by Mira Bailee
“That was weird. Are we not a high enough status to be shopping in there? Did you see the way she stared at us?”
“She wasn’t eyeing you like you were some second class citizen. She recognized you.” She stops and pulls her phone out. “You saw today’s headline, right?”
“I’m avoiding that stuff.”
Maddie hands me the phone, and I’m staring at a photo of myself. In it, Devon’s holding my hand and leading me onto the yacht. A bright yellow headline screams: “If the Boat’s A’Rockin’ Don’t Come A’Knockin’—Devon Stone Sets Sail with His Newest Love Interest!”
I thrust the phone back at Maddie. “Are they kidding me? As if I didn’t already feel awful about this whole thing, they make it seem like something it definitely is not?”
She laughs and we start walking again. “It’s what they do. They’ve outed you as Devon’s girlfriend. It’s no secret now.”
Click.
That familiar sound of the camera shutter comes from behind us, and I whip my head around to see a man following with a fat, gaudy lens concealing most of his face.
“Dammit. How did I get myself into this?” I shield myself and walk faster.
“By getting involved with Devon Freakin’ Stone, of all people. You need to accept it.”
Click, click.
“No. After last night, I’m not accepting anything.”
She puts an arm around my shoulders. “You don’t really think things are over, do you? You even said yourself that you didn’t break up.”
“Because we were never dating. There was nothing to break up. He’s just…not what I’d thought he’d be.”
“Oh sweetie, this guy’s always been trouble. He’s even got sexy mugshots and—”
Click.
I glare at the paparazzi vulture. Click. “I don’t want to talk about it. After the party, I don’t have to see him again, so we’ll just forget about it all.”
She nods and changes the subject. Maddie’s good at knowing when I’m serious about something. And don’t think I haven’t considered what to do about Devon. He haunted me the entire night after we went our separate ways. I had been so pissed, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he kissed me. The way he made me feel like I fit right into his world. The way his mouth felt on my thighs. The dreams that came from that alone were enough to drive me mad.
But it was all a joke. With Bryce…we broke up because I couldn’t handle his constant trips to Vegas. He loved gambling. Not that he was addicted or anything, but I felt like it was only a matter of time. I’d calculated the risks of staying with him—thought of all the possible ways it could end terribly—and I knew I’d have to leave him.
The threat I felt back then was purely hypothetical. Devon…it’s all too real. He’d already passed the point of being a deal breaker for me. Now he was just a gorgeous man waving around tons of red flags featuring bold, black print: Stay away!
“Let’s eat here.” Maddie grabs my hand and pulls me into a deli with no warning. I almost tumble to the ground. “Sorry, I noticed that camera guy was looking down for a second. This was our quick escape.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. Can you imagine the people who have to deal with that every day of their lives?”
“Yeah,” Maddie says, a dreamy sound in her voice. “It could be fun.”
Of course she’d find the fun in that.
We order food and find a quiet table in a corner, and Maddie picks up where she left off as though the conversation hadn’t ended. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t love the attention from people who think you’re amazing?”
“But I’m not amazing.” I laugh. “If they only knew.”
“Oh, but you are. You’re Devon Stone’s girlfriend.”
I kick her under the table. “I am not—”
“You are her.”
A random girl and her friend appear at our table. She pulls out a chair and sits down as if to join us. I don’t even know what to say. Is she serious?
She continues, “I thought it was you. But it wasn’t until she just said it that I realized, like, wow, you are her. So what’s he really like? God, he’s so hot. You have no idea how lucky you are.”
“I’m…um…” Just then our food shows up. I have no way out of this.
Maddie stops the server before he places anything down. “Actually, we need that to go. Sorry.”
Thank you. I owe you. I try to push all my grateful thoughts into her mind. I’m sure she gets it anyway. I still don’t know what to tell these gawking girls, and then—
Click.
The damn photographer’s found us too.
Crawling under the table probably wouldn’t save me, so I’m left with either running away or blocking myself from his view. At least I’ve got Maddie. But she can’t possibly understand why I’m beginning to tremble and can’t seem to catch my breath. No, this is my nightmare, and mine alone.
One of the girls squeals and beams at her friend standing behind her. “Yes! We’ll be in the picture, Zoe. Oh my god. We’ll be in a magazine.” Her friend seems just as excited. They take turns checking each other’s makeup and taking care of stray strands of hair while I duck down in my seat, angling away from the noise of the camera shutter.
Click. Now when these dimwits speak, they do it with huge, exaggerated smiles. “Ok, now what we really want to know. Like, we’ve seen what he looks like without a shirt. There was even that picture of him in his underwear. But, like…” She lowers her voice but is still grinning like a lunatic. “How altered were those photos, if you know what I mean?”
“You know what?” Maddie speaks up for me again. I owe her my life. Seriously, best friend ever. “Her and Devon’s private life is none of your business. So keep using your imagination rather than confronting his girlfriend about personal information.”
No Maddie. You’re supposed to clarify I’m not with him! Set things straight before things grow out of control.
Maddie stands up as the server brings our food in to-go bags. She leans over the sitting girl in an attempt to be more intimidating. “So scurry along now. You two should be happy enough you met her.” I could hug Maddie for being so badass right now, never mind her inaccurate information.
The quieter girl, Zoe, huffs and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. It’s not like they’ll last.”
“Yeah,” the other one says. “Besides, he might see the pictures that guy’s taking, see me, and realize he can do much better.”
Maddie steps even closer to the girl, unafraid of getting right in her face. “Actually, they’re very much in love. They’re perfect together. So trust me, there’s nothing…” She dramatically scans the girl up and down. “…Nothing you could give him that would come close to how great Olivia is for him.”
Dammit, Maddie.
My alarm goes off for the second time. 5:10. We should have left for the party ten minutes ago, so naturally I’m about to have an aneurysm.
“What the hell’s taking you so long?” Unsteady in heels, I march to Maddie’s room and bang on her door. It swings open, and I find her in front of a mirror adding smoky makeup to her eyes while music blares from her computer. “You’re making us late. I’m about to leave without you.”
“Relax. I’m stuck in this stupid uniform. I have to find some way to stand out.”
She straightens up and turns toward me. She’s sporting the same white blouse and black skirt as the other female staff, but she’s added a thin, silky red scarf and has her hair curled and pulled to one side.
“Adorable,” I say. “Now get in the car before I regret ever getting you the job.”
She snatches a small clutch from her bed. “Somebody’s a bit touchy tonight.”
I ignore her and leave the apartment, impatiently holding the door for her so I don’t have to wait for her to lock up.
Once we’re on the road, she’s checking her red lips in the rearview mirror. “Who do you think we’ll see tonight?”
“Hungry and thirsty people.” My backup alarm for my backup alarm begins to buzz. “Get that for me, please.”
I hear a huff as she reaches over to my bag to find my phone. “Dr. Shannon said—”
“Leave it for Dr. Shannon to say. This has been a weird week, okay?”
“Yes. It’s been a strange and unpredictable few days for you, and yet look, you’re still alive. Still breathing.” She silences the alarm and leans back in her seat.
“That doesn’t mean it’s been easy.” I shouldn’t have to defend myself. My habits don’t affect anybody except myself. Sure, they’ve affected my jobs and relationships and my tendency to lock myself in my room for days at a time, but it’s not hurting anyone else.
“Life isn’t always easy, Liv.” She tangles her hair around her fingers as she starts lecturing me. “We all have our battles, and we all deal with them in different ways. We don’t avoid excitement and life experiences just because of unexpected bumps in the road.”
“Right. And what’s your battle exactly?” Maddie gleefully left home at seventeen, eager to live on her own. She’s beautiful and has a carefree dating life. Her job allows her to have fun and make enough money. I rarely see her in a bad mood, so I can hardly believe she’s dealing with too many demons.
But she lets out a choke of a laugh. “Do you seriously think I grew up daydreaming about mixing cocktails for drunk people? Getting hit on by pushy men? Damn Olivia, we live in the same apartment, so you know I’m not exactly living in luxury. I moved a thousand miles away from my family to make it big like every other failed actress in this place. I’ve spent plenty of time second-guessing my choices and putting myself down for thinking I could amount to anything. I should have been like you. I should’ve gone to college, stayed closer to home, been more grateful for the life I had. But now it’s too late to go back because then they’d all know my high hopes were a disaster. So I’m Happy Maddie. Things are just peachy. No battles here.”
We drive in silence for the next few minutes. Now I feel bad. How many times this week have I made assumptions that have come back to bite me in the ass? First with Devon—more than once. Now with my own best friend. I’m on a roll.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I’ve always admired you and how easy you make it all seem. It never even occurred to me that…”
“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s why I want more for you. I know you can break your old habits. If you let go of your obsessions and try new things, maybe you’ll feel more comfortable with yourself. And more fulfilled with your life.”
It sounds nice, but…
Maddie keeps going, “You have to start small though. Stop with the incessant alarms that dictate what you do and when. Then stop overanalyzing every detail. No stringent routine or cell phone reminder can tell you who to be. Take control. It’s your life to live. Try being impulsive. Some spontaneity can go a long way.”
She says it like I avoid all those things, but I don’t. I mean, look at this week with Devon. Everything I’ve done with him has been over-the-top and mostly unplanned. And look where it got you. I basically accused him of being a criminal and a man-whore. Not that he didn’t supply plenty of evidence to back those claims, but even when I tried to let go the other night on the yacht, it backfired. Now I don’t know where we stand.
“The internet seems to think I’m the girlfriend of one of the richest celebrities in the country. How’s that for starting small?”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. What’s the truth?”
I shake my head as I near the entrance to the Stone mansion. Both sides of the road are lined with cars and people. Tons of paparazzi with their obnoxious cameras, of course. But there are others. Fans? Some look like everyday people out for a walk, but others are dressed extra nice, like they’re hoping for a last second invitation inside. A few people even hold signs that shout bold-lettered salutations to the different celebrities they expect to be in attendance. I’ve seen these same groups of people alongside the red carpet coverage on TV. In person, it’s bizarre. But what’s even more surreal is how Maddie and I easily approach the gates, get a quick nod from Roger, and effortlessly gain access into one of the most coveted events of the year.
“The truth is…” I’m afraid to admit how much fun I’m having. Being known as Devon’s girlfriend—being recognized as such? I want that. I want him. But what comes with that? The hassle, the exposure, the lack of privacy, the world knowing who I am. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
We’re probably the only people pulling in and parking our own car, and better yet, my little sedan stands out like a pimple on prom night. We pull to the side of the house where few will even notice us, and the second I step out of the car, I twist my left ankle. That took no time at all. And just as my poor feet were finally feeling better from the last time I braved heels. I knew it would happen, but there’s no way I’d get away with wearing ballet flats in this dress at this party. Walking inside, through a side door leading straight into the kitchen, I try to hide my limp. It’s too early for this.
All was quiet outside, but inside, it’s bustling with chaos already. Our catering chefs are preparing the first trays of hors d’oeuvres to be ready the moment our guests arrive. Plates and glasses are being polished to perfection as others carry cases of bottles to the party room. Celia is standing in the center of the room supervising everyone’s work when she spots us coming in.
“Oh, my girls are here!”
I rush over ready with excuses. “I’m so sorry we’re late. We must have underestimated the time we needed, and then we were held up by—”
Celia grips each of my shoulders. “Whoa there. Lighten up. You’re at a party!” She points Maddie and I toward the door leading out into the ballroom. “Let’s start with drinks.”
We head toward the bar to get Maddie set up at her post. The house isn’t too crowded yet, but it’s early. The deejay is playing a quieter indie song, and the guests that have arrived are in clusters speaking in hushed tones. A few servers with trays offer them food on little white plates.
At the bar, staff mixes drinks, and Maddie excitedly hurries to her side of the high top counter. I hand her my purse to hide underneath along with her own.
I expect Celia to give me some sort of task next, but instead, she says, “A round of shots. Let’s go with Fireball to get us started on a good note.”
As though there’s nothing odd about the request, Maddie pours a couple ounces of amber liquid into glasses, and we each take one.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, we’re working, and…” I trail off as both women drain theirs in unison and stare at me waiting.
“If you’d rather deal with tonight completely sober, that’s your call,” Celia says. “You’re about to deal with half of Hollywood, your boyfriend, and Keenly who’s in quite the mood. You should have seen him throwing a tantrum earlier about the centerpieces—something about roses and incompetence.”
The orchids. I can’t help but smile about that. Thanks Devon.
“Say no more.” I empty my own glass, wincing from the brief burning of cinnamon. “I’ve never been a more awful employee.”
Celia laughs, “Consider it personality reinforcement. You’ve got to have a great face at these parties to blend in with the guests. Liquor makes that easier, so the way I see it, we all owe it to our jobs.”
“And what exactly is my job here tonight?”
She glances around the room like she’s undercover and looking for anything suspicious. “We will be making sure everything is running smoothly. So mingle. Wander through the crowds. Make sure the food is fresh, the guests are happy, and the staff is smiling. That’s all.”
“That’s all…” I look around. There are so many beautiful people here. Women wear gowns that must be custom-made to fit only their bodies, and they sparkle from an array of jewels. They’re flawless—the diamonds and the women. The men are sporting the nicest tuxes I’ve ever seen. This isn
’t some high school dance. Everyone is a cookie cutter copy of a magazine cover. This really is the easiest paycheck I’ve ever made. I could see myself making a career out of this assistant to the assistant thing.
After my first round through the party, I drop into one of the stools across from Maddie to rest my throbbing feet. My hurt ankle shoots pain up through my leg and reminds me of sitting outside with Devon by the pool and him plunking my feet into the cold water. I haven’t seen him here tonight. Did he skip the party? Did he do it because of me?
“Need another shot?” Maddie asks me while simultaneously pouring Scotch on the rocks, handing it to a server, and getting an order from a guest who looks familiar. I can’t pinpoint him though. After serving him his requested Bourbon cocktail, she pours a clear liquid into a glass and sticks it in front of me without waiting for my answer.
I shake my head. I really shouldn’t, but the first shot is making me feel more relaxed. Maybe a second would make it easier to ignore my ankle. I drink it quickly knowing I’ll probably regret it. “You know, I can’t name most the people here. You’d think my mind wouldn’t be drawing blanks.”
“It’s your nerves. Let me help. She tilts her head toward the guy she just served. Werewolf Chronicles. Cole Hudson.”
“Holy shit, it is!” I say that a little too loudly and clasp a hand over my mouth. Cole-effing-Hudson is two stools down talking to some other guy. I’ve only ever seen him on his show, and I don’t watch it that often. In person, he’s got more tattoos than I remember, and he’s much taller.
“Over by the side wall,” Maddie says.
I follow her gaze. “Bia,” I answer. And holy hell, it is. The internationally famous pop singer is accepting a plate of food from one of the servers while talking to a woman I don’t recognize. “Who’s that with her?”
“Hayley Wade. Remember that old band Seventh Inferno? Her dad was that Razor guy.”
“Didn’t he just die?” Hayley doesn’t look like she’s mourning. Then again, maybe she relies on the same personality reinforcements as the Platinum Planning staff.
