by Rachel Jonas
I face forward again when I realize I’m staring, secretly hoping this energy between us chills the fuck out before it burns me alive.
“Dane Golden?”
We both glance behind us when a woman pops her head out of a door. She’s smiling and gesturing for Dane to join her, and per his request, I follow.
“The clothes Dom wants you in are hanging up right behind the screen. There’s also a shelf back there to hold your things.”
Dane nods graciously, looking completely relaxed. If it were me, I’d probably be anything but.
“Be right back,” he says, before disappearing behind the screen where he was told to prepare.
I cross both arms over my chest and look around.
The tall ceiling and three walls are painted pure white, the fourth being nothing but windows. Unlike the floors found in the lobby, restored wood slats glisten with a fresh coat of wax. Near a black backdrop, tall lights mounted on stands aim right where I imagine Dane will be standing in a moment.
It all feels a bit sterile, intimidating.
You’d never guess that by looking at Dane, though. He steps out from behind the screen, the picture of confidence in jeans and a white tank that hugs his abs in just the right way.
He chats with the photographer for a bit, smiling like the pro he’s become over the last few months, but my attention’s drawn behind me when the door opens. I glance that way as a tall, sophisticated woman strolls in. She’s middle aged and dressed in what looks to be an expensive silk blouse, paired with a black pencil skirt. Her blonde hair is smoothed into a bun so tight I swear it’s given her a mini facelift. She clicks across the floor in bright red heels that match her lipstick and the frames of her glasses. I smile at her a little, but her only response is the dismissive, sweeping look that passes over me. She saunters forward, not stopping until she makes it to Dane and the photographer. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it, but it’s clear she’s not exactly friendly.
My heart sinks when Dane gestures toward me and says something to the woman. She levels that same cold glare on me and I’m starting to think I should’ve waited in the car after all.
Unfortunately, Dane’s bringing her closer and it looks like I’ll have to speak.
“Joss, I’d like you to meet Rose. Rose, my best friend, Joss.”
Ah, that explains it.
I force a smile. “Nice meeting you.”
At first, when I offer her my hand, she just stares at it. But then, she must realize she can’t be that outrightly rude to someone and get away with it and presses her palm to mine.
“Pleasure.”
That’s all she says, so I shut down too after that.
Dane passes a questioning look my way, but I force a smile so he’s not tipped off that I’m really not feeling Rose all that much.
“Guess you two can keep each other company while you wait. I should get over there,” he says, aiming his thumb over his shoulder to where the photographer’s just about done setting up.
“Go, dear. We’ll be fine,” Rose croons. Like the silver-tongued devil I imagine her to be.
Dane heads over and now it’s just me and Rose. Who, legit, gives me Cruella de Vil vibes.
And now I’m humming the song to myself, because I’m so fucking mature.
“So, you’re Dane’s beloved Joss,” she says with a tight smile. Despite addressing me, her eyes never leave him, staring as an assistant oils his arms.
“Guess so.”
“Hmm.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“The images he shared at the tattoo parlor are already creating quite a bit of buzz,” she comments.
I wait for her to get to the point, but I guess that is the point.
“Yep, Dane’s followers love him.”
“That they do,” she agrees.
I’m tempted to move away from her because she’s negative AF, but I don’t want to make a scene.
“Several of his commenters seem to be wondering what’s kept you two stuck on just being friends throughout the years. And, if I do say so myself, I’m admittedly curious as well,” she says.
What I want to do is tell this nosey bitch to kiss my ass, but I don’t. For Dane.
“Well, we’ve been friends a long time, so it’s just what works for us, I suppose.”
She casts a look down on me, towering over me in those red heels. “Yes, I suppose,” she replies, echoing my words.
When she looks away, I decide to pretend she’s not even here, focusing only on Dane. He’s a different guy in front of the camera. I know him as the funny, sometimes weird, loyal friend I wouldn’t trade for the world. Behind the lens, he’s a sex symbol.
Pretty Boy D.
Damn, did it just get hot in here?
I swallow deeply when I realize how I’m gawking, but a quick glance to the right reveals I’m not the only one who noticed how I watched him. Rose is all over it, scanning me with a look that makes it clear she wishes there was an ocean between me and Dane, likely because me being around has thrown some sort of wrench in her marketing plan.
Or… in her plan to help her daughter sink her claws into him.
Facing forward again, Dane’s pulled off his tank and, from the looks of things, the assistant has oiled his chest and abs now. Girl’s got a sweet job if you ask me. He poses for pic after pic, then the photographer gives him a thumbs up.
“Change and we’ll continue.”
Dane nods at the guy, then heads back toward the screen, halting when his name’s called.
“Oh, and Dane? Lose the boxers. We’re going sexier this go-round.”
Dane nods and I resist the urge to swallow again, knowing Cruella’s watching. So, instead, I take out my phone to see what kind of attention those pics she mentioned are getting. She hadn’t lied. It’s been maybe an hour and, already, they’ve gotten tens of thousands of likes.
“Enjoying your new position on the team? Social Media Manager is a pretty important role,” Rose comments, prompting me to meet her stoic expression.
“So far, so good. Dane’s an easy guy to work for, though.”
She nods, agreeing. “That he is. My only gripe is that he’s a bit naïve, blind to potential pitfalls. It isn’t his fault, though,” she sighs. “He’s got a big heart and has this notion that he can take everyone with him as he rises. He’ll realize that isn’t so one day. Not everyone’s destined to climb Everest, and he won’t be either if he doesn’t cut some of the dead weight.”
Shots fired.
No, she doesn’t say she’s talking about me, but this bitch is talking about me. I know it. She knows it.
Not sure what I’ve done to get on her bad side, but the feeling’s mutual.
Dane’s back, and seeing him wipes my mind clean of Rose and her bullshit. Why? Because he looks like sex on legs right now. A pair of black, silky pants that tie at the waist hang low on his hips. And thanks to the photographer’s request that he remove his boxers, I see more of him than I probably need to—particularly, the outline of his dick beneath the thin material.
He once teasingly told me he was huge. Honestly, I figure all guys say that, so I didn’t pay it much attention at the time, but… I’m paying attention now.
It certainly was not a lie.
He gets into position, then the camera begins to flash. I’m already imagining the filthy comments I’ll have to wade through when he posts highlights from today’s shoot. Mostly because his fans will only be typing out the exact things I’m thinking to myself right now.
One thought in particular stands out—item number eleven on the ‘Never Have I Ever’ list.
Focus, girl. It’s Dane. Your friend, remember?
“He’s a natural,” Rose comments, reminding me of her presence. I’d tried so hard to forget she was even here.
“He is,” I say with a nod, agreeing.
“He and Shawna truly do make an attractive couple,” she adds, being blatantly catty, and t
hen she steps away to take a call.
My stomach turns as the statement begins to take effect. They serve as a reminder that Dane had just been out with Shawna the night before, not even twenty-four hours ago, actually. After he and I hung together all morning, I’d nearly forgotten how I spent most of the evening wondering where he’d take her, wondering if they were having fun, wondering if he was falling for her.
I pretend not to be annoyed by this woman and her snide comment, blinking an admittedly thirsty glance toward Dane.
Please let this wrap up soon. I’m not sure how much longer I can stare at him like this and not get weak.
Well… weaker.
As if to answer my prayers, the photographer shoots one last pic and gives Dane another thumbs up. This time, the assistant starts switching off the bright lights and straightening up. Within a few minutes, Dane’s changed and coming toward me, right as Rose’s call ends.
“You did wonderful,” she gushes, squeezing him with a dainty hug.
“Thanks.” He’s gracious as usual.
“I’ve got a few things lined up for you. For starters, there’s a carnival coming to the city next weekend, so I’ll tell Shawna to clear her schedule. It’d be a great photo op for you two,” she adds with a smirk. “At any rate, I’ll be in touch to chat about some other thoughts I have. Maybe next time I can get you and Shawna lined up for a joint shoot. Sound good?”
Dane nods. “Sure.”
“Of course, it does. That’s why you want me on your team,” she says with a wink. “Take care. Talk soon.”
And just like that, Hurricane Rose blows her ass out of the studio.
I’m quiet as Dane and I make our own unhurried exit—thanks to my sore foot—but I know he notices I’m not saying much.
“Everything good?”
I hate that he even has to ask. Hate that he noticed. Today was a good day for him, and I don’t want to ruin it. So, I don’t.
“Yup! You did great. It was fun getting to see you work.”
If he were the type to blush, he probably would have right there. Judging by how he smiles.
“Honestly, I thought you’d be bored.”
I shoot him a look. “Not at all. It’s cool getting to see you in your element.”
“I know you’ll have practice starting soon, too, but if you like this sort of thing, you’re welcome to join me whenever.”
I smile up at him. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
In the lot, he comes around to open my door again and I climb in, waiting for him to join me.
Today was… eye-opening. For many reasons. But what’s obvious is that Rose is every bit as toxic as I imagined. If she made one thing clear with our first meeting, it’s that she definitely has a vision for Dane’s future.
And if she has anything to do with it, I’ll be shoved way, way out of the frame.
13
Dane
My head lifts off the pillow when the phone rings. With one eye open, I reach to where I’ve left it on the coffee table and stare at the screen.
Rose.
She mentioned earlier at the shoot that she wanted to talk, but I thought she’d call at a decent hour. Not at fucking one a.m.
“Yeah?”
“Good, you’re up,” she replies, completely missing that I’m groggy and still half asleep. “I thought we might have our little chat now?”
This woman’s a damn psychopath.
“Sure, what’s going on?” I force myself to sit up, then stand from where I’d been sprawled out on the couch. Otherwise, I’d doze back off mid-conversation.
“Well, this isn’t easy to say, but… I have concerns,” she says.
“Okay, like what?” I slip out onto the fire escape, so I don’t wake Joss.
“If I can be frank with you, it’s about your friend. Or, rather, it’s about the image you two portray and how it’s hurting your image in particular.”
I’m beyond confused, which is probably why my next question is kind of a stupid one. “You mean Joss?”
Of course, she means Joss, but how in the world can she possibly be bad for my image?
“Here’s the thing,” Rose sighs. “You’re sending your followers very mixed messages. One day you’re seen in photos with Joss, all over each other, looking like a happy couple. Then, that very night, there were pictures of your outing with Shawna—which she enjoyed very much, by the way.”
I don’t miss the shameless plug.
“It’s no secret you and Joss are sharing a place now, and they of course know you two are close friends and have been for quite some time, but… if you allow things to continue this way, people will never believe you and Shawna are anything more than friends. I think you understand that the idea of a relationship developing between you two benefits you both. Just one date and both your follower counts have gotten quite the boost.”
My brow gathers and I stare down on the street several floors below, wondering what her angle is here.
“Shawna is just a friend,” I point out.
Rose makes a strange sound on the other end of the line as she searches for the right words.
“Yes, maybe, but I think we both know there’s potential there for her to be much, much more than that. That is, if you make a few changes.”
“Changes,” I repeat. “Like cutting Joss out of my life.”
“Let me be clear,” Rose jumps in again. “I’ve got no personal quarrel with this girl. She seems lovely enough, but this is a dual issue, Dane. Yes, having people assume she’s a love interest is an inconvenience, but the real problem is that she comes with a bit of baggage.”
Those words have heat flashing up my neck, to my face. It’s way too late for this shit.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Rose is silent, maybe processing having been talked to this way, but she crossed the fucking line way before I did.
“I see I’ve hit a nerve,” she says in a hushed voice. “While I certainly didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, I won’t take back what I’ve said. As your brand manager, it’d be remiss of me not to warn you when I see you making mistakes. And like it or not, your close ties with Josslyn Francois are a mistake.”
“I—”
“Her father’s recent affair—or should I say affairs—have painted their family in a very unfavorable light,” she cuts in to say. “And as I’m sure you know, I have worked very hard to make sure the public separates you from your father’s misfortune. Have I not?”
I don’t say a word, because if I do, it’ll only be to cuss her out.
“Now, while you’re thinking on that, imagine how being associated with Joss might cause people to again associate you with scandal, at which point it would be very easy for them to recall your father’s misgivings, and let us not forget your ties to the notorious Ruiz family.”
My blood’s boiling. She’s pulling at threads now. Yes, my father is the illegitimate son of Augustin Ruiz—the city’s most nefarious kingpin—but most are either unaware of or unconcerned about that connection because my brothers and I don’t bare that last name.
“Speaking of, that missing cousin of yours—Ricky, is it? Has he turned up?”
She doesn’t ask out of concern. Instead, this is another attempt to remind me of all the shit she’s covered for me, in the name of rebirthing my public persona.
“He’s not missing,” I say through gritted teeth. What I won’t tell her is that we know exactly where he is and will never breathe a word of it. He went away to avoid the fallout after my father got caught, but I’m sure he’ll return when the heat’s off him and the rest of the Ruiz family.
Until then, I ain’t saying shit.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’ve crossed the line,” Rose says, trying to sound sweet, but failing. “I only mean to help you put things into perspective, see them from angles you aren’t accustomed to.”
“I’ve heard you,” is all I say.
She’s quiet
, maybe holding out hope for more of a response than that, but that’s all she’ll get out of me. She’s lucky I didn’t just tell her to kiss my ass and then end the call. That’s sure as hell what I should’ve done. What stops me is remembering her reputation of being a juggernaut in the industry.
She’s so focused on me coming across as wholesome and stable, she’s lost sight of what matters most. That people remember I’m human. And being human means there are imperfections, mistakes to be made, corrected, and learned from. I won’t let her turn me into a robot, but she’ll find that out soon enough.
“We done here?” I ask, hearing the frustration in my own voice.
Rose clears her throat a little and I imagine that pinched mouth of hers turning down.
“Yes, I suppose we are, but let me leave you with this. Sometimes, people have to choose, Dane. They can either cling to what’s important to them now or embrace what will certainly be important to them in the future. It’s rare that anyone can have both.”
In this scenario, my friendship with Joss is clearly that thing Rose believes I’ll have to eventually let go of, but that just proves she doesn’t know shit about me. Joss is the one and only thing in this life I’ve wanted consistently. Every single moment of every single day, since I first laid eyes on her when we were twelve.
“I’ve gotta go.”
I end the call there, not giving a shit if she’s upset, because I’m disgusted—with her, our conversation. I’d never leave Joss or anyone else in the dust to protect my image, to get endorsements, or any of that shit Rose gets wet for. It’s fucking ridiculous to even think about it.
What kind of asshole does she take me for? A gullible one, I guess. Which is probably why she thought her lame speech would work on me.
If Rose wants me to choose, then the fucking joke’s on her.
Because I’ll always choose Joss. I did back when we were kids, and I still choose her today.
End of story.
14
Dane
Never imagined I’d be putting my football training to use like this—dodging screaming kids with their sticky, cotton-candy-covered fingers aimed right at me. All so they can be the first to get to the next ride.
