Rules of Seduction

by Jenna Mullins

  “What were you talking to Lawrence about?” he asks, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

  Picking my words carefully, I shrug. “Oh, nothing. We just ran into each other and he said hi.”

  “I see. I don’t really get that guy,” Camden admits, shaking his head a little too dramatically. He obviously wants me to push for details, so I oblige.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He just seems to be a publicist play thing. Like, he doesn’t have a mind of his own and he does whatever his people want. He takes the parts he’s told to take, he goes to the events he’s told to show up at, and he dates who he’s told will make him look best. And—”

  “Wait, he does what?!” I interrupt. “He dates whomever his publicist wants?”

  “Probably. That’s how this town runs, Dani. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you how it is. But wait until you hear about my day,” he groans.

  Camden starts talking about some meeting he had after we wrapped for the day, and I discreetly peek back over my shoulder to see what Tate is doing. I spot him disappearing back into the crowd, and I can’t help but feel a little disappointed that I didn’t get to finish talking to him, or “seducing” him. What did he want to ask me before Camden interrupted?

  I consider all the possibilities while Camden drones on about one of the guest actresses we have in this week’s episode. Maybe Tate wanted help with his cat thing? I’m more of a dog person, but I would still help out.

  Someone who wants to build a cat shelter can’t possibly be who Camden claims he is.

  Right?

  Then I see Tate again, talking with a pretty girl near the exit. I can’t see Tate’s face, but I see hers. She’s smiling up at him and laughing at whatever he is saying. She squeezes his arm—definite “body contact” according to Elise’s rules of seduction—and leads him to the back of the room.

  Who the hell is that? I should go investigate . . .

  “Dani?”

  Camden is tugging at the ends of my hair, trying to get my attention. I realize my hands are balled into fists. I unclench and flex my fingers.

  “Sorry, go on. I’m listening.” I look back quickly at Tate and the girl, but they’re already gone. Did they leave together? I want more than anything to go find them and see what they’re up to, but Camden is talking, and I’m supposed to be listening.

  “. . . so the studio is bugging me about her contract and I’m so over it,” Camden says as he finishes his story. I missed most of it, so I just nod and try to look sympathetic.

  “But whatever. I’m here now,” he tells me while squeezing me tighter. “And thanks again for your help today. You were amazing.”

  I blush at his comment, and try to thank him, but he’s already grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. I catch my foot on a table leg and stumble, but Camden is there to catch me before I totally bite it. He laughs and with a mischievous look in his eyes, abruptly picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

  “Camden!” I squeal. “Put me down!”

  “Never! I’m afraid you’ll fall and hurt that pretty face,” he shouts back.

  I giggle and pound lightly on his back, not really wanting to be put down. He jostles me around and twice pretends he’s going to put me down before quickly lifting me back up. I’m laughing and shrieking without abandon, and people are definitely staring at us, but I’m having too much fun to care.

  I realize I lost track of Brit and Hannah a while ago, and that I definitely won’t be able to find them while staring directly at Camden’s butt. And I really don’t want to pull my eyes from that point of view. It’s probably better that Brit has some one-on-one time with Hannah, anyway. I’m sure she’s not missing me.

  Finally, Camden and I squeeze our way right in front of the stage. With one nod to the security guard leaning against the guardrail, Camden and I are allowed to move past so we can stand in the empty area between the stage and the crowd. It’s usually reserved for security guards and photographers, but tonight, we can stand where we want. It’s just the two of us, separate from the mass of swaying bodies.

  This is what it’s like to have power in Hollywood, I realize. You get whatever you want, whenever you want it.

  And after my welcome to Los Angeles, it’s nice to be in the spotlight instead of cowering in the dark with the rest of the crowd.

  Camden spends the majority of the concert standing behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist, and we move to the beat together. At one point, he pushes my hair off the back of my neck and kisses the sensitive skin there, a move so intimate and sexy that I almost melt into a puddle on the floor, like a girl with ruby slippers just threw some water on me.

  The band starts their first encore just as Camden yells near my ear that he has to step out and make a phone call. He gives my waist a squeeze and then disappears out a side exit. I suddenly feel very alone at the front of the crowd, like everyone is staring at the back of my head and mocking the way I’m attempting to dance to the music.

  The Freewaves launch into yet another encore, and I don’t know whether to trail after Camden or wait for him here. He has yet to mention if we have plans after the concert, but that means I have some time to decide if I want to go home with him or not. My brain is begging me to have self-control, but other parts of my body think an overnight with Camden is just what I need right now. The thought terrifies me, and I’m suddenly craving a good dose of girl talk. I need to find Brit.

  I finally spot her and Hannah just as the band finishes their second encore, but they are both moving along with the sea of people trying to exit, and there’s no way to push through to her quite yet. Plus, she and Hannah are both talking animatedly with each other, arms waving around and eyes widening with each passing moment. I don’t really want to interrupt them, so I decide to just meet Brit outside later.

  I think I see Camden’s head bobbing in the back of the club, so I start to head in that direction. I’m fighting against a wave of bodies when an arm shoots out from the crowed and abruptly pulls me to the side.

  “Dani?”

  I’m a bit dizzy from the sudden change in direction, so it takes me a second to figure out who is talking to me. My eyes land on a handsome, light-skinned African-American man with big brown eyes towering over me. I squint in the dim light of the backstage area to make sure I’m not imagining who is standing in front of me.

  “Keith?”

  Elise’s ex-boyfriend. Right in front of me. Of course he’s here, the Freewaves is his band.

  “Dani! Wow, it’s good to see you,” he says before pulling me into a hug.

  I yank myself way. “Um, yeah. Wow. Keith. Hey,” I respond as flatly as I can manage. “Congrats on the band’s success. They’re good.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been working my ass off so it’s nice to see it’s paying off. And the guys are so great and just so damn talented. They deserve it so much.”

  “Yeah, the place is packed.”

  “I know! Isn’t it great?!” Keith gushes. “So much hard work finally paying off.”

  I take in Keith’s effortless enthusiasm and joyful expression and think about how the light behind Elise’s eyes went out as she talked about him at the ice cream place in Venice. Suddenly, I want to get away from him and talk to Elise.

  “Well, I gotta go, Keith. Take care,” I say with gritted teeth. It sounds more like I’m humming at him because my teeth are grinding against each other as I talk to him.

  “You gotta jet? That sucks,” Keith replies as he scratches the back of his head. “I was hoping to catch up with you a bit.”

  I take another step back, folding my arms over my chest. LA Dani can’t believe the balls of this guy.

  “Catch up? Well, let’s see. You broke my friend’s heart, got her out of the picture, and now you’re really focused on your career. Did I cover everything? Oh, wait. I forgot that you’re a cheating bastard, too,” I practically snarl.

  Keith gasps like I just punched him swiftly
in the gut. He shakes his head slowly. “Dani, c’mon. That’s not fair. Me and Elise . . .”

  “Elise and I,” I correct him, just to be an asshole. He doesn’t take the bait.

  “Me and Elise have a complicated history,” Keith begins. He puts both hands over his heart and leans closer to me.

  “Dani, listen . . .”

  “No. You really hurt her, Keith. I hope you know that,” I spit out. His eyes widen in protest.

  “Wait, just listen. She doesn’t know what happened,” Keith insists. I can see he’s starting to bunch the fabric of his shirt as he clutches his chest. I consider asking if he’s about to have a heart attack, but I’m too angry to joke around.

  “No, Elise does know what happened. She knows perfectly well what happened. You cheated on her.”

  “Dani, listen,” Keith says.

  “No, you listen. Elise is finally happy and over you. She’s in a great relationship and she doesn’t need you anymore. You messed up. Deal with it.”

  It feels good to tell off Keith, but his crestfallen expression gives me pause. His hands fall from his chest to his sides and hang limply, like he’s giving up the fight. I follow his gaze as it moves away from my own face and lowers to the ground. This tall and strong man has seemingly shrunk two feet. He finally speaks again, but he’s still staring at his own shoes.

  “That’s . . . um. That’s really good to hear. I’m glad she’s doing well. Can you do me a favor? Just tell her to give me a call sometime. I’d love to catch up. I miss her.”

  Before I can respond with some more choice words, Keith turns rapidly and walks quickly away. I watch him go and wonder if I should tell Elise I ran into the man who is the cause of this whole seduction scheme.

  I forget about finding Camden and just hightail it outside to meet up with Brit, whom I find alone leaning against the building.

  “Hey, there you are,” she says happily. And I know she’s not that happy to have found me. It must’ve been the work of Hannah. I give Brit a playful pinch on the arm.

  “Why are you so smiley? Did you have fun with future Mrs. Brit?”

  “Oh, geez. I hope she never, ever hears you say that. I wish I didn’t hear you say that. But yes, we did have fun and she just left. She told me to tell you good-bye and that it was nice meeting you.”

  “Well, what a polite and wonderful young lady,” I say in my most motherly tone. “She’s a keeper.”

  “Ugh. Stop. Time to go,” Brit insists while shoving me toward the parking lot.

  Walking to the car with a love-struck Brit puts me in a much better mood, so I decide not to say anything to Elise about running into Keith. It would just remind her of the pain she went through and it wouldn’t serve any purpose.

  Plus, seeing Keith gave me a much-needed reminder of why I’m testing Tate. I’m trying to protect my dear friend, and getting all wrapped up in Tate’s big smile and witty personality does not help out my friend.

  The late hour means no traffic on the 405, and I’m mesmerized at all the cars driving over thirty miles an hour on the freeway.

  “So, who was the guy you were talking to tonight?” Brit asks me as she maneuvers the food truck into a merge lane.

  “Oh, that was Camden. He’s a showrunner for Vamp Camp.”

  “No, the blonde guy. The one with the big smile who met Hannah.”

  “You mean the dopey smile,” I retort haughtily.

  “Whoa, where did that come from?” Brit asks. “What’s with the bad attitude?”

  “I’m . . . I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully.

  “Well, Hannah said he was really cool. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet him. Who is he?”

  “He’s my friend Elise’s boyfriend.”

  “Oh, cool. Maybe I’ll meet him next time.”

  “Yeah, I’m supposed to be hitting on him for her,” I blurt out. I want to gasp at the stupid mistake my overly tired brain just made, but I’m already yawning.

  Brit leans over and yanks off the music, and Janis Joplin’s voice gets cut off with a click.

  “You are doing what?”

  “It’s just this thing,” I explain lamely. “She isn’t sure if she trusts him and I told her I would kind of flirt with him to see if he did anything.”

  “Um, that sounds really destructive for everyone involved,” Brit warns. “Why are you doing that?”

  “Because she’s my friend,” I say defensively. “And because she sees a future with him and she wants to make sure that that future is secure. Is that so weird?”

  “It’s weird to ask a friend to try and get with your boyfriend just to trick him into cheating on you.”

  “That’s not what’s going on here, I promise. It’s . . . look, it’s complicated. I know what I’m doing, though, okay?”

  That was a lie. A big, fat lie. But Brit doesn’t argue back and we are silent for the next ten minutes. However, I can practically hear her brain screaming out reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this, so it’s not as quiet in the van as it could be.

  “Dani, can I just tell you real quickly what I think?” she finally asks as we reach our exit.

  I sigh helplessly. Here we go.

  “Sure. If you must.”

  “How is the whole seduction thing going?”

  Her question catches me off guard, so I have nothing to say but the absolute truth.

  “It’s not going very well.”

  “Is he totally hitting on you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “So, he is.”

  “No, I just can’t get a handle on him. I can’t tell if he’s being flirty or just nice. I think I saw him leave with a girl tonight, and some people are saying that Tate is a player.”

  “Do you believe them?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What does your gut tell you?”

  “That I shouldn’t have told you I was doing this,” I grumble. I can feel my eye start to twitch, which only happens when I’m stressed or nervous. Or both. I press my thumb over my twitching eyelid and sigh.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. My gut tells me that Tate is . . . a nice guy who might have some not-so-nice tendencies.”

  Brit doesn’t ask any follow-up questions, but she keeps glancing at me thoughtfully while she changes lanes to pass a slow-moving Mustang. I can feel her eyes keep darting to me, like she has something to say but is afraid to broach the subject.

  “Brit. Stop staring at me and just tell me what’s on your mind,” I finally say after the fourth time I notice her eyes have danced over to the passenger side of her truck.

  “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “No, please. Talk to me. Maybe it’ll help.”

  “I’m going to be honest, so please just take a moment to open your heart and mind and accept my words for what they are, okay?”

  I have no idea how to do that, so I just count to three and tell her I’m ready.

  “I think this is a horrible idea and you should stop immediately.”

  “Brit! C’mon . . .” I whine.

  “I knew you didn’t open your heart and mind to accept my words,” she singsongs. “I think this will hurt everyone, including you. Maybe especially you. And I don’t know Tate or Elise, but I know you. You are so much smarter than this. I think you should step back and let those two figure it out.”

  “I would love to, Brit. But every time I start to take that step . . .” I trail off, thinking about the pretty girl with Tate, his overbearing publicist, and the fact that sometimes Tate is so smooth I want to call him “slippery.”

  “What? What’s stopping you?” Brit asks, this time more concerned and less lecture-driven.

  “I just don’t one hundred percent trust him. I think there is something I need to figure out. And it may be nothing, and if it is, then I can tell Elise and potentially keep my best friend from getting her heart smashed. And if it is nothing, then I’ve still performed a favor for that same friend,” I reason
. I realize I’m trying to convince myself as much as Brit. I just have one more thing to say to myself.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  Brit doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the drive home, but the silence isn’t awkward or hostile, though it’s not exactly comfortable, either. When we pull into our parking spot back at the apartment, Brit throws the car in park and turns toward me. I unfasten my seatbelt and start to scoot out of my seat, but she reaches across the dashboard and grips my shoulder.

  “I still think this whole scheme is a bad idea, but I understand you want to protect your friend. And I hope everything works out in the end,” she says. “I’m here for you if you ever feel like you need to stop or want to talk about it. But just know that if you ever do come to me for advice about this, the only thing I’ll say is: stop.”

  Brit looks sad when she says this, as if she knows that one day she will be begging me to stop. I sit up higher in my seat and try to smile reassuringly.

  “Thanks, Brit. Don’t worry. I got this.”

  When we get inside, I immediately put on my pajamas and pull out my laptop. Maybe I can get in a few words before I go to sleep. But my brain just won’t focus—I keep thinking about the concert and my run in with Keith. As soon as this seduction thing is done, we can all move on. Elise with Tate. Me with Camden.

  Camden. I completely forgot to say good-bye to him! I totally ditched him after running into Keith. That dude ruins everything.

  I quickly tap out a text to Camden to apologize.

  I’m sorry that I didn’t say goodbye. I ran into an old friend and lost track of time.

  It’s mostly the truth. A minute later my phone buzzes with a response.

  It’s fine, babe. I just wish we could have spent more time together.

  Soon.

  Not soon enough ;)

  I smile at his flirty response and try to imagine Camden actually winking. I look like a true idiot when I try it, but I bet Camden looks smooth as all hell. I allow myself a couple seconds of happy sighing because a man like Camden is interested in me, and then I get back to Tate-gate.

  I exit out of Tower and spend the next hour Googling Tate and watching clips from his old shows on YouTube. For research. I’m watching his Vamp Camp audition that someone pulled from the season one DVD special features when my phone vibrates again. It’s another text from Camden.