Under the Lights

by Dahlia Adler

  She pulls the car out of park and starts off toward Sugar, a club I’d never go to if it hadn’t been arranged by the reality-show clan. It’s the first time she’s ever driven me anywhere, and I wonder if maybe she’s just a nervous driver, like I am. But her clenched jaw doesn’t look particularly fearful, and her eyes don’t dart around anxiously or anything.

  I’m pretty sure she’s just avoiding eye contact.

  I take advantage of that to do my own once-over, but I can’t see much. She’s wearing a leather jacket that covers up her outfit, and the combination of the night’s darkness and the brightness of the neon lights makes it hard to see her face in any detail. Finally, I feel pathetic for staring, and I sigh and look out my own window.

  But when we pull up to a red light a few minutes later, I can’t help it anymore. “Did I do something?”

  “Nope.” No eye contact.

  I bite my lip while I wait for more, but more never comes. The light turns green, and she hits the gas.

  “You’re really just going to sit there being passive-aggressive all night?”

  She snorts. “No. I’m going to be passive-aggressive for the length of this drive, and then I’m going to get wasted at the club and find a nice young man to drive me home.”

  For some reason, the “nice young man” part feels like the sharpest stab wound of all. “What the hell, Bri?”

  “What?” she asks innocently.

  “Don’t ‘what’ me! You’re the one who came up with the idea to supervise me tonight. Why’d you even say that if you were gonna be so pissed to be here?”

  “Because I’m an idiot,” she mutters. “A complete fucking idiot who will never, ever learn.”

  “Learn what?”

  We hit another red light, and then she turns to me, her gorgeous eyes blazing with fury. “To stop taking straight girls seriously who get off on flirting with the queer girl but really still want the boyfriend security blanket. Do you have any idea how shitty it felt to hear from my mom that you’re letting Zander put a fucking chastity belt on you? Pretty sure you had ample opportunity to tell me that yourself last night.”

  “It’s not a chastity belt,” I mumble, as if that’s any sort of defense. She’s right. I know she’s right. But telling her just seemed so…meaningful, like I was looking for permission. “And anyway, it’s not like you don’t know I’m with Zander, or that your mom comes up with crazy stuff like this.”

  “Are you ‘with’ Zander?” Bri’s voice is even more acidic than Josh’s when he asks the same question, and makes me feel a thousand times worse. “Because I saw the two of you in that meeting, and I saw the way you looked like you were gonna hurl when he said you guys love each other. Do you even know him?”

  “Of course I know him. We’ve been dating for months. He’s a nice guy, Brianna.”

  She laughs and turns back to the road as the light turns green. “Christ, listen to you. You know how much his ‘nice guy’ act is manufactured by my mom and it still gets to you. He’s not a nice guy, Van. He’s using you to keep his name in the news before the Wonder Boys go on tour. And you’re letting him because you’re scared.”

  I’ve never heard Bri sound so cruel, and more than anything I want to jump out of this car and run. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to cry in her presence. Instead, I inhale sharply through my nose, grip the door handle, glare out the window, and pray we’ll hit green lights all the way to Sugar.

  Which is, of course, when we hit another red.

  Bri pulls to a stop, and we’re both silent for several of the world’s longest moments. And then she says, “Dammit. Vanessa, I’m sorry.”

  I don’t say anything, don’t turn, just bite my lip. If I do anything else, I know I’ll spend the next ten minutes cleaning smeared eyeliner from my cheeks.

  She sighs, and out of the corner of my eye, I watch her drop her head into her hands. Her hair is straight tonight—a rarity for her—and the long strands splay over her arms, calling to my fingers. I turn to face her, but keep my hands where they are. A second later, she picks her head back up and meets my gaze head-on.

  She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are filled with genuine regret that hits me low in my stomach. For endless moments, neither of us moves, but then the light turns green, and she doesn’t have a choice.

  “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice raw as she puts her foot to the pedal again. “You’re right. You’re with Zander, and I have no right to question why or what the two of you do. I’m sure he’s crazy about you.” The right corner of her mouth curls up, just a little bit. “How could he not be?”

  The flip in my stomach at those words is intense and immediate, and I tear my eyes away from her mouth and force them back on the road. For someone who wanted me to stop flirting with her last night, it sure sounds a lot like she’s doing it right now.

  Or maybe she’s just messing with me because she can. “Don’t mock me,” I say stiffly, watching her reflection in the windshield.

  “I’m not mocking you,” she says softly. “But okay, yeah, maybe I’m mocking him a little bit. I’m sorry, but I just don’t buy this. At all. Why would either of you want to take a purity pledge? You really don’t want to have sex until you’re married?”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Then I respect that. If it’s really what you want. But is it?”

  The billion-dollar question. “I don’t know,” I admit cautiously. “I believe in saving myself until I’m in love. Is that really so different?”

  “Um, yes? Like, immensely different.”

  “Okay, well, it’s not like I have the ring on my finger yet,” I remind her. “I still have time to think about it.”

  “What is there even to think about? How can you say yes to this if you’re not sure it’s what you want?”

  Is it really any scarier than saying yes to this when I’m not sure it’s what I want? The words are on the tip of my tongue, but saying them aloud…that’s a whole Pandora’s box I’m just not ready to open. Besides, I’m still not sure what “this” is. Hanging out with Bri doesn’t feel like hanging out with Ally, but it doesn’t feel like hanging out with Zander, either. I just know it’s never enough. But what is it I even want? And what does she want?

  “Hey, Van.” Bri snaps black-painted fingertips. “Where’d you go? We’re here.”

  “Just thinking,” I mumble as I unbuckle my seatbelt and pull down the visor to check my makeup in the mirror. “Look, it’s not that I don’t get what you’re saying, but Zander did make some good points. Kids look up to us.”

  “Yeah, and that’s great, but shouldn’t they look up to you for who you are and not who you’re pretending to be? Don’t you want to be someone they admire for ideals you actually possess?”

  I dab on another coat of lip gloss, but my hands are shaking. She’s right. I know she’s right. My idols are actresses who persevered against racism in Hollywood and got themselves great roles against all odds. I have no idea what their policies are on sex, and I don’t give a damn. Why would I? How did I let Zander talk me into thinking that matters?

  Bri doesn’t make me answer; I’m pretty sure she already knows exactly how I feel. Instead, she opens her door as I cap my makeup, and then she slips out. I toss my lip gloss back in my bag just as the valet opens my door and focus as intensely as humanly possible on not flashing anyone in my micromini as he offers his hand to help me slide off the seat.

  “Ready?” she asks as she hands her keys over.

  “Ready,” I confirm, smoothing my dress down over my thighs. “Do—”

  “Oh, I should just leave my jacket with the car, right?” Before I can answer, she slides it off and hands it to the valet. “I’m sorry—do you mind?”

  I don’t hear whatever he responds. I don’t hear much of anything at all. Because the only thing my brain can process at the sight of Brianna in tight jeans and a dangerously low-cut black lace top is holy shit.

  And just like
that, I know she’s right. I’m not cut out for chastity. And I’m sure as hell no role model.

  Because right now, looking at her, my mind is on nothing but sin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Josh

  I can’t even believe I’m doing this right now. I only half-listen to Chuck as he gives me my dialogue for the night; I’m too distracted by all the people here, about to watch this pathetic farce. It doesn’t help that Royce thinks this is hilarious and, since he’s twenty-one, has absolutely no problem showing up and being in these shots, getting plastered. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, probably trying to convince the blondes he’s flirting with to join him in the bathroom, and it only makes this more unbearable.

  And then there’s K-drama. I look up at where she and Mini-Jade are cracking up at something in the corner, holding glasses of soda because they’ve both been expressly forbidden by Jade to drink anything harder. There are those fucking legs again. And the rest of her isn’t looking too bad, either, I have to admit. It’s nice to see her laughing. Happy. Not giving me shit or sulking over work or that Ally’s gone. Just…her. I don’t know what they’re dying over, but I feel a weirdly strong desire to get in on the joke.

  I shudder and refocus on Chuck just as he says Vanessa’s name. “Be sure you draw attention to the fact that Wilson’s not here, all right?”

  Wilson’s never here, I think. Not last night, not tonight. I know whatever he and K-drama have is every bit as bullshit as she and Liam were last year. What the hell does she want, anyway? She’s a good-looking girl, smart, occasionally even funny. What’s up with all the fake boyfriends? It’s not like she’s not the girlfriend type; she is definitely the kind you bring home to mom—if your mom’s not an insane, self-centered drama queen. Why does she settle for such shit?

  “Hey, Chester. You listening?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I lie. Chuck’s a pain in my ass, and just because Vanessa signed me up for this doesn’t mean I’m gonna be his bitch. “Wilson. K-drama. Got it.”

  Chuck sighs. “I’m not sure it’s a great idea to call her K-drama on TV, between you and me.”

  “Your irrelevant opinion is duly noted, boomlicker. Can we get this over with now?”

  He just grins, which might be the most annoying thing I’ve ever seen. He has one of those chin dimples I wanna fill with my foot. “Sure,” he says cheerfully. “Just get your friend Hudson over here so we can get this going.”

  Ugh. Right. This shit is so scripted, and scene number one requires some salivating over the girls. Of course. “Hey, Hudson!” I call out, and Royce dutifully excuses himself from the blow-up twins and jogs over with his beer. “Let’s do this shit.”

  We let Chuck position us at the bar, and I’m grateful Royce isn’t drunk or high enough yet to laugh through this entire thing. The last thing I wanna do is multiple takes. They flip on our mics, get the cameras rolling, and…

  “Dude. Vanessa’s looking pretty hot tonight,” Royce says, just as he’s been instructed. “You gonna tap that?”

  “Of course not.” Tonight, I’ll be playing the role of Josh the Chivalrous. “She has a boyfriend.”

  “Her boyfriend’s not here.” He takes another drink from his bottle, and I know the cameras are focusing on the sleazy way he smiles around it. “Go for it, man. I’ll take her friend. She’s pretty hot.”

  I glance over at Mini-Jade. She’s a little too Punk Rock Chick for my taste, but apparently she’s been hiding some great tits. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “I will if you will.” He drains the bottle, puts it down on the bar. “Come on—everyone knows you guys have been all over each other on the Daylight Falls set.”

  That’s our job, I know I should say, but the truth is, on set, when she was kissing me, digging her nails into my shoulders, it sure as hell felt like she was pretty into it. She’s not a bad kisser, either. She may be annoying, and it’s completely ridiculous that she still lives with her parents, and I’m almost positive she’s a virgin, but if she did wanna get sloppy and make out a little tonight, I wouldn’t say no.

  My eyes shift from Mini-Jade’s tits back over K-drama’s legs before returning to Royce. “Dude,” I say instead, because I don’t really feel like getting into all the Vanessa shit. Plus, Chuck’s already given me my transition out, much as it makes me wanna hurl. “Shannah’s coming tonight. She’d go nuts.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Royce says dully. For a guy who pretty much carries a successful movie franchise, he can’t deliver five stupid scripted lines for shit. Makes sense, I guess, since he’s used to playing a zombie. “Uh, we should at least go say hi.” As if Vanessa and I both chose to come to this absurdly shitty club independently. What a coincidence!

  I glare at Chuck until he has the cameras cut so I can get a fucking drink before they follow us over to flirt with the girls. As I wait for my Jack and Coke, I look over and see that there are already a few guys gathered around the table, hitting on both girls and trying to get them to dance. One guy picks up his shirt; I’m pretty sure he’s asking K-drama to autograph his abs.

  What a fucking tool.

  She’s laughing, though. Mini-Jade isn’t quite as amused; clearly her mother has her trained to be a possessive pit bull around her clients. Or at least one client. Funny how she always seems to be babysitting K-drama. I wonder who’s watching Zander tonight.

  I expect the guys to bolt at the sight of us when we approach with our drinks, but the guy with his shirt up just nods and says, “Hey, Chester, Hudson,” as if he knows us. If I’m supposed to recognize him from somewhere, I definitely don’t. Normally I’d just ignore him, but I’m on camera and feel like teaching him a lesson in being a presumptuous dick.

  “Hey…you,” I say cheerfully, making patently clear I have no idea who this asshole is. Vanessa shoots me a look, but Mini-Jade cracks up, spitting out whatever she’d been drinking. I decide I might actually like her. Then I move in close enough that he has to pull back the arm he’d been using to brace himself over Vanessa’s seat, and slide in across from them, ignoring his annoyed protests completely.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” I greet the girls, air-kissing with both like complete tools, as if we do this every time we see each other. Royce does the same with Vanessa, though I’m pretty sure he air-kisses with tongue.

  “We heard this is the place to be,” Vanessa responds dryly. “I hope you boys are staying out of trouble.”

  “Never.” Hudson’s eyes drop right back into Mini-Jade’s cleavage. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Royce.”

  “Brianna.” She shakes his hand, looking like she wishes there were a bottle of hand sanitizer on the table. Good thing the girl’s not going for an acting career. “We met at Josh’s goodbye party for Ally, actually.”

  No sign of recognition, but that doesn’t bother Royce. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Thanks, but I’m eighteen.”

  Next to her, Vanessa laughs and takes a sip of her own drink. Then her eyes widen over the rim of her glass. “We’ve got company,” she murmurs as she puts the glass down. I know without even turning around that Shannah’s walking up to the table, yet another condition of this whole stupid night.

  “God, this is so many kinds of hilarious,” Brianna says from behind her hand. Then she pulls a pen out of I don’t even know where and scribbles on a napkin, We should be having way more fun with this.

  I raise an eyebrow and grab the pen; all our mics are still on. I don’t think your mother would like that, Mini-Jade.

  She rolls her eyes, just as I hear Shannah coo, “Hey, Josh.”

  Turning, I see Shannah’s not alone. How she managed to get two more of her stupid friends to join in for this train wreck, I don’t even know, but there they are—Kaia Daniels, who’s fresh off a stupid lip-synching scandal on American Idol, and Natasha Rivers, who once gave me surprisingly good head in an alley about a mile from here. “Ladies.”

  I’m pretty sure Natasha’s eyei
ng me and considering a repeat performance—to which I definitely would not object—but then Shannah crosses her arms and says, “Didn’t think I’d see you here with her,” jutting her chin at K-drama like she’s caught me cheating.

  “We just bumped into each other,” Vanessa says in the fake-innocent voice she uses as Bailey on the show. “The guys were just offering to buy us drinks. I’m sure they’d be happy to grab you something.”

  “Make sure mine has cherries with stems,” Brianna adds, giving Royce a flirty smile. “I’m a little rusty on that whole ‘tying a knot with my tongue’ thing, but I wouldn’t mind the practice.”

  Royce bows as he gets up to follow orders, as if she hadn’t shot him down just two minutes earlier. Can’t blame him for playing along. On top of the great tits, she and K-drama are also clearly pissing the crap out of the other girls.

  “Who are you?” Kaia sniffs at Brianna.

  “Me? I’m Josh’s tailor.”

  If I’d been drinking anything at that moment, I would’ve choked.

  “Excuse me?”

  Brianna shrugs. “Yeah, ya know, if he pops a button or something, he needs me here to fix it. What, you don’t have one?”

  Kaia eyes her weirdly, trying to figure out how to respond, as Royce shows back up, double-fisting clear drinks I’m guessing have a lot more alcohol in them than the glasses currently in front of the girls. Three cherries bob in the one he places in front of Brianna, and he winks at her and says, “Go to town. Practice makes perfect.”

  She winks back as she purses her lips around the straw, and Kaia looks like she wants to shove those cherries down Brianna’s throat. Even though she herself is completely talentless and almost definitely slept her way onto Idol, nothing bothers Kaia more than other talentless people getting in her way. That I suspect Mini-Jade would’ve tossed that drink in Royce’s face if the other girls weren’t here only makes it more fun.

  What the hell—if the girls can enjoy this, so can I.

  “You ladies gonna sit?” I pat my lap. “There’s plenty of room for everyone.”