Some things did, though. Looking at her now, in her designer black dress and heels—heels!—it was difficult to believe she was the same sheltered, geeky girl she’d been before Connor. A little rough, Irish charm had been good for her. I was ashamed at the sense of loss I felt. Now that Karen didn’t need my advice anymore, it felt a little like she didn’t need me anymore.
No. That was crazy. We’d always be friends. I just had to get used to asking her for help, sometimes.
The cafe made an amazing Greek salad, but I was pushing mine around the plate. “So,” I began, “I’ve sort of started...seeing Ryan.”
Karen’s eyes grew enormous. “Please say you mean sexy cop Ryan.”
I nodded. “Yes. Sexy cop Ryan.”
For a moment, it was as if she was Karen the virgin again, leaning forward across the table, desperate for details. “Tell me! Tell me everything! Is he good? Is he...big?”
I blinked. I couldn’t blame her for assuming because, the whole time she’d known me, I’d always had sex on a first date. Usually, there was never a second date. Often, it wasn’t really a date at all. There’d always be some steamy tale to tell her, laced with throbbing cocks and hot mouths and surprising tattoos. Sometimes, the stories would be true and sometimes, I’d exaggerate. But this time, there was no story at all. “Umm…” I said nervously, “actually, I haven’t slept with him yet.”
Karen stared at me. “Is there something wrong with him?”
“No.”
“Is there something wrong with you? Was it...you know? A blackout day on the calendar?”
I had to smile at that. She was still lurching between being super-embarrassed about sex and wanting to try anything and everything with Connor. “No, Karen, it wasn’t a blackout day. I just...want to take things slow with him.”
She sat back in her seat and nodded sagely.
“You know when you started dating Connor,” I said slowly, “and he’d been to prison?”
She nodded again.
“And the dyslexia, too. He didn’t tell you about either of those things at first, right?”
“I knew about both of them by the time he asked me out,” said Karen. “He told me about prison. I figured it out, with the dyslexia.”
My heart sank. “How’s that going, anyway?”
“Pretty good. He’s seeing a specialist and that’s really helping. He’s still uptight about it, though. Don’t mention it, when you see him.”
“I won’t.” I was clutching at straws, now. “Okay, so....you did know about his past. But if you hadn’t, if he’d kept stuff from you, like being in prison, and you’d found out later...how do you think you would have taken it?”
Karen frowned at me. “What’s all this about? What do you think Ryan’s hiding from you?”
Of course she’d assume it was him doing the lying. She thought she knew everything about me. My stomach twisted into knots at the thought of how I’d lied to her—how I’d lied to all of my friends. “It’s not like that. It’s just…” I sighed. “Do you think that if he hadn’t told you at all, and you’d never found out, it would have been okay between you?”
Karen had put her fork down and was shaking her head silently at me. “What’s the matter with you? You’re all...weird. What happened to you?”
I looked at my plate. “I think I’ve fallen for someone,” I said, half to myself.
“Well that’s good! I mean, finally! But what...you think he’s keeping something from you? Like Clarissa thinks with Neil?”
I latched onto that. “Something like that. I mean, he has secrets and that works, right?”
“No. It doesn’t. I mean, it worked for a while because it was all kinky sex, but look at them now. They argue all the time. It’s only calmed down because Clarissa’s going to go with him to Vegas.”
It was true. Neil’s mysterious “business” had been viable when Clarissa had been just his...what? Submissive? But as soon as she’d wanted a proper relationship, she’d had to deal with it. Ryan and I were already reaching that stage.
I must have looked forlorn because Karen leaned forward again. “Jasmine, talk to me! Come on, you always share everything with me!”
I looked into her eyes. I had always told her everything in the past...but that was stuff that didn’t matter, stuff that wasn’t real. The one-night stands, even the escorting...they were part of Jasmine’s life. My past...that was part of Emma’s. And if I told her about Emma, if she found out who I really was, she wouldn’t want to know me.
“I’m fine,” I said, and gave her my best Jasmine smile. “You know us actors. Always over-thinking things. I’m just nervous because I really like him.”
Karen gave me a half smile, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it. For three years, I’d always managed to lie to my friends. Now, in the space of two days, I’d failed with two of them. I could feel my outer shell of Jasmine cracking and splitting with every passing second.
“We’re good, right?” I asked when we’d finished our meals. And Karen said of course we were and hugged me. But it felt as if we weren’t touching at all.
Chapter 41
Ryan
“So this is Flicker,” Jasmine told me, beaming. “I think you’ve been in here once, right?”
I nodded. “Just once.” The night some slimeball had groped Karen and Connor had knocked him halfway across the bar. Luckily, Hux and I had been in the area and arrived in time to defuse the thing without anyone getting arrested. “You know, your friend tried to get me to ask you out,” I said quietly.
Jasmine stared at me. “Who? Karen?!”
I nodded.
She blinked. “Why didn’t you?”
I remembered only too well. Because I was just a beat cop and she was an actress, an angel far out of my reach. I’d known I wasn’t good enough for her. If the TV show hadn’t happened, I’d never have gotten close enough to even try. Even now, I was still worried by the gulf between us. Just because we liked each other didn’t mean we were right for each other.
“Just nervous, I guess,” I lied.
Then Natasha, Karen and Clarissa were all swarming around us: perfume and smooth skin and excitement. They were all gorgeous...but I had eyes only for Jasmine.
She towed me over to a table and there were the men. Neil was a biker, about the same size as me and unapologetic in his black jeans and leather jacket. Clarissa looked tiny and fragile as she cuddled in next to him. The posh girl and the biker—now that must be an interesting story.
Darrell, Natasha’s boyfriend, was in a jacket, sleek jeans and boots—expensive clothes, but not blingy, especially for a billionaire. He was the opposite of what I’d expected. I’d pictured a fast-talking guy yakking on his phone about stock prices and takeovers, but he reminded me more of a mechanic. I could feel callouses on his hands when we shook and he had that steady, calm vibe of a guy who’s got exactly what he wants in life. And from the way he kept looking adoringly into Natasha’s eyes, what he wanted was her.
I felt like I had most in common with Connor, Karen’s boyfriend. He and Karen might have a big record deal, now, and he might be from Ireland, not Brooklyn, but we still had similar, blue-collar roots. He was the one who persuaded the girls that, as a first-timer, I was allowed to have a beer and not one of the crazy cocktails the bar served. I was grateful for that. I was far enough out of my comfort zone without a drink with an umbrella in it.
Jasmine seemed to be back to her old self—the talkative, bouncy woman I’d first been entranced by. I still loved her like that—I loved her no matter what—but, now that I’d seen another side to her, I wondered why she was putting on an act. Wouldn’t her friends think it was weird?
“So,” said Clarissa. “Ryan. Finally. What’s it like being a cop?”
I considered. “Boring. Exciting.”
“You enjoy hasslin’ people?” asked Neil. “Hasslin’ bikers?” His voice was a shock. Californian, from the sound of it, a full-on sun-drenched drawl.
I met his gaze. “We never hassle anyone for the fun of it.” I looked pointedly at his biker jacket. “Unless you’re one of the one percent. Then, you’re fair game.”
A slow smile cracked across Neil’s face. “I like this one already,” he rumbled.
Natasha was looking between Jasmine and me. “So you wear a uniform and stuff, on the show?”
“A fake uniform, yeah.”
“Do you get to take it home with you?” asked Clarissa. She looked at Jasmine. “Nightstick? Handcuffs?”
Jasmine gave her a mock-glare. I flushed but smiled. It was a little like being interrogated, but it wasn’t too bad, so far. I realized I’d already drained my beer. Connor brought me another. I liked him even more.
“So how did the two of you get together?” asked Darrell.
I thought back to the screen test. “I guess what started it was...I kind of crashed Jasmine’s big audition.” I winced. “Stupid, right?”
Darrell exchanged a grin with Natasha and she ruffled his hair. “She’ll forgive you,” he said. “Eventually.”
***
An hour passed, then two. The other three couples seemed friendly enough. I caught myself. Did I just think of us as a couple? But then some other Fenbrook students joined us. A couple of musicians who played with Karen and some actors who knew Jasmine. If anything, Jasmine amped up her happy, bouncy act even more and, for the first time, I understood. She wasn’t putting on the act for me. She was putting it on for her friends.
Her friends only knew this side of her. They’d never seen that scared, helpless girl I’d glimpsed. The enormity of what she’d done hit me. She’d opened up to me in a way she hadn’t with anyone else.
Now, though, she was trying harder than ever to show everyone there was nothing wrong. She talked acting with the acting students and, in theory, everything should have been fine. I mean, I was an actor now too, right? But I wasn’t trained like they were. I didn’t know who Kafka was or what the hell Meisner technique was. I didn’t know how to improvise. So I just smiled and nodded and drank.
Karen could see I was looking lost, so she tried to draw me into the conversation she was having with the other musicians. But they were discussing composers and second movements and bowing. So, again, I nodded as if I understood. And drank. I looked for Jasmine, but she’d disappeared off with Natasha.
Clarissa was looking at me, worried, and got me to pull up a chair and join in with her, Neil and Natasha. They were making plans for a winter getaway in New Hampshire. Okay, fine. Holiday plans. That, I could deal with.
Then they started discussing ski passes. “You want the full pass,” said Clarissa knowledgeably. “It’s a lot less hassle.”
“How much is that?” I asked innocently.
“Pretty reasonable,” she said. “$1200 or so?”
She must have seen my face because she said, awkwardly, “There’s a cheaper one. Like, $800.”
I nodded and forced a smile onto my face. And drank some more. I don’t have anything in common with these people. Anything at all. From what I’d seen, Jasmine didn’t have a lot of money either...but she was an actress, an artistic type. She had that in common with her friends. I didn’t know acting or music or dance and I didn’t have money. I looked across at Neil. Out of all of them, he was the only one in the same position...and I got the impression it worked for him because he just plain didn’t care.
I couldn’t get away from the feeling that I wasn’t right for her. I remembered the guy Jasmine had meant to be acting with, when I’d stormed into her audition. Sure, he was a jerk, but he had money and he knew this whole world of ad-libbing and method acting. I was just a big, dumb cop. Police work was all I was really good at. And I’d even managed to mess that up and get my partner killed.
Thinking of Hux made my mouth go dry, so I sank another beer.
Chapter 42
Jasmine
I was happy. Flicker felt like home and having all my friends and Ryan there made it even better. Then a couple of people from my acting classes at Fenbrook showed up and we got to talking about the show. Ryan, though, seemed withdrawn, more focused on drinking than joining in with us. What was his problem?
To my relief, Karen drew him into her conversation about music. Good timing, because Natasha pulled me away from the table to talk in private.
“You okay?” she asked. “Clarissa and Karen said you’ve been acting...weird.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just fine.” I glanced across at Darrell. “How’s stuff with you guys?”
Natasha sighed. “Good, I guess. I mean, it’s great, living in the mansion.”
I narrowed my eyes. “By great, do you kind of mean...bad?”
“No! Of course not! We’ve got a hot tub, for God’s sake. And have you seen the kitchen? And we have parties all the time.”
They did, too. The sort of parties where waiters handed you flutes of champagne from silver trays. I’d been to several of them, now. “So…?”
She gave me a fake-looking grin. “Nothing! It’s all good.”
I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me. She looked sort of drawn and… Shit! Was it because I was lying to her? Had I distanced myself, with all my hiding, pushed myself further and further away, until none of them trusted me anymore? Was that why Karen seemed colder toward me?
I wanted to help her but I didn’t feel I could push...not while I was holding back so much myself. So instead, I found myself looking at Darrell. “You remember when you two started going out?” I asked. “When he didn’t know about...the cutting?”
Natasha had been self-harming, back when they’d met. Clarissa had apparently known because they lived together, but she’d kept it a secret from the rest of us. In a way, that made me feel better—I wasn’t the only one who’d kept things from my friends. But she’d at least told one person...and keeping a problem like self-harming secret isn’t on the same level as lying about who you really are.
Natasha nodded a little stiffly. “Sure.”
I chose my words carefully—I didn’t want to upset her. “He tried to find out, right? Before you told him? I mean, he kept asking questions and wanting to know?”
She nodded again. “Yeah. And I wouldn’t open up. It almost split us up. I walked out on him, in fact.”
“What made it okay?” I knew I was saying too much. Between Clarissa, Karen and now Nat, I was asking way too many suspicious questions. But I had to know.
She shook her head. “Nothing. It wasn’t okay.” She sighed. “Until...he found out everything. And then I found that he was having problems, too. And we sort of...shared. And he told me he loved me just as I was.” She blinked and I realized she was tearing up.
“Shit! Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
She shook her head again and blinked frantically. “No, it’s fine.” She took a deep breath and regained control. “Anyway, that was it. He kept asking and pushing and... I guess, in a way, I’m glad he did because it meant I had to let him in. If I hadn’t, I’d never have known he loved me. I’d have kept thinking he didn’t know the real me, inside. I don’t think we could have lasted long, that way.” She gave me a sad grin. “This is probably making no sense at all.”
But it was. It made all the sense in the world, except...Natasha had only had to reveal that she self-harmed and why she did it. Of course he’d still loved her, when he found out.
If Ryan found out what had happened to me, and what I’d done—and chosen not to do—it really would be over. And, from what Natasha was saying, keeping it all from him forever wasn’t an option, either.
I sighed and looked across at Ryan. He was working quickly through yet another beer. Oh, hell—was he getting drunk? He was talking to Clarissa and Darrell, now, but didn’t seem to be saying much. What’s the problem? Are my friends not good enough for you?! Did he think a bunch of actors and musicians and ballerinas were all too silly and flighty and not “real workers,” like cops?
I could feel myself getting angry and I knew, on some level, that it wasn’t really Ryan I was angry at. I was mad at myself for the way I was letting my friendships break apart...and for the fact that the same damn thing was going to happen between Ryan and me, if I couldn’t figure out a solution.
Ryan finished his beer. I sat down next to him. “Maybe you should switch to water,” I said lightly.
“I’m fine,” he told me. And I could hear the booze in his voice. Not quite a slur, but that determined, over-loud tone that I remembered from—
I squeezed my eyes shut. No. Ryan was nothing like that.
But now that I’d had the thought, I couldn’t shut it out. When I opened my eyes, Ryan was smiling at me—apologetically, because he must have realized he’d sounded snappy. But in my mind, the smile turned cruel. It wasn’t the booze I minded. I drank plenty myself, had been drunk plenty of times myself. It wasn’t even him being drunk, specifically, that I minded. It was being around a drunk man.
He’s nothing like that, I told myself again.
But my brain locked onto the glazed look in his eyes. I was viewing him through the filter of my memories, now, and I was worried those eyes could narrow and turn mean.
My dad, breathing whiskey fumes on my face as he pounds my belly with his fists—
Drunken men in a group around me, moving me toward the back room—
I got up from the table.
“Are we leaving?” asked Ryan.
“No. I am.” I could feel my legs shaking.
“Jasmine?” Karen was looking at me, concerned.
“I’ll walk you home,” said Ryan, getting up.
“You’re drunk,” I snapped.
“No!” He considered. “Maybe. A bit. So what?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t explain. I ran for the door. I heard Ryan start after me but, when I looked back, Neil had grabbed his arm, shaking his head at him. A good thing, too, or we’d have had a full-on row in front of everyone.
I jumped into the first cab I saw, tears in my eyes.
Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3) Page 25
