by Sarah Gagnon
“I am. I’ve always wanted to be in a real forest.”
He nods. He might be starting to understand that I haven’t had a lot of opportunities in my life.
“You’re beautiful when you smile.” He keeps his head forward, and the comment makes me smile even harder. His thumb traces a circle on the back of my hand as we walk. I’m in heaven. “I can’t figure you out, Monet.”
I wish I could’ve just kissed him in the water. “I’m no mystery.”
“Hmmm.” His gaze flicks over my body before turning back to the forest. He thinks I’m attractive. I want to spin in a circle. He even seems to like the purple bikini. But will that be enough for him to choose me to win?
“We’d better head back. I think our allotted time is up.”
Bam, happiness doused with ice water.
We wander back toward the resort. The cameras film us coming toward them. Jeremy might help me get the cure if I just tell him. He might be disgusted, but once I’m Fluxem-free I could get over the embarrassment. He’ll probably realize I’m here for the money. That would suck, but I’d accomplish what I came on the show for.
Jeremy’s thumb draws another circle on my hand. Oh. I’m ruined for other guys. This date will haunt me forever.
The assistant waits by the car. “Well, at least we have footage of the natural attractions and you two walking. Nice swimsuit, by the way, Monet. Do you mind taking the T-shirt off and posing for a few still shots?”
I fold one arm over my breasts, horrified. “I, uh—”
“She’s not doing that.” Jeremy scowls and places his hand on my shoulder.
The assistant humphs and narrows his eyes at me. “If you’re not going to take off your shirt, hurry up. Date time is over. I’m sure Jeremy wants to eat and have a few hours of downtime before his next date tonight.”
I imagine my steel cylinder in my fist as I punch this asshole. Doesn’t he care at all what this date means to me? How important a few simple hours are to all of the contestants? This is one of the biggest moments of my life and he disregards the significance. Blood surges in my muscles. I’m strong enough to take him down, or at least I am now. After getting infected I needed to be able to protect myself. Maybe I should punch this guy. My mixed martial arts training is just going to waste.
“No hurry,” Jeremy tells him. “Monet and I are going to lunch together.” We are?
The assistant snorts and the action balloons his belly in and out. Jeremy has his lips pressed tight, holding in a smile. I wonder if he noticed my kill expression.
“I’ll be right back.” Jeremy runs off across the beach. He jogs back with my wrap skirt and sandals in his hands, all sculpted chest and perfect abs. I’m suddenly breathless. He passes me my wrap before slipping into his T-shirt.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper. “Are we really going to lunch?”
“Yeah, why not? You got a date with someone else?” he asks jokingly, then looks ashamed when he realizes his own words. He does in fact have a date with someone else tonight.
I ignore the cataclysm of jealousy. “I’d love to go to lunch with you.”
EIGHT
WE SLIDE INTO the car and the cameras point at the backseat again. This time, instead of the assistant issuing directions to the driver, Jeremy leans forward, and in an authoritative voice, takes over. I don’t know any of the street names or restaurants so the conversation is all gibberish to me. I try to relax in my seat, but the difference between Jeremy’s life and mine is stark. He’s so comfortable giving orders, and I can’t imagine having authority. Still, I’m relieved that my date isn’t quite over.
The driver pulls up in front of a tall, mirrored building. A few stories up the reflective glass changes to clear. Letters flash on the outside: Blue Moon Café. Cool. I wonder what they serve? I hope Jeremy offers to pay because I don’t want to admit to not having a chip. Only a few pedestrians meander by along the scrubbed clean sidewalk. How many people have enough money to vacation here?
“What are you thinking about?” Jeremy asks.
I turn away from the limo window. “Sorry, I’m just taking in all the differences.”
Derek, the cameramen, and the assistant climb out of the vehicle. Jeremy pulls the assistant aside. “We don’t need the film crew.” I glance at Derek and he grins back. I don’t know what it is about that guy that puts me at ease. He raises his eyebrows as he watches Jeremy and then shakes his head. Jeremy must be so sick of being followed, it makes sense that he’d have a friend for a bodyguard. I try not to notice Jeremy’s increasing hand gestures and agitation.
The assistant stumbles back. “Look, you might think you don’t have to answer for your actions, but you have signed a legally binding contract, and I will be filming this.”
From the hard edge to Jeremy’s jaw, I can tell he wants to say more to the assistant and is holding himself back. Instead he removes the mic from his shoulder and throws it back into the limo. I quickly do the same with my own and his frown lessens. I slip my hand inside his and his shoulders relax. “The air here smells so much cleaner than Boston. But I guess you’re used to this?”
He shifts his focus away from the assistant. “Nah, I’m not used to it at all. I travel a lot when I’m on tour. You’d be amazed at the shitty air quality all over the world. There are very few places that can afford a clean air dome.”
“I didn’t realize there’s one here.” I look at the sky, but I can’t detect any barrier. “It must be amazing to get to travel so much.”
“Not really. A lot of tiny hotels and people like this.” He hooks his thumb back in the direction of the assistant who’s giving directions to the cameraman about what to film. The door slides open in front of us and we step through together, his hand still holding my own. An escalator zigzags up the floors, and it’s one of the clear ones. I hate being suspended on a single pane of glass. With a gulp, I don’t even pause as I follow Jeremy on. The ground beneath my feet gets farther away and the railing hums through my fingertips. I just can’t accept the safety of this technology. I quickly step off at the top. Thank God, the floors aren’t clear, too.
The entrance to the café is in the shape of a sparkly, blue crescent moon. I bend my body into the curve as I walk in. Jeremy smirks at me. “You’re not that big, I don’t think you were going to bump into anything.”
I shrug. “I’m fitting in with the environment.”
He shakes his head at me. “Table for two.” His fingers slide along my hand, brushing my wrist as we follow the host to our table. He seats us at the edge where we can overlook the street below. From the inside, stars lightly frost the glass, giving the impression of the night sky. It’s beautiful.
“You don’t have a chip?” Jeremy asks when the host leaves.
My wrist. Shit. “Nope. I don’t have any money.” I try to sound like I don’t care and I think it works.
He laughs. “Well, I think I have enough to cover lunch, so don’t worry.” Enough to cover lunch for a million years. I exhale and the tension in my back releases. My being poor isn’t a big deal.
I tap on the menu. Whoa, they even have seafood and steak. Meat is expensive.
“You should get the steak,” Jeremy says. “Since I’m paying and all.” His tone is light and joking.
“Very funny. Maybe I will.”
“Do you like beef?” he asks seriously.
“I’ve never tried it.”
He reaches across my side of the table and punches the selection button for me. “I insist.”
“What else should I order?”
He leans over again and hits a few more buttons. I smell ocean water in his hair and I want to touch him so badly. “Do you want to approve my choices before I send them to the kitchen?”
“No, I trust you.”
He punches in his own selection and then focuses back on me. “So, you already know all about me. Tell me about the mysterious Monet.”
“Hey, I only know you from interviews. That’s not exactly a
deep understanding.”
He shrugs. “Okay, we’ll trade questions. But, uh—” He narrows his eyes. “You’re not one of those girls who’s going to sell every word I say to the tabloids are you?”
“Oh, God. I would never. Do girls do that to you?”
He quirks a half-smile. “Can I count that as your first question?”
“Sure, but I want more.”
He raises his eyebrow like “more” could mean anything. “I’ve had a girl hide a mic on her and sell the recording to Celeb. It’s not so much anything that I said was private, but man, she was with me just to score a payout. It was insulting.”
Ah, so I guess now would not be a good time to mention needing money for the cure to Fluxem. “I’m sorry that happened. The girl was a complete idiot.”
He shrugs. “I’ve met a lot of nice girls since I became famous, and also a lot of shallow ones. People definitely treat me differently now.”
“What do you think of the girls in the competition?”
“You do realize that’s another question.”
Damn. “So, I’ll owe you two?”
“I’m keeping count.” He taps his fingers on the table. Short nails, long fingers. All of a sudden I can’t believe how close I am to him. “I don’t know enough about the girls in the competition until I go on more dates, but what I said on the commercial for the show wasn’t all crap. I wouldn’t mind meeting a nice girl, but after my sister’s brush with skin cancer when she was younger, I’d do the show just to help other kids like her. Skin cancer is no joke.”
“Did your sister get diagnosed when she was young?”
“She was six. Most of my childhood was overshadowed by her treatments and trips to the doctors.”
“Hmmm. That must have been hard. Not as much time for you, I would assume.”
He shrugs. “I think that’s why I took up music initially. I just wanted to excel at something. Sounds so stupid to be jealous of my sister with cancer, but in my little kid mind I just wanted a reason for people to think I was special, too.”
“I don’t think that sounds stupid at all. Now that you’re so famous, I doubt anyone will ever ignore you.” At a table behind us a man and woman stare at Jeremy’s back, talking in hushed voices. When the woman realizes I noticed, she pretends to look out the window and drink her coffee.
Jeremy ruffles his fingers through his hair. “Which is the funny thing. Now that I’ve been getting all this attention for the last few years, I’m done with it. I’d rather work behind the scenes. Find a nice, quiet girl that doesn’t want to just be with me because I’m a rockstar.”
I stare down at the table. I’m a nice, quiet girl. “Is your sister okay now?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. But it makes me pay attention to how much time I spend outside, especially when I travel.” He sits back in his chair, relaxing.
I try to follow his lead and recline in my chair, but my legs bounce and I’m too amped up.
“I’m glad she’s better. Did she go to the facility in Boston?”
“Yeah, that’s why I really want to give back, you know?” He glances at my foot sticking out from under the table and smiles.
I nod.
“At least Key West has a dome. Clean air and sun protection. Cities like this are the best. But enough serious talk. I believe you owe me a few questions.” He lifts an eyebrow and leans into the table.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. “What do you want to know about me?”
“Everything?” he suggests.
“That would be pretty boring,” I tease.
“I doubt that.”
I don’t know what ideas he has about me, but I’m neither exciting nor mysterious. “I’m average.” Wait, I’m trying to win a competition. I should’ve been less honest.
“No one’s average, not really. How about work? What do you do?” His eyes wrinkle at the corners slightly, like he’s figuring out everything about me and remembering it. I pin my legs together and force them still.
“I just graduated. The last job I had was sorting database files for the library, but they ran out of funding for the project.” That was over three months ago. I should’ve gotten a new job by now. “But I haven’t found a new job yet.”
“What do you want to do?”
“There’s a difference between what I want to do and what I can do, you know?”
“Well, what do you want?”
“In a perfect world, I’d go to college and study art.”
“And in this world?”
“Get an entry-level job until I can save up enough money to get my bartender’s license.” He frowns. I don’t have many choices. “It’s an okay job and there are still plenty of people who want a person to hand them their drinks rather than a machine.” I smooth my hair back self-consciously.
“I’m sure you’d be good at it. But I think you should go for art if that’s what you want.”
I frown. I agree, and maybe that’s why I haven’t been doing anything for months and latched onto this contest as the answer to my problems rather than getting out there and working. But then I never would’ve gotten to meet Jeremy.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad.” He reaches over the table to touch my hand. The sound of the camera zooming in shakes me out of my reverie. Crap. I hope they don’t broadcast the fact that I don’t have a job. I thought I was safe with the microphone gone, but the camera probably records sound, too.
“How about you? Do you want to spend your whole life making music?”
He laughs and flips his hair back. “I don’t know. I’d like to at least keep composing, but I’ve been thinking about going to school for a real job.”
“Music’s a real job. You certainly get paid for it.”
He shrugs.
“What else do you think you’d be good at?” I ask.
“I thought maybe I’d go for medicine.” He shrugs again and shifts around in his chair.
It’s strange to see him unsure of himself. He’s always so confident on stage.
“I bet you’d be great at that.”
He smiles at me and his warm brown eyes drag me in. He’d be the most popular doctor ever. The waiter arrives with our food. Steak, with…an unknown vegetable and…a pretty pink drink. Jeremy has the same thing on his side of the table.
“What are they?” I ask, poking at the green circles.
“Fiddleheads. They’re the tender top part of a new fern.”
I point at the drink.
“Sparkling lemonade.”
I try the green circles first. The flavor is light, buttery, salty, and fresh. Next I cut into the steak. Disturbing juice leaks out, but the texture is completely unique. I chew hard. Vegetable spread only requires swallowing. This is so much better.
“You’re so easy to please,” Jeremy says, watching me as he takes a big bite.
“Thanks?”
“Absolutely. It’s a nice change.”
A change from what? An ex-girlfriend? Fiona Wilde? I keep eating even though Jeremy is watching me.
“I’m trying to think of a good second question.” He props his head on his hand. A mannerism I’ve never seen on TV or anywhere. I’m truly having lunch with Jeremy. Crazy. I hope he doesn’t ask about other guys or sex. Oh, crap, what if he asks what my favorite sexual position is, like they always do in Celeb? I swallow my steak and wash it down with the lemonade.
“What do you do in your free time?” Phew.
“Well, you already know about graffiti-style scratching from my interview.” As opposed to the illegal stuff I do for The Metal Society. “Other than that, not too much. I like mixed martial arts.”
“Watching or practicing?”
“Both.”
“Are you any good?” I like how his voice gets a little cocky.
“Want to find out?” I lean closer to the table in mock challenge.
He smiles and narrows his eyes. He’s about to speak when a screech fills the restaurant.
&nb
sp; “Jeeeereeemy! Are you filming the show now?” Then-bam-there’s a girl at his side. Then another. They’re lining up. Derek races across the restaurant from his perch at the front entrance. He pushes himself between the girls, but they squirm around him, reaching for Jeremy. I clutch the edge of the table to keep from being thrust out of the way.
“Will you sign my lower back?”
She leans across my food, giving me a view of Jeremy’s name tattooed just above her butt before presenting him with the image. Her face is even with mine while she waits for him to sign. We glare at each other.
“I don’t have a pen on me.”
There’s some shuffling around while one of them comes up with a marker. I take a sip of my lemonade even though the girl stays in my face. Then Derek slaps her on the back. “You’re all done. Move along.”
Thank you, I mouth.
Jeremy scrawls his name on a few other magazine clippings. They step a few feet back, but they’re not retreating.
“I guess that’s the end of our relaxing lunch.” The few waiters and waitresses stand off to the side, watching the fans. All they have to do for a tip is set the food on the tables. They’re clearly not going to help with crowd control. Jeremy scans his chip as the bill displays on our table. “I’m sorry, Monet.”
“It’s okay,” I mumble as I stand up from the table. The girls are blatantly staring at me. “She’s a contestant,” one of them whispers. Another shakes her head and smirks like I have no chance. Derek corrals them on one side of our table while we slip out. I keep my head down and follow Jeremy’s feet out of the restaurant. I step through the moon. I wish our lunch hadn’t been interrupted. I peek at Jeremy through my lashes, and from the sullen look on his face, I think he does, too. I guess the girl’s tattoo wasn’t that impressive.
“Is this what it’s like being you?”
“Sometimes.” His face has no hint of expression, but the corners of his eyes are sad. We walk back out to the street and I wonder if he would talk to me more if we had kissed in the water.
The cameraman pulls his gear onto the escalator behind us. The camera’s pointed down, so I assume the recording has stopped. The assistant waits for us by the limo. “About time. You need to get ready to go to the museum.”
