops to his knee and disarms her in five seconds flat. I watch his fingers kneading the tips of her pointed ears, and I feel a wave of hatred surge inside me.

  “What do you want?”

  “What do you mean? I’m here for our first date. I figured I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for your call.” He stands and takes the lead from my hands. I jerk away as his free hand comes around my waist.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m giving them something to report.” I don’t know how he
spotted the paparazzi, but he points directly at them. Two men in grey hoodies with long-range camera lenses pointed right at us.

  “I only broke up with Alex four days ago,” I hiss. “Can’t we at least wait a few weeks?” All I can think of is Alex asking if I’d met someone else. I’d told him no.

  “Sadly not,” Ace says. His fingers brush the top of my buttocks as his hand returns to my waist. “Now, where are we off to? The park?” he gives a low whistle, and Noodle jumps on the spot. “Definitely the park,” Ace laughs.

  “I hate you.”

  He doesn’t respond, only pulls me tighter against his side. He’s enjoying this. I figure the paparazzi have enough photographs to last a lifetime by the time we make our way back home. My shoulders are aching with being tensed for so long, and my heart is in ribbons. Alex and I will never come back from this.

  “What did you see in him, anyway?” Ace asks as if reading my thoughts.

  “You mean other than the fact that he’s handsome, successful, and the most considerate man on the planet?”

  “You can’t possibly know that for sure. Have you met every man on the planet?”

  “You don’t get to make jokes about it. This is my life we’re talking about.”

  Frank narrows his eyes as we pass, but he doesn’t say anything. My stomach curls as we ride the elevator up. Ursula doesn’t work weekends, and the thought of being alone with Ace is terrifying. Who knows what he’s capable of.

  “What happened to you?” I ask abruptly. “You were voted most likely to succeed. You had the respect of every person in our class. You got into the abroad program, which is basically the fast-track to success. What happened?”

  He meets my gaze. Something flickers in his blue eyes. “I had a change of heart. I dropped out after one semester.”

  “You stopped acting? Why?”

  “I wanted to do something else. I was only in France for six months.”

  “What did you want to do?”

  The elevator door opens, and his mask slips back into place.