by Dahlia Adler
“You saw.”
“I did. Not really where I thought you were gonna go after I left last night.”
I duck back into the guest house and close the door behind me. “Bri, please tell me you know everything in that article is complete crap. There’s nothing going on between me and Josh. You’ve been to the set, and you know that’s where the pictures are from.”
She takes a deep breath and exhales. “I know. It’s just…you really freaked out last night, and then when you didn’t call…” She laughs, and the nervousness in it is so cute, my bare toes curl against the slate tile. “God, I swear I’m not usually this insecure. You do weird things to me, Park.”
“Not as weird as you do to me, Harris,” I murmur, heat rising into my cheeks.
We’re both quiet for a moment, letting our weirdness sink in. Then I remember I actually had a reason for calling her in the first place. “So, I actually have a huge favor to ask you.”
“I’m intrigued. Shoot.”
“I’m still at Josh’s, and I need to get out of here so I can deal with things.”
“You need new clothing and an escape plan,” she fills in.
“Man, you really have learned a lot from working with Jade. Anyway, yes. Please. Desperately. I don’t know how many more messages from Zander I can ignore. But I need to break up with him in person, like an actual human being.”
“Can’t argue with that,” she says, and the smile in her voice puts one on my face. “I’ll be there in thirty.”
“Thanks, Bri. And if you talk to your mom—”
“Oh, trust me, I’m avoiding her like the plague. I got read the riot act at 5:00 a.m. for not keeping a leash on you last night. I don’t even know if I still have a job.”
Crap. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that going rogue for a night could put Bri’s job with Jade in jeopardy. “Oh, no. Bri, I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to Jade—”
“Van, stop. I couldn’t care less about this job. The only part of it I actually like is the excuse to hang out with you. And trust me, I’m not complaining about any part of last night.”
Tingles. Everywhere. God, is this what it’s like for Ally and Liam, or Jamal and Theresa? How do they even function? There’s a ridiculous storm of crazy happening outside, and all I want to do right now is curl up with this girl and hide away from it forever.
Which is probably another sign this is all a terrible career move.
“I’m about to get into my car, so I’ll see you in half an hour, okay?”
“Okay. And again, thank you.”
“It’s my job,” she reminds me playfully. “At least for now. See you soon.”
We hang up, and I stick my head back out to glance up at the main house. Still no sign of Josh. Which means I get to ignore all of this for just a tiny bit longer.
I run a hot bath and strip off my clothes. In half an hour, I’ll buck up and deal with the paparazzi, and Zander, and Jade, and the tabloids. But for the next thirty minutes, I have much, much better things to think about.
It takes Bri forty-five minutes to get to Josh’s, thanks to traffic, which gives me plenty of time to get anxious all over again. By the time I see her walking through the pool area, looking over her shoulder every few seconds, I know I’m screwed. That’s definitely the look of someone who’s just been accosted by the paparazzi. The fact that I’m the one who put her through that only makes me feel worse.
I jump up to let her into the guest house, and with the doors open, I can hear the paparazzi now. I quickly yank her inside and close the doors behind us. “Are you okay?” I ask, checking frantically to make sure no one’s ripped her clothing or anything like that.
“Fine,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I went through worse to bring Lana Malcolm a purse she left in a limo. But man, those guys are human vultures. Are you okay?”
“For now.” I drop onto the bed. “But then, I’ve just been hiding out here, ignoring everyone’s calls and text freakouts.” I look up at her and smile at the sight of her System of a Down T-shirt and cutoffs. I like how comfortably she dresses; it puts me at ease. “You look really cute,” I tell her, then immediately blush. It’s something I’ve said to Ally or Carly a billion times, but with Bri, everything takes on a different meaning I’m not used to.
Of course, I’ve never looked at Ally or Carly and thought about how badly I wanted to kiss them, either.
Bri blushes too. “It’s just shorts and a T-shirt. I was still in pajamas when you called, so I had to grab the first things I saw to rush out.”
“I appreciate your hurry,” I say, swinging my legs underneath my butt. “It still does not negate the cuteness.”
Her blush deepens, and I feel that same buzzing I felt last night. I love that I can make her blush. “Thanks,” she mumbles. “Though you’re one to talk.” She gestures at where I’m sitting on the bed, still wearing Josh’s pajamas. “I’m not really sure I wanna give you actual clothes. Although, if I’m being perfectly honest, I’d rather see you in my stuff than Josh Chester’s.”
I laugh at her sour face and grab for the oversize purse in her hand, but she holds it out of reach. “I get thirty more seconds to check you out in those shorts, and then you may have the clothing I brought you.”
“Bri!” I leap off the bed, but she twists away, laughing, and makes a show of looking me over as she holds the bag behind her back and dances away from my hands. We’re both cracking up as I chase her, and I’m just reaching forward to tackle her to the ground when a shadow falls over us both and I stumble over my own feet instead.
Josh is standing at the door.
I glance warily at Bri before going for the handle and letting Josh in. The expression on his face is unreadable, but there’s no way he hasn’t heard by now. He confirms as much as he drops onto the bed. “So, explain something to me, K-drama. If you and I are hooking up, why do I feel so gosh darn unsatisfied?”
“Well, I’m glad someone finds this funny.” I glare daggers at him. “This probably only makes you look better, doesn’t it?”
“Hard to make him look worse,” Bri points out.
“What are you doing in my house again, Mini-Jade?”
“She’s here to bring me clothes so I can get out of here,” I explain to Josh, reaching for the bag. This time, Bri lets go of it easily. “Who called you?”
“Who didn’t?” he says dryly. “Holly’s all psyched because apparently it hooked me in to some sort of Bad Boys of Hollywood photo spread. Liam texted me that it better be bullshit or Ally would cut my nuts off.”
“Ally knows everything. I talked to her this morning.”
Bri raises an eyebrow, and I realize she thinks “everything” means everything. A little smile plays at the corners of her lips, and my stomach twists at the thought of having to tell her that, no, I didn’t quite get to that part with Ally.
“Oh well. Would’ve been fun to see her completely lose her shit for a minute, but that’s probably for the best. Now I just need to deal with the five billion interview requests that Holly says have been blowing up her phone.”
“Isn’t Holly your agent?” asks Bri.
“Josh refuses to get a publicist,” I explain, “so Holly ends up dealing with all his annoying shit. Lucky lady.”
“Very,” Bri agrees solemly.
“If you’re looking for a job, Mini-Jade, I’m not hiring.”
“Trust me, she’s not,” I answer for her. “And what are you planning on saying in these interviews, exactly?”
He shrugs. “I dunno, that you’re like a six, seven tops? Maybe a seven-point-five when you’ve had some tequila?”
“Josh!”
“Chill, K-drama. I’ll tell them it’s bullshit, that you’re madly in love with your Bieber boyfriend, and that friends crash at my place all the time.”
I try not to wince at the “madly in love” part, especially with Bri standing right next to me. “Thanks,” I say, and I mean it. I know it ta
kes effort on Josh’s part not to take the jerky route. “And thanks for letting me stay here again last night, even though it turned out to be the world’s worst idea and I probably should’ve seen this coming.”
“Eh, this kinda stuff always blows over. I’ve been in the tabloids a billion times for all kinds of stupid shit, and then someone else does something dumber and no one cares anymore.”
“This kinda shit always blows over for you,” I point out. “Sort of like when Liam and I ‘broke up’ and everyone was all psyched to see him return to bachelorhood while I was the sad and pathetic dump-ee? This business is a little different when you have a dick. And thanks, but it’s already hard enough for me.”
“It’s hard for you?” he says in disbelief. “You realize you’re a lead in a primetime network show, right?”
“Um, hi?” I gesture at my face. “How many Asian actors did you see on the cover of Vanity Fair’s latest Rising Young Hollywood issue? When’s the last time you saw an Asian actor carry a movie that wasn’t about martial arts? My only shot at being in a rom-com is getting thirty seconds of one of those massive ensemble things like…St. Patrick’s Day. So, yeah, it’s hard for me, and I really don’t need anything making it harder.”
It’s only as the last word of my rant leaves my mouth that I realize I’ve made up more of my mind than I thought. And when I feel Bri stiffen next to me, I know she realizes it too.
I can’t come out. Not now; maybe not ever. Not if I want a shot in hell at making it in this business. Being Korean-American is a big enough strike against me, but Korean and gay? I might as well toss my SAG card in a wood chipper.
“I should get you to Zander,” she says tightly, nodding to the bag in my hands. “Come on, Josh. Let’s leave her to get dressed.”
It feels like an extra dig, watching her walk out rather than teasing me into letting her stay and watch. Not that we’re at the clothes-off stage. Or at any stage, really. I mean, be real, I lecture myself as I dig into the bag and pull out a denim miniskirt and black T-shirt. It was a drunken makeout. I yank off the boxers and slide on the skirt; it hangs low on my hips, but it fits. Just because I liked it doesn’t mean I need to make things worse by imagining it was more than it is.
I pull Josh’s T-shirt up over my head and reach for Bri’s. I’m going to talk to Zander. I slip it on over my head, inhaling the pleasant scent of detergent. I’m going to talk things out with him. I’m not going to do this purity pledge thing with him until things between us are stronger, and if that means things are over, then things are over. I’d rather be single.
As I turn to the mirror, I’m feeling good. I’m feeling strong. Like I can conquer anything if I just play things right.
And then I see that the T-shirt I’m wearing isn’t a plain black one after all. The letters “NIN” are clearly visible in the light. It’s the shirt she was wearing the night I awkwardly reached out and touched her tummy in the yoga studio.
Seems she really hadn’t minded.
Just like that, all my newfound self-assurance breaks. I may be an actress, but I can tell the difference between real and fake. And what I feel for Bri is definitely the former, even if I can’t do anything about that.
Good thing I’m a pretty solid actress, because I’m about to put on one hell of a show.
Chapter Nineteen
Josh
I watch from my window as K-drama drives off through the crowd of paparazzi, refusing to get within a thousand feet of that mess while she’s around. I feel sorta bad that this sucks for her, but having people banging down my door for interviews isn’t the worst thing in the world for me.
Holly wants to capitalize on the interest right away, so I’ve already got my first interview set up for this afternoon. She’s convinced that all people need is to see my face again, in connection with something that doesn’t have to do with reality TV, and then suddenly scripts will fall into my lap, or something. I’m not sure I even want that, but at least it’s something to do.
By the time I’m done getting ready, I’m already running late, but I look so damn good I highly doubt anyone will mind. Holly greets me at the studio and all but shoves me into a chair opposite Gavin Lawrence, Smarm to the Stars. A cute little blonde runs over and powders my face; Gavin’s already wearing plenty. Then he smiles, and so do I, and it’s on.
“The elusive Josh Chester!” The smile grows even bigger. It’s like the fucking Hollywood sign of teeth. “You’ve been a busy man lately. First, those new Aspen ads—which look great, by the way. Then joining Liam Holloway and Vanessa Park for an arc on Daylight Falls, and now a reality show…”
“I like to keep my fans guessing,” I say smoothly, using a line Holly fed me on the phone this morning. “I get bored easily. What better way to shake things up than playing the field?” Aaaaand wink at the camera.
“And that you certainly are! Just when rumors seem confirmed that you and Shannah Barrett are back together, this story breaks about you and Vanessa Park—”
I cut him off with a forced laugh. “Oh, God, that. Trust me, there is zero truth to those rumors! To any of them,” I add firmly, because no chance I’m letting Shannah’s famewhoredom cockblock me. “I’m single, ladies! Come at me!”
Gavin’s fake laugh in response is far more practiced than mine; I’m not sure he’s ever used a real one. “I don’t know that I’m buying this,” he says in what I think is an attempt to be playful but makes me want to punch him in the nuts. “There were a whole lot of pictures of the two of you together, and I did hear she emerged from your house this morning after some serious partying last night…”
I take a deep, exasperated breath and think about K-drama, how distraught she seemed that morning and how paranoid she is that this’ll be the end of her. It’s bad enough she has to bone Zander Wilson of all people; I can’t make it worse, even if I think it’s funny as hell.
“Vanessa Park is a good friend of mine, and she’s welcome to stay in my guest house—alone—as often as she wants, just like my other friends do. There is not, nor has there ever been, anything romantic between the two of us. Off set, that is,” I add with a smile. At least Mickey Davis will appreciate the bit of promo there, even if he hates me for sullying the good name of one of his stars.
“Then why was she staying at your place at all, and not with her boyfriend, Zander Wilson?” Gavin asks, all bullshit-casual.
“You’d have to ask her that,” I say with a shrug. “I’m just here to talk about my favorite subject: Me.”
More fake laughter. “Fair enough. So, with all these rumors about you and his ex, is there tension between you and Liam?”
Seriously? I should’ve known coming here was a bad idea. I don’t know how Holly envisions this doing anything good for me, but all it’s really doing is pissing me off. “Dude,” I say flatly, “this is getting boring. We all know nothing happened, so no, no one gives a shit—not Liam, not Zander, and hopefully none of our fans. Do you have any actual questions, or can I get back to something that matters?”
“Like what?” he asks sweetly.
I’ve never been a guy with much self-control, but whatever of it I possess goes into stopping myself from punching Gavin in the face. The worst part is, he’s right. I don’t know where I’m going from here, what I’m doing next. Without this bullshit drama, I don’t even know why people would care to keep watching me on this stupid reality show. Because I’m rich? Because I’m hot? Because I party?
When I’m not the bad boy, I’m nothing.
And thanks to the fact that I’m in danger of losing both my money and my house, and given I’ve been far too occupied with a lone girl recently, I’m pretty damn close to becoming irrelevant.
“Nothing I can talk about yet.” Being able to convincingly look and sound like a smug asshole at any moment is a God-given talent I’m extremely grateful for right now.
He perks up in his seat, obviously having bought it. “Not even a little hint for our loyal viewers?�
��
“Sorry, Gav.” My shit-eating grin is so wide I swear even I almost believe I’m not talking out of my ass. “But thanks for having me. It’s been fun.”
He blinks in disbelief as I start taking off my mic, and a technician runs to my side. I was supposed to give him a full fifteen minutes, but there’s no way in hell. He recovers quickly and we shake hands and whatever, and then I gotta get outta here. Preferably to get shit-faced and hook up with someone who’s not Vanessa Park.
Except I don’t really feel like doing either of those things. What I really wanna do, so help me God, is curl up on my couch with her for the rest of the day and watch more movies.
Oh, shit. I’m turning into Liam.
No. I will not let this happen. I’m not becoming that guy. And I’m not fading into obscurity either.
I whip out my phone, summon Ronen, and make some calls. If I’m goin’ down, I’m doing it in a blaze of glory.
I don’t know what the fuck time it is, but I am drunk. And a little high. And a lot horny. Thankfully, there’s a redhead sitting at my feet who seems very happy to help with that last one, and as soon as I take this next shot with that guy whose name I can’t remember from that movie that was s’posed to be a big deal, I’m gonna get on that.
“Enjoying yourself, cuz?” Wyatt asks smugly, taking a puff off the one-hitter in his hand. “You’re welcome.”
“You did indeed come through for me, my flesh and blood.” I clap him on the back, then nab the one-hitter and take my own puff. “Looks like the Chester last-minute-party-throwing genes have extended your way.” Never mind that everything from the alcohol to the weed to the girls were supplied by me and my guys; Wyatt’s supplied something I can’t these days—his little house in Burbank where Chuck and his fucking asshole staff of stalkers won’t and can’t follow.
I take one more puff—just enough that Wyatt’s proud face will stop pissing me off—and pass it back. I pull up the redhead and breathe the smoke into her mouth.
