by Nova Raines
I’m such a liar. Or at least an omitter of truth. But I don’t want the dumbass condition in my dad’s will ever getting out.
Char is quiet for a moment. Then she abandons her coffee and jumps up from her chair. She walks over to me, sidestepping pillows and other random crap on my floor. When she gets to me, she grabs both my arms and makes me look at her.
“First of all, I’m calling my mom’s maids over here. Second, you are my best friend, even if we only got to see each other during the summer. You should have told me. You know I’ll help you as much as I can.”
All her normal flighty stuff and her sarcasm… they’re gone. She’s just the Char I became best friends with as a kid. When she hugs me tight, the touch makes tears spring up in my eyes.
She leads me back to my messy couch, and we collapse onto it.
She waits, patient, to see if I want to tell her more.
“I’m looking for a job now.”
Char’s eyes light up. “Hey! Maybe we get one together. What about cupcakes! I hear they’re trendy right now. We can bake gluten-free cupcakes.”
I laugh. “Can we microwave cupcakes? Cause that is the extent of my cooking ability.”
Her brow furrows. “You know… I don’t actually know. Probably not.”
“Besides, does LA really want to eat cupcakes? Too many calories.”
“That’s true.” Char’s eyes widen. “Dog walking! We can start a dog walking service! Like cute little poodles and stuff.”
“Awesome!” I giggle, my chest lightening at all these ideas that don’t include cleaning toilets. “But… you get to pick up the poop.”
Charlotte makes a face. “Um…”
My buzzer sounds, and we both jump. I get up and answer the intercom.
“I have a delivery for Hayley Wade,” the doorman says.
“Who’s it from?”
“Kaidan Stone, ma’am.”
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Send it up.”
I retrieve my coffee from the table where I left it and sip at the cooling liquid, waiting for this mysterious delivery to arrive.
Char is staring at me hard. She wants to demand answers so bad, but she’s staying quiet, and I love her for it. Because I don’t have answers.
A knock sounds at the door. I check the peephole and see a slim brunette standing outside my door. Heart thumping, I open it, hoping this isn’t some kind of trick. The woman’s nose wrinkles at the mess behind me, and I resist the urge to slam the door in her face. She’s got an assistant with her, a skinny guy that reminds me of Levi, with a long plastic-covered rack between them.
“Come in,” I finally say.
They wheel in the clothes rack, and I hurry to make room for it beside my door, pushing aside boxes from Boston that I haven’t unpacked yet.
They unzip the black cover and pull it off. My hand goes to my chest. The rack is filled with gorgeous gowns—six of them. I can’t help myself. I step up to the first one and run my hand along the silky material.
The brunette hands me an envelope and gestures to the guy. They disappear from my penthouse and close the door behind them.
“Oh my God!” Char squeals, her old self again. She’s next to me in a flash, fondling the gowns like she wants to make love to them. “Why did he send these?”
My breath quickens as I tear open the envelope and pull out a piece of thick stationery. A simple note is scrawled across it.
I want to see you.
I’ll be there at 6 to pick you up for the awards show.
I hope you’ll give me another chance.
-K
Char peeks over my shoulder. “The HIT awards show?” She squeaks. She folds her hands together, pleading. “Please, please girl, I can’t hold it in anymore. Please tell me what the hell is going on with you and Kaidan Stone!”
I press the card to my chest, and I swear I can smell Kaidan’s woodsy cologne on it.
“I told him no. I’m done with him.” I’m so breathless, I’m practically whispering.
“Are you crazy?”
“Probably.” I glance at the time and then run a hand through my hair, still full of hair spray from last night. “I’m not going. I told him no. I only have three hours till he shows up. Look at me. Look at my house.”
I start for the desk where I left my phone, and Char grabs my arm. “Just tell me. I’m in the dark here.”
I grind my teeth. I’m not sharing anything about what happened at that party. It’s too humiliating. “Look, I saw him at my lawyer’s office, and he asked me to lunch. We went. It was… nice. Then he asked me out again and stood me up—and you saw the pictures of him with Peyton on ScandalLust… I don’t want to see him again.”
“Did you ask him why he was with Peyton?”
I hesitate. “No. No, I’m not giving him the satisfaction.”
She flares her nostrils. “Screw what the tabloids said. You know half of what they print is shit anyway. Ask him about it yourself. Tonight. Think about it. If he wanted Peyton, why would he be taking you to the awards? He’s Kaidan Motherfucking Stone. The man wants another chance. Give it to him!”
She has a point. If he’s with Peyton, why isn’t he taking her? This will be covered by all the major networks. Taking me down the red carpet would erase any speculation about who he’s with.
Char whips out her phone and dials. “David? I want you to call Maria and tell her I need her to come clean a penthouse. Tell her to bring her girls. I need it done fast.”
Char gives my address to her butler and then makes another call.
I glance back at the rack of dresses, yearning to find out if any of them fit, as Char calls her beauty salon. In a minute flat, she’s namedropped both her mom and Kaidan Stone to secure us both appointments an hour from now. She gives me a satisfied smile and a quick hug when she’s done.
“Your house will be clean, and you’ll look amazing before he gets here.”
“I can’t let you do this… I can’t pay you back.”
“Sure you can.” She grins and pokes me in the chest with a finger. “I’m sure I’ll be getting an invite to the afterparty tonight, right?”
I roll my eyes. But her enthusiasm has gotten to me, and a little flutter of excitement lights up in my belly at the thought of attending this show as Kaidan’s date. My resolve has melted into a puddle on the floor. Sure, I’m still mad at him for last night, but maybe he made an honest mistake and lost track of time at work. Maybe he has a good excuse for being seen at the cafe with Peyton. I never even gave him a chance to explain.
And if anyone doubts that his interest in me is real, they won’t after tonight. Tonight, the whole world will see us together.
Two and a half hours later, my penthouse is sparkling, and Char and I are trying to pick out my gown for the night.
I’m starting to sweat a little as I try on the gold gown for the fifth time, and I dab at my damp forehead lightly, trying not to smear the perfect makeup job Char’s hastily hired artist did. The guy picked all the perfect shades, bringing out my eyes, covering every last freckle with airbrush foundation. I’ve never looked this flawless.
Char zips up the gold gown carefully, and I turn in front of the mirror.
“You didn’t have to get the lowlights,” Char says again.
I sigh. “Cut it out. You said they looked good at the salon!”
“They look amazing. I just don’t like that you’re letting Peyton get to you. You’re hotter than her. You are not her doppel.”
My hair’s in a complicated updo, and I pat it, looking at the light brown lowlights I had the stylist add. My hair is still very blond—it just has some depth to it. Unlike Peyton. Har har.
With my lowlights, and the freckles over the bridge of my nose covered with foundation, and the airbrushed contouring bringing out my high cheekbones, I barely look like Peyton. And I’m happier for it. I’m sick of the comparisons.
“What do you think of the gold?” I ask, changing
the subject. I try to twirl, but it’s so tight, I mostly shuffle.
“You didn’t try on the silver yet. Just try it.”
“It’s too out there. No one’s wearing stuff like that. I can’t pull it off.”
“Try it.” She grabs the dress off the rack and brings it over to me.
She helps me out of the gold, and I reluctantly step into the silver.
She zips it up and whistles. “This is the one! You look like a princess from the 1920s. Or some kind of Grecian goddess.”
I try to twirl, and the dress easily moves with me. The front scoops low, revealing quite a lot of cleavage, and sheer straps wrap over my shoulders. Intricate silver beadwork covers the front and back, and the skirt flows in layers from my hips to the floor. It looks way better than I thought it would. But Char and I scanned all the recent red carpet looks while we were at the salon, and this is way off the mark.
“I’m not trying to start a trend, Char. I’ve never even heard of this designer. Calypso Day? Who is that? I just want to look nice.”
“You look freaking amazing. It came with this,” she says, and holds up a thin beaded headband.
“No.”
“Try it.”
“No.”
She ignores me and very carefully pulls the headband over my updo and arranges it so it wraps around my forehead. It really does complete the look. I’m… otherworldly. In a good way.
“Well?” Char throws her hands wide.
“Okay, you’re right. I love it.”
Char strikes a pose and checks her own hair and make-up in the mirror. “I gotta get home and find something to wear. For the afterparty. And Kaidan’s gonna be here any minute. I’m not gonna third wheel that shit.”
I laugh and hug her. “Thank you. I hope this goes as well as you’re convinced it will.”
She pulls back and meets my eyes. “Just have fun. Don’t overanalyze it, and don’t worry about money tonight. Tomorrow we’ll work on a game plan for finding you a fun job.”
I hug her again. “I love ya, Char. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on sooner.”
“Yeah, you should have! I love you, too.”
She grabs her purse off my bed, waves, and heads out of my apartment. I check the clock again. Ten to six. My nerves are a mess, and my stomach’s fluttering. What if Kaidan stands me up again? It sucks that I can’t fully trust him now, that I have to wonder.
I slip into a pair of silver strappy heels I wore to a charity event last year and put some lip gloss and a few other essentials in the matching beaded clamshell clutch that came with the dress.
I pace in front of my windows, peeking out every five minutes. It’s ten after six when the limo pulls up in the road below, sending my nerves over the edge. Another car, a black jag, pulls up behind it.
Kaidan’s here.
I peek out the curtains and watch as a guard gets out of the Jag and opens the limo door for Kaidan. He’s dressed in a tux, flowers in his hands. I hurry over to my door and wait, smoothing my dress and trying to stay calm.
The intercom buzzes, and I answer.
“Did you decide to come with me tonight?” Kaidan’s deep voice sends a shiver through me, and my breath comes even faster.
“Yes,” I say. I enter my code to let him upstairs.
I check my face one more time in the mirror by the door and go rigid, waiting for him to knock.
I let him knock twice, so I don’t seem overeager, and then I open the door and step back.
He’s wearing a tux like he did at the party, and his face is clean shaven, his hair styled. He’s holding a bouquet of calla lilies, and his eyes scan my body, full of appreciation, before coming to rest on my face. His lips part, and he offers me a small smile. “Can I come in?”
I lick my lips. “Oh. Of course. Come on in.” I take another step back and run right into my armchair. “Oops.”
He steps into my apartment, shutting the door behind him, and hands me the calla lilies. I stare down at them, my heart thumping hard in my chest, the scent of them mingling with his cologne, making me a little dizzy. I can feel the heat of him mere inches away.
“Thanks.” I step around him and walk over to the marble countertop in the kitchen to look for a vase. I can’t find anything. My dad’s house is a bachelor pad. He has no vase.
I rest the flowers on the counter, feeling light-headed with nerves, and finally meet Kaidan’s eyes from across the room. He’s waiting patiently, his hands crossed in front of him, just staring at me, a look in his dark brown eyes that I can’t divine.
“I… I can’t find a vase.”
“They’ll be okay. Let’s go.”
I swallow and leave the flowers. As I come around the counter, he walks over to meet me. He stops right in front of me and rests a hand on my arm.
When I meet his eyes, the heat between us rises, and I think we both breathe a little harder.
“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice is deep, husky, and the look in his eyes makes me think he might kiss me again.
“You look pretty great yourself,” I say.
But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he takes my hand in his and stares into my eyes, searching them. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I didn’t either.”
“You won’t regret it.”
I suppress a smile. “Wow. You sound confident.”
He raises a brow, amused. “That’s because I am.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and presses his lips to it.
My body tingles at the feel of his lips, and a thrill shoots through me and settles in the base of my spine. “Then I’m ready.”
I clutch my purse in one hand, and he intertwines his fingers with mine. We hold hands like that as we ride the elevator down to the first floor and head out to the limo.
He lets go to help me into the car and then slides into the seat from the other side.
“Do you always travel with bodyguards?” I ask, turning to glance back at the Jag as we pull away from the curb.
“Yeah. Often. More so now with the whole…”
“Lust List thing?”
“Thought you didn’t read the tabloids.”
“It’s getting harder not to.” My heart twists at the thought of him and Peyton at that cafe, but this doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.
He clears his throat. “We’ll be in here for a while waiting for our turn to walk. Want some champagne?”
“Sure, but…” I look down at my gown, worried about spilling anything on it.
He pours two glasses and hands me the half-full one. Considerate. Apparently he has experience with women and their designer gowns.
“To a fantastic night,” he says, gently clinking his glass to mine. There’s a slight edge to his voice, and he drains his glass in two gulps. I sip mine and notice his other hand is clenched into a tight fist.
“Have you done a lot of these red carpet events?” I ask.
He refills his glass. “Honestly? No. I avoided almost all of them growing up. And so did my brother. My dad never cared if we came along.”
“So… You don’t want to be going?”
He meets my eyes. “I do as long as you’re with me. But if you didn’t agree come, I might have skipped this entirely. Although I am going to be the head of Stone Records,” he says, sounding resigned to that fact. He takes another long sip of his drink. “So eventually I’ll have to do these things all the time whether I want to or not.”
“I did a few red carpets with my dad and mom as a kid, but I barely remember them.” I nudge him playfully. “I guess we’re both red carpet virgins.”
He looks contemplative, missing my flirtatious tone. He drains a second glass and puts it away. “Not exactly. I’ve done enough of these. No interviews. Just give the paps the pictures they want, and soon we’ll be inside.”
He settles back in the seat and rests a hand on my leg. His hand is a branding iron on my thigh, and I’m having a hard time concentrating
on where to lead this conversation. I lean back in my seat and take small sips as we drive. The last thing I want to be is tipsy while trying to walk the red carpet. That would be a disaster.
My mind goes to Peyton, and I want to ask him about her, but I don’t want to ruin this. I’m going to rewind this relationship to the kiss at the end of our lunch date, when everything felt fresh and full of possibility.
When we’re close to the venue, he runs his hand lightly along my leg and draws it away so he can lean over to look out the tinted windows. We pull in behind the long line of limos and cars waiting to drop people off. My stomach quivers at the thought of the walk awaiting me. And Kaidan looks almost… nervous. Am I imagining that?
I break the silence to take both our minds off the red carpet. “So that place you took me for lunch…”
“Yeah?”
“Why do you like it so much?”
“It has a great view of the ocean.”
“But you could just eat out on your veranda, right? Your house has an awesome view.”
“My dad’s house has an awesome view,” he says. “It’s not mine, which is a fact he reminds me of often.”
Dammit. I don’t want to talk about his dad again. “Well, it’s nice,” I say lamely.
“It’d be nicer if my father would keep the trash out of it.” Kaidan pours himself another drink and sighs. “Ignore that comment.”
I lick my lips. “You don’t like…”
“Serena? No. I don’t. I should warn you, she’ll be at our table tonight with my dad. But you don’t have to talk to her.”
“Isn’t she kind of young for him?”
Kaidan lets out a laugh that’s more like a growl. “Wasn’t she only nineteen when she snagged your dad? She’s a gold digging whore.”
“A gold digger?” Serena isn’t poor by anyone’s standards. If he thinks she’s a gold digger, what does that say about the broke child of a has-been rock star?
He works his jaw and looks back at me. “How do you think she got that career? She blows every dime she makes. And even if she didn’t, her money is nothing compared to what my father has. That’s all she wants him for. He made her the star she is, gave her access to everything.”
