by C. J. Duggan
Jay turned, looking me over again in a long, drawn-out assessment.
‘What about you? You still have that twinkle in your eye, living the dream?’
It was a low blow, and I would have taken exception to it if he hadn’t made an attempt to lift my spirits in the last five minutes.
I lifted my tank top to reveal my stomach, showing just how bad my spray tan was. A large dark orange circle the size of a dinner plate was smack-bang in the centre of my abdomen. ‘Does it look like I’m living the dream?’
Jay broke into a broad, brilliant grin, the kind that was contagious, as he worked on opening his door. ‘You just can’t seem to keep your clothes on around me, can you?’ he said, pushing his door open.
‘I’m just showing you my tan!’
Jay laughed, shaking his head as he stepped inside his condo. ‘A likely story.’
Chapter Nineteen
I felt like I had gone through some kind of decontamination procedure, and my skin was raw and tender. I’d removed as much of the terrible tan as I could, short of a full-body chemical peel. As long as I avoided fluorescent lighting, particularly on the stubborn streaks on my legs leading down to my muddy-looking ankles, I should be fine, right? Or had I just stared at myself for so long I couldn’t remember the real colour of my skin?
Where was Billie when I needed her brutal honesty? I had to run the standard pre-outing questions by her: ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ and ‘Do I look like a faded peach?’
I opted for a dress that covered a bit more skin, with my hair down, covering my shoulders. I shifted from side to side in front of the mirror, pangs of anxiety clawing at me. God, I really needed a second opinion.
Someone who would give me the most honest opinion, who wouldn’t pull any punches, who had seen me at my most orangey worst.
I stilled.
Surely I couldn’t.
What? Ask Jay if I looked alright, actually invite his criticism? How ridiculous. Weren’t men programmed to lie when responding to such trick questions anyway? I sighed, looking over my reflection once more.
‘Only one way to find out, I guess.’
I made a determined line down the hall, opening the front door and stepping into the small alcove, stopping to take a deep, steadying breath.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
I squared my shoulders, stepped forward and rapped on Jay’s door. I made sure my knocks sounded strong, confident. After all, this was no big deal.
After waiting a long minute I was ready to duck back into my door and pretend I was never here. Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? Jay and I weren’t friends. Just because he’d admitted that he didn’t hate me didn’t mean he was my confidant. But it was too late; the moment I turned Jay’s door swung open, whipping an aroma of delicious spices from his place into my nostrils, causing my stomach to rumble involuntarily. Jay stood there, drying his hands on a tea towel. If he was surprised to see me he didn’t let on; he simply leant against his doorway, waiting for me to stop staring.
I was frozen in the breezeway, caught between my door and his, confused about what to do now. Jay kinked a brow at me, waiting for me to say something, but my mind went blank. How could I possibly stand here and ask how I looked? While I was at it, perhaps I could do a twirl and lift out my legs for him to examine – which, by the way, he already was, giving them a long, lingering assessment in my heels and knee-length black number, this one with sleeves and covering a little bit more of my orange-tinged skin. This had been such a dumb idea; I would simply ask for some sugar or something.
Just when I was about to stammer my way through some lame excuse, Jay saved me from myself. ‘You look beautiful.’
My jaw went slack – I was now frozen for a completely different reason, no less awkward but far more surprised. I double-blinked.
‘R-really?’ I asked, disbelieving that those words had come out of Jay’s mouth.
‘Really,’ he said, finding my shock extremely amusing. ‘Hey, listen, can you give me ten? I’ve just got to take this off the simmer and then I’m pretty much ready to go,’ he said, pushing off the door jamb and heading back into his apartment.
I stood there, confused, edging forward and slowly peering through his open doorway. ‘Ah, go? Go where?’ I called out, seeing nothing but a narrow hall curving off into the unknown, the mirror image of Billie’s entryway.
I stepped inside tentatively, listening in case he replied. But all I could hear was clattering and movement in the kitchen, running water and the tapping of utensils. Before I thought through what I was doing, I stepped down the hall, following the sounds and being lured by the mouthwatering aromas.
I moved into the opening near the kitchen, expecting to find Jay standing in a space identical to our own next door. But apart from the layout, Jay’s place had nothing in common with ours and it really took me aback. It was a whole other world away from Billie’s boho, eclectic faux furs and fabrics, potted greenery and eccentric clutter. This was sleek and minimalistic, but uber-stylish.
I took in the glass tabletops, glossy hardwood flooring and high-tech surround sound system; everything was modern with sharp edges, decorated sparingly with carefully planned placement of items that obviously had meaning. Unlike Billie’s dated kitchen, Jay’s was stainless-steel perfection that any chef would be happy to have. There was a serious amount of money outlaid in his condo, though it wasn’t showy and denoted a great sense of style – undeniably Jay. It was strange to watch him in his natural habitat, moving around and working on seasoning a pot, stirring and then sliding to the sink to run water over his spoon.
‘Do you like chilli?’
I flinched, coming back to my senses. I was surprised he knew I was here; I had kind of been lurking in the shadows, watching him, which really needed to stop. I cleared my throat and stepped fully into the light.
‘Is that a trick question?’ I asked, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor into the kitchen as I came to stand beside Jay. I looked into the pot he was stirring, surprised by the simplicity of the dish.
‘What? You expected duck cassoulet?’ He laughed, clearly reading my surprise.
‘Isn’t chilli something you cook when you’re on a budget?’ I mused, looking curiously around his plush apartment. Perhaps Jay had spent all his money on his flash car and décor and now had to eat like a pauper.
Jay tapped the side of the pot. ‘Chilli is a classic.’
‘If you say so. All I know is that John Wayne ate it in a Western I watched once.’ I shrugged.
Jay laughed. ‘Is everything you know from a movie?’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘Yeah, pretty much.’
Jay skimmed a sample of chilli onto his spoon, bringing it up to his mouth and blowing on it, cupping his hand underneath to prevent possible drippage onto his immaculate kitchen tops. I watched on in casual amusement, my hip cocked, leaning near the stove. Only when Jay held the spoon out to me did I straighten.
‘Have a taste.’
I scoffed. ‘Ah, no, thanks; I don’t like spicy food.’
Jay smiled, broad and wicked. ‘It’s not that spicy.’
‘Well, forgive me if I don’t believe you.’
‘Whoa, what does a guy have to do to earn your trust?’ he said, relenting and taking the spoonful for himself, his eyes rolling as if he was a culinary genius. ‘Man, that is so good.’
So modest.
‘Okay, that’s done – give me a sec to change and then we can go,’ Jay said, running his hands under the water at the sink, speaking those same confusing words again.
‘Go? Where?’
Jay looked at me, drying his hands. ‘Billie said you needed a lift to Skybar.’
I was going to kill her!
‘Oh God, you don’t have to take me. I have it all worked out – it’s pretty direct,’ I lied. I actually only had a vague idea of where I was going and how I was going to get there, which had given me an immense amou
nt of anxiety and caused me to practically beg Billie to go with me (which she had strenuously declined – again). I’m sure Billie’s request for a night off would have thrilled Jay no end: ‘Oh, hey, Jay, can I take the night off to accompany my best friend to drinks with a bunch of fellow actors that neither of us like?’ Yeah, I could understand why she turned me down.
‘It’s not direct without a car.’
I had wondered if that was why Sienna had chosen the location, guessing that I mightn’t have a car yet. I wouldn’t have put it past her.
‘Still, you must have plans – better things to do than drive me around.’
Jay sighed, looking at me like he wished I would just stop talking. ‘Abby.’
‘Yes?’
‘Take the damn ride.’
I smiled, but only a little because I didn’t want the full extent of my relief to be so apparent. ‘Well, if you insist.’
Sitting on Jay’s black leather couch, waiting for him to appear, I started to doubt everything. Maybe I could call off the drinks; I mean, look at my legs! Had she finger-painted me? What time did the sun go down in LA? Did the bar have mood lighting or harsh lighting?
‘I think I’m going to go and put pants on,’ I called out, moving to stand only to be stopped by Jay appearing from out of his bedroom, shrugging on his jacket and fixing the collar of his stark white shirt. He looked gorgeous: cool, casual but oh so smart. He knew the scene, knew this town like the back of his hand and should he choose to drive me around the entire city, who was I to argue?
‘What did you say?’
I blinked. ‘Oh, nothing. Let’s go.’
Chapter Twenty
West Hollywood was a grid of wide boulevards and narrow residential streets. The neighbourhood also had a concentration of the most avant-garde restaurants in Los Angeles (rivalled only by the burgeoning restaurant scene Downtown). So it was little wonder this was the neighbourhood of choice for the entertainment industry’s up-and-comers. Producers, directors, writers and aspiring actors called this area home, or so Jay informed me.
Taming the wisps of hair that whipped around my face in the cool evening air, I managed a side glance at Jay, wondering again what he was doing here, in this town, in this scene. He looked every bit the part of a Hollywood star. Jay conversed effortlessly, pointing out landmarks and telling stories, a stark contrast to our first car ride together, in which he’d seemed barely able to construct a sentence. Tonight, he seemed relaxed.
‘So what’s this place like? Will the lighting be harsh on my skin?’ I said, studying my arm, paranoia at an all-time high.
‘Relax, I’ve called ahead and organised for you to be slipped in through the back entrance, through the kitchen under a blanket.’
‘Oh, ha-ha,’ I said.
‘You look fine,’ he said, but I really wanted him to tell me I looked beautiful like the first time; geez, when had I become so needy?
‘Why do you care so much anyway?’ Jay asked. ‘Your manager, the audition, sure, but why is drinks with your friends worth stressing over?’
I scoffed. He really had no idea.
‘They’re not my friends.’
Jay flicked me a glance. ‘What?’ he smirked.
‘I don’t even think I like any of these people and, truth be known, I actually feel physically ill at the thought of catching up with them tonight.’
Jay stared at me, confusion evident on his face. He studied me until the car behind us honked to let us know the lights had changed. Jay quickly moved into gear.
‘Okay, so let me get this straight: not only do you have lunch dates with people you don’t like, you have drinks with them too?’
‘Well, yeah, same girl you met at lunch, Sienna Bailey and the “LA Family”.’
‘The LA Family?’
Oh, I really should stop talking. As the words tumbled out of my mouth, they sounded juvenile and ridiculous. But how would someone outside of this world understand the need to network, which, more often than not, meant socialising with people you didn’t even like.
‘I know it sounds crazy,’ I said, looking down and smoothing my dress across my lap. I really didn’t want to get into the dynamics of the LA Family, especially to Jay. At this point I really just wanted him to drop me off so I could get this night over with, and be left to stress about my meeting with Ziggy tomorrow. Best to just focus on one thing at a time.
I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I know we had a private booking – Sienna had ensured me as much. But what did that mean? Would I wink at the doorman as he unlinked a velvet rope for me? I had no idea how it worked.
Luckily, Jay seemed to pick up on my terrified energy and took the lead. He parked the car across the street and, without a word, slid out from the driver’s side and made his way around to my door. If he hadn’t opened it up for me I probably wouldn’t have moved from my seat. There was a long queue outside and a couple of men with cameras lingering nearby, waiting for a newsworthy shot. I was very much a nobody, able to skim through the crowds in obscurity, although I was sure that certain members of the LA Family wouldn’t be as lucky. Knowing them, they wouldn’t care. Whether it was a protective measure or Jay thought I was actually more of a big deal than I was, he led me away from the paps loitering down the street, and I laughed.
‘Good idea – imagine how the tan would look under flashlight.’
But Jay didn’t laugh, instead marching me across the street until we were safely curb-side. Looking down the street and over his shoulder, he was one earpiece away from being a bodyguard; were we in a dodgy part of town? My smile dimmed, seeing the trademark serious façade slam down over Jay’s previously relaxed demeanour.
‘What’s wrong?’
Jay’s focus shifted back to me and he tried to force a smile. ‘No, nothing. So you think you’ll be right from here?’
‘Sure, I’ll just join the queue and name-drop at the door.’
He nodded in hesitant approval, but he didn’t seem happy about it. Glancing down the street once more, he seemed eager to leave.
‘Thanks for the ride. I’ll find my own way back,’ I said, but it fell on deaf ears.
‘Okay,’ he said, stepping away without so much as a ‘see ya’. I would have been a bit offended had a deafening squeal from behind us not completely destabilised me.
‘There you are!’ Sienna Bailey’s heels clicked to a run – well, the closest thing to a run as she could manage in her skin-tight skirt – wrapping her arms around me. ‘I am so happy to see you,’ she said, pulling back and cupping my face as if she was committing it to memory, before her eyes lifted and her face brightened. ‘And you brought Jay, awesome!’ She beamed, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him, closer and longer than she did me.
Jay’s eyes shifted to mine, his horror evident, as if he were a fly caught in a spider web, which was not so far from the reality of the situation. Before he could protest, Sienna slipped her hand into his and grabbed mine, dragging us into motion.
‘You’re going to love this place – it has some of the finest views of LA,’ she said, hauling us past the long line of patiently waiting customers and straight up to the doorman.
‘Leon Denero party.’
And as if she had summoned him by magic, Leon appeared from behind us, on his phone, nodding at the doorman in a ‘what’s up’ gesture as his bodyguard barked at the crowd to keep their distance. I felt Jay’s hand at my back, guiding me inside as the doorman stepped aside, allowing us in just as the paps starting yelling for Leon’s attention.
‘Leon, man, right here, brother! Come on, give us a wave, yeah?’
‘Leon, Leon, are you excited for the next Hero Squad movie?’
‘Leon, are the rumours true? Did Mexico happen?’
It was fast and confusing, much like the plotless movies Leon was linked to, but he didn’t flinch at the attention; he simply smiled wolfishly. ‘What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico.’ He winked, leading his entourage, which
somehow included Jay and me, into the bar.
‘You can go if you want,’ I said in a low voice, feeling terrible for subjecting him to a world he was clearly repelled by.
‘Ah, yeah, about that,’ he said, glancing down at Sienna’s arm, firmly linked through his, pulling him into the restaurant.
‘Fashionably late,’ called out Dion Preston, moving from his position at the bar and heading towards Leon.
‘You know it, brother.’ He laughed as they slapped hands and bumped fists in the most elaborately choreographed handshake I had ever seen. Disappointingly, it didn’t end with a synchronised chest bump. I wished I could telepathically communicate with Jay to gauge what he was thinking about all this, yet his sneaky little brow rise clearly said, ‘What fresh hell is this?’ And I kind of adored him for it.
Billie assured me that there was no chance that Jay was going to get starstruck anytime soon, which made him the perfect, if reluctant, wingman. Much to his surprise, I linked my arm through his, the other side still occupied by Sienna, who appeared to have permanently fused herself to him. Meanwhile, Leon worked the waiting group inside with more secret handshakes and back slaps.
‘Leon, these are the two I was telling you about,’ Sienna called out over the noise, but Leon didn’t seem to hear her, or didn’t want to.
‘Oh, man, it’s so loud in here.’ She laughed, waving at her face as if the temperature was also a factor. ‘Be back in a sec,’ she said, squeezing Jay’s arm and weaving away from us. We simply stood at the bar, watching on as the clique chatted around us. I felt hugely deflated, and very insignificant.
I now knew better than to make a judgement in the first few minutes of meeting someone; I mean, I had judged Jay and had since learned he wasn’t quite so bad after all. But I couldn’t help it; Leon Denero seemed like a complete douche.
‘Why is he wearing sunglasses? It’s night-time.’
A huge grin spread across my face as I peered up at Jay. ‘Must be all those paparazzi lightbulbs out front,’ I said.
