Now, reality had slammed into my dreams.
Meadow took me to a designer shop.
“I checked this place out while you were getting your hair done. It’s a designer resale place, so it’s not out of your budget.”
I doubted that. My budget was almost nothing.
“And I found some things that would look on you.”
She gathered up a few outfits and I tried them on. Half of them, I couldn’t even wear out of the change room. They were just too revealing.
“These dresses show way too much flesh. It’s embarrassing. I’m not the showing off my flesh type.”
Meadow and the shop woman waved away my concerns.
“I squish out of it like a sausage bursting on the barbecue.”
“That’s not a problem,” the shop woman said. “We can fix that with the right shapewear.”
In the end, I picked a black dress with sparkly things on it. It was the cheapest one out of the lot. Still way overpriced but less overpriced than the others.
“Devon is going to be blown away when he sees you. You look perfect for him now. Well, almost perfect. We still have to take you to get your makeup done.”
I groaned. This had gone beyond torture. Was it me he was going to be blown away by? I wasn’t me in that dress, with that hair. I was like a second rate imitation of the girls he always dated. Still, if that’s what it took to get him to look at me like that, then I’d do it.
Chapter 16.Devon
I hated these music awards things. They bored the pants right off me. It’d be even worse now. I’d not be able to pick up some groupie and bang her in the back room. I had to be all happily in love.
That whole “not having sex” aspect of this fake romance was a killer. I couldn’t screw my fake girlfriend and I couldn’t screw anyone else. If the press got one whiff of me with another woman, I’d be the worst in the world. Fake relationships were complicated.
This was the longest I’d gone without sex since I was fifteen. Then I’d met that older woman, Mrs Davis. The things she could do with her hips!
Pete had sent a car to pick up Daisy. He wanted to veto her before we went out. I don’t know why. He’d wanted a plain and regular chick and that’s what she was. He should just trust her. She’d probably turn up in a borrowed dress with a smear of lipstick on her mouth. What did it matter? She was there for the public, not for me.
He was all stressed anyway because we had to get on the plane within half an hour to get to the awards party on time. Otherwise, blah blah blah… air clearance… blah blah blah… I didn’t really listen to him that closely.
“Now we’ve created this reality, we have to have a framework.”
I had no clue what he even meant by that.
“That’s fucking nuts. You created a made-up story. A piece of shit to feed the public which, to be honest, doesn’t sit well with me. I’m lying to people. I know I went along with it but the more I think about it, the worse it feels. This chick is going to get hurt. Really hurt. She’s not going to leave quietly. What if she blabs to the press? What if she blabs to her friends, who blab to the press? That’s going to be even worse than when we started. I’m not dating her forever, just for your benefit.”
“She’ll be fine. There’s a whole non-disclosure clause with huge financial penalties in the contract she signed. I’ll remind her of that and anyway, who’s going to admit to being a fake girlfriend? That would be all kinds of humiliating.”
He had a point. It’s not something you wanted to tell people. Still, he totally disregarded anything she might feel.
The doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there she stood on the doorstep. Well, I thought it was her. I had to do a double take.
“I hate it,” I said.
“I think we can work with this,” Pete said.
“No way. It’s a disaster.”
The woman in front of me had lost all her softness. All her lovely marshmellowness. Her hair had been whipped into some monstrosity. Her body encased into something skin tight. And the makeup, my God. She’d become some kind of hard-faced witch.
In short, she looked like every other woman I’d ever screwed.
“Think about it, the public love a makeover story. This will sell.” I glared at Pete. I was sick of what the public wanted. I didn’t want it.
Before I could say anything, Daisy marched into the middle of the room.
“Wait just a second, you pair of jerks. I’m a human being here, you know. A person, with ears. I can hear every single thing you’re saying about me. This look cost me a fortune and its pretty darn cool.”
Her face grew red from anger. I preferred that. At least it was real.
“Get it off,” I said. “Get it all off.”
“Whoa.”
“There’s no whoa about it. The hair…” I reached out and removed as many of the hair pins as I could find. Her hair tumbled down but it was stiff from product and looked a mess. “… the makeup…” I couldn’t do much about that. “And the outfit.”
Her bottom lip trembled. She’d cry again. Good Lord, I’d had to suffer through all that. But I couldn’t help it. It distressed me to see her become like this.
“You know where the bathroom is. We don’t have much time, and can’t do anything about the outfit, but get that muck off your face and wash your hair. None of this fake shit.” I turned to Pete. “Can we do something about her outfit? Do we have time to stop at a store somewhere?”
Pete shook his head.
Daisy’s lip trembled more.
“And don’t cry.”
But she didn’t cry. She burst out laughing. Then she threw her arms around me, pulling me tight. So tight, I couldn’t say any more. I didn’t squish into her. She’d been bound up in God knows what to get that figure and she felt stiff and wrong.
Finally, she let me go.
“You think I look better as myself?”
“Well, I didn’t actually say that.”
“Yeah, you did. Not in so many words but you implied it. You want me 100% Daisy.”
That threw me. She did have a point.
“Remember what you said about the new songs?”
She nodded.
“That’s what this is about. You aren’t you.”
She smiled at me. That smile would light the whole street with its glow. Even with that thick coat of makeup over her face, she looked more like herself.
“Because you like me as me. Right?”
I just glared.
“You do.” She wriggled her shoulders as her voice became sing-song. “You like me as me. And you do like me, Devon. Even if you won’t admit it. You like me just as me. You like me better than any of those glamour-pusses in the magazines. Devon likes Daisy.”
With that, she disappeared into the bathroom.
Pete had his hand to his mouth. He’d not said anything while Daisy talked.
“This is going to be a bigger problem than I thought,” he said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Because she was right. I did like her much better than those glamour-pusses as she called them. I liked her 100% Daisy. In fact, I realised I liked her more than I wanted to.
Chapter 17.Daisy
When we arrived at the awards night, my head shot around in all directions trying to spot celebs. I’d never get a chance like this again, most likely, and there were some big names here. Cameras flashing around us. Someone pulled me over and asked who designed my gown. I had no idea.
“It’s just something I picked up at a recycle shop,” I said.
The reporter gasped a little.
“She’s kidding,” Devon said and pulled me away. “Can’t you lie a little?”
Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that.
I turned back to see who walked in behind us. I had to memorise every name to tell Meadow. This event was huge.
I got out my phone to take some selfies. Devon moved in beside me.
“Can you go on m
y other side?” I asked. “You are blocking out Taylor Swift in the background.”
He harrumphed and held my camera down. “Stop acting so star struck,” he said. “You’re here with me.”
“Yes, sir,” I said and saluted. Bossy boots.
It was okay for him. He was jaded to all this. I wasn’t. Before I’d met Devon, the most famous person I’d ever seen was the local weather girl doing her supermarket shopping. She ate way too much kale.
While we milled around, a girl handed us some fancy-looking cocktails. I thought it’d be all sweet and delicious but made a face when I tasted it. Gross. What the hell did these people drink that was so bitter? The tears of the losers?
“We have to go to our seats now.”
Devon steered me to our table. That was when the fun stopped. The high level shapewear I had on dug into my side. I tried to dig it out but some chick at the next table glared at me. I bet she didn’t have whale bones or whatever that shit was poking her in the side.
We had a bottle of champagne on our table. Devon poured me a glass. I tried to look interested and engaged but it was just blah blah blah. I thought there’d be live performances and entertaining stuff but Devon said that it wasn’t that kind of event.
“It’s the kind where everyone wanks on and is as boring as fuck.”
He yawned, then went to pour another glass of bubbly. Some other people sat down at our table. Devon said hello to one of them but ignored the rest. They all looked a bit jaded and too cool for school. I wasn’t too cool for school, that’s for certain. I was just the right amount of cool.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” I whispered to him.
“I don’t really know them,” he whispered back. “This is a shit table.”
I didn’t care where we were seated, so long as we were together but that seemed like something Devon cared about. We were a fair way back in the room, to be honest.
“Why are we seated here if it’s such a shit table?”
“Because I’m not nominated for any awards this year. I don’t have to walk up on stage. I’m just here to look like a swell guy.”
Someone came on stage and gave a long introductory speech. I tried to listen but lost interest about halfway through. I really wanted to prove Devon wrong and enjoy this thing but, between the long speech and my torture underwear, it wasn’t working.
Devon leaned forward to pour another drink. The bottle was empty.
“Be a love and get us another bottle from the bar. It looks like the service staff here aren’t up to the task.”
“You go,” I said.
“But that’s what girlfriends are for.” He smiled at me and, to be honest, I welcomed the chance to adjust my underwear away from the public eye.
I stood at the bar, wondering when I’d get served. A guy came up and stood beside me. He grinned in a way that made me a little uneasy.
“Having fun?” he said.
I nodded. With him standing there, I could hardly fix myself. I should’ve popped into the bathroom. His gaze made me uncomfortable enough, without me fiddling with bits under my dress.
He talked to me for a while. The whole time, no one had turned up to serve us.
He looked me up and down in a way that made my flesh crawl. He seemed to be judging me and I wasn’t here for him to judge.
“You’re cute,” he said. “But you’re nothing like Julie. Maybe Devon’s ready for a change.”
Julie? Who was Julie and why did he talk like I should know her? My stomach cramped up. There was a woman in Devon’s past who’d hurt him. That much was clear to anyone with a pair of ears listening to his songs, but I had no idea who she’d been. Julie.
My gut wrenched. I needed to get this horrible shapewear off. NOW. My belly couldn’t breathe and this man was saying stuff that I needed full belly movement to handle.
“If you’re not enjoying yourself, I can give you something to make the night more fun,” the guy beside me said.
“Huh?”
No one had turned up to serve us and this guy made me really uneasy. Screw it, I’d make a run for the bathroom and get this underwear off, even if it meant bulging out of my dress. It wasn’t like people paid attention to a nobody like me.
As I walked, bits of it started riding up, other bits started falling down. I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run.
Hopefully, I’d not miss anything interesting on stage. Devon said it’d all be boring but surely people would come up and accept awards and stuff. I’d get to see more famous people. I took another snap to post online before I stripped myself off. It’d be the last for the night if I ended up looking hideous.
Once I got in the toilet stall, I tried to wiggle out of my shapewear without taking my dress off. Thankfully, the toilet was so ritzy that I had plenty of room. Also, really clean.
People came in and I could hear two girls talking near the hand basins. Then a guy spoke in a low voice. I didn’t want to be jiggling out of my underwear when people could hear me, so I kept still. But they talked and they talked. Just when I’d think they’d finished talking, they’d start up again. The guy sounded like the guy who’d been at the bar. Why was he in the women’s bathroom anyway? Why didn’t they have one of those women who passed out hand towels and kept men out of the place?
My shapewear rolled down without my help. There was no stopping it. Screw anyone hearing, it had to come off. It was a thick roll of fabric around my waist. I hoiked up my dress and rolled it over my belly. That was the hardest part. If I hooked my thumbs over it and sucked in my breath at the same time, I could get it down. From there, it was an easy roll over my thighs.
I stashed the shapewear behind the toilet bowl then smoothed my dress down. When I opened the door, the first thing I saw was my reflection in the mirror, looking all lumpy and weird. Well, that was me. I’d rather be lumpy and weird than strangled. The other people had left at least.
When I got back to the table, I’d ask Devon about Julie.
No, I couldn’t do that. It wasn’t something I could just blurt out. I needed the right moment. I didn’t want him to get emotional in public. Assuming he did get emotional. Maybe that guy was just playing with me.
I got out my lipstick and was about put on another coat when Devon stormed into the bathroom. He grabbed my arm, smearing my lipstick over one cheek, then tugged me hard.
“What’s going on?” I asked. He didn’t answer me. He just dragged me out of the bathroom and through the venue until we got outside.
“What were you thinking?” he said.
A few fans noticed us and called out to Devon. One of them even called out “Daisy” and I waved. Then I turned back to Devon.
“What’s the problem?”
Devon didn’t answer. Our car pulled up and he shoved me inside. Once we started driving, he got on the phone, organising for the plane to be ready to take us home. From the way he looked at me, I knew I’d done something very wrong. Anger rolled from him in waves.
Chapter 18.Devon
Fuck, I nearly died. Daisy was my fake girlfriend and she was a bit nuts at times but I’d thought at least she had one thing on her side. She was clean.
I’d been waiting for her to get back from the bar, hanging out for a drink, so I turned around to look for her. There she stood, in conversation with him. Not just chatting but almost writhing. I knew that guy. Oh, I knew him. He’d been one of the sleazes who’d hung around Julie. The biggest dirtbag dealer you’d find. I thought Tex and I had taught him a lesson a while back but the guy was here and he was targeting my fake girlfriend.
At first, I thought she’d ignore him. She was my marshmallow girl, all fluffy and light. She had no need of him. But the way she moved around, it was like she was really aching for something. Julie would get like that when she needed to score.
No way though, I refused to believe it. It was just my paranoia making me think like that. The waitress came over and put another bottle of champagne on the
table. I poured myself a glass and nodded to Daisy, letting her know she should return to the table. She ignored me. She ignored me and went right on talking to that creep.
I didn’t care. Why should I care? She was nothing to me. She’d do her three months, then I’d be rid of her. If she wanted to screw her life up, I wouldn’t be around to see it. The whole stardom thing had obviously gone to her head. She’d acted like a fool when we’d arrived, getting all starry-eyed. If she wanted to live the rock life, go all the way to the dark side, then she was a grown woman. No responsibility of mine, whatsoever.
The guy who’d come up on stage now was a record company bigwig. I knew him from years ago. He’d knocked back FORSAKEN when we’d been young. Said we’d get nowhere in this business. We’d proved him wrong. But his voice droned on and on, making my head ache.
She was my business, anyway. We were paying her to be my girlfriend, not to cahoot with some dealer on my dime. I should go up there and pull her away from him.
Yeah, right, with this crowd watching.
Where was that stupid woman, anyway? I wouldn’t turn around again. I’d not give her the satisfaction. I’d listen the knobhead up there talking instead.
Shit, I turned. I turned and the sight I saw almost make my lunch come back up. She walked – almost ran – to the bathroom, with that creep not far behind her.
Maybe I should just ring Pete and get him to deal with this. She’d totally reneged on her fake girlfriend duties. The whole reason she existed was to make me look good. Doing drugs in the bathroom of the awards night was not going to enhance my reputation.
This was all Pete’s fault.
People applauded. I joined them, with no idea what we were clapping. Dude could’ve said anything.
Bad for You (Fallen Star Book 4) Page 8
