by M. L. Young
I thought about it the entire way home while I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel and listened to the radio. I pulled into my spot, seeing Malia’s car parked out front, and did the walk of shame into the townhouse, where she was eating her cereal.
“Back already?” she asked, as if it were five in the morning.
“I have class to get ready for,” I said as I set my things down.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Just my first relationship problem,” I said.
“Already?” she asked, as if she were in disbelief.
“He asked me to go to some red carpet event in some designer dress and I said no. I just think it’s too soon to be put into that situation,” I said.
“Into what situation?” she asked.
“Telling the world about me, about us. I don’t know, I know I’m being irrational, but we just started dating and going from zero to sixty is kind of a lot. Maybe it would be different if I were an actress, but I’m not, I’m just a waitress and a college student. I don’t wear any other hats,” I said.
“I agree, kind of,” she said, before slurping the milk in the bottom of the bowl.
“Wait, you agree with me?” I asked, in total shock.
“I said kind of, and that’s a big kind of. You guys are kind of new, and you’re not exactly a woman who shares everything with the world. You’re more private, though you’re not a hermit, and I know that if you’d been dating for like four months and then he asked you to go, then you would. The reason I added the kind of, though, is because of what will happen, or could happen, with you not going,” she said.
“I don’t follow,” I said.
“Well, now Cash has to go to this event alone, right?” she asked.
“Right,” I said.
“Well, other women will be there, gorgeous actresses who will all look hot as hell in their sequin pageant dresses. They’ll talk to him, flirt with him, and likely try to get him back to their places that night. Hell, maybe they’ll even gang up and offer him a threesome, an orgy, or whatever else you can think of. He is an attractive, famous, and very popular movie star at the moment. With you there, you’d be able to keep them back like a circus trainer holding back a lion with a chair. Without you there, the chair is gone and the lionesses can pounce and get what they want,” she said without missing a beat.
I started to run the worst-case scenarios through my mind, thinking about hot young A-list celebrities hitting on him and touching his arm before taking selfies and trading numbers. Even though the thought was horrible and I wanted to bleach it from my mind, I had to trust him and trust that he was honest when he said I was different and that he really liked me and wanted to date me. If I doubted that now, why was I even with him? I needed a man I could trust, and this man in particular would have to kiss other women in movies and take pictures with them on the red carpets. I needed to believe that all that was just work stuff.
“It’ll be fine, Malia, I know it. He’s not like that, and he wouldn’t just leave me to do those things. He wouldn’t cheat on me, especially after ragging on women who only want to use him for sex and objects. That would be the most hypocritical thing for him to do,” I said.
“Hey, I’m not saying he’ll do those things, just that they’ll likely be presented to him. If I were in your position, I probably would’ve just sucked it up and gone, even though it’s kind of soon. Better to be safe than sorry,” she said before going upstairs to get changed.
I went up to my room and closed the door before pulling out my phone and sending him a quick text letting him know I had a great time last night and couldn’t wait to see him again. He wrote back, saying he missed me and was sorry for this morning being so abrupt and quick. He assured me that he wasn’t trying to push me out the door or anything.
I told him to text me later and to have a good day before he said the same back and I finished getting ready. Things would be okay.
Chapter Seventeen
Cash
“Cash! Over here!”
“Cash, give us some love!”
“Over here, Mr. Hollywood!”
The photographers yelled at me from all angles as I stood on the red carpet and faced their bright flashes. I stood on the red carpet alone, like I had many other times, my custom-made navy blue suit making my shoulders look as strong as a Viking’s.
Standing here without Jenna was hard, I had to admit, but I also understood where she was coming from. We’d talked in the two weeks since she told me she didn’t want to come, and she let me know that it was just a lot for her, and she didn’t want to hurt my life have the tabloids butt into our lives, especially if something happened between us. I hated that apocalypse talk, the “what if we ever break up” type of attitude, but she had a point there. Why introduce her already and have her life put out in the media if something could happen to us tomorrow? Then she’d have to live without her privacy.
Filming on the movie was close to finished, a few more weeks, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled with that. I loved being on set, and I loved the cast and crew, but I just really wanted to relax. Knowing I could hang out with Jenna whenever and have a sleepover and sleep in gave me chills and warmth at the same time.
I stood for a few more poses as the bright flashes started to make me see spots every time I blinked. I might as well have been staring into the sun.
I moved further down the carpet, getting to the end, as more and more stars behind me scooted closer to where I was. It was almost like a conveyor belt of famous people, all being guided down the line by their publicists and entourage as every magazine and newspaper in the world got their shots. Let’s just hope I didn’t have a booger hanging out of my nose like in my second grade school photos.
“Cash, darling, how are you?” Nigella Marston said as I walked up to say hello.
“Good evening, Nigella, I’m great. And you?” I asked.
“Wonderful, my husband is getting me some champagne. Are you alone? The handsome Cash Hawthorne without a date?” she asked.
Nigella was older, maybe in her fifties, though I guess that wasn’t all that old, but older than me! I’d done a cameo in her upcoming movie, and she really was a great woman, though sometimes nosy.
“Nope, no date tonight. I decided it was best to fly solo,” I said.
“You have to meet Melissa, the girl from that burlesque movie that came out a few months ago. I think she’s your type,” she said.
“Oh, no, I’m not interested right now, but thank you for thinking of me,” I said.
“Not interested? She had a swimsuit cover recently and is gorgeous with a capital G. How can you not be interested in gorgeous? Oh my god, you’re not gay, are you? Not that it’s a problem, I only socialize with them, but I just never pegged you as gay,” she said, winding herself.
“No, Nigella, I’m not gay,” I said, laughing. “I’m just seeing somebody right now and want to see where things go there.”
“And she didn’t come with you tonight?” she asked.
“We’re still fairly new and didn’t think it was good to just let the public know. You know how the tabloids are. Why cause her problems in case things don’t work out?” I asked.
“Has she done anything I’ve seen? I won’t tell anybody,” she said.
“She’s not in the business,” I said.
“What does she do?” she asked.
“She’s a student, but also a waitress. That’s how we met,” I said.
“Oh, the help. I once had an affair with a busboy—it was the hottest sex of my life, no lie. He did things to me that I had to go to confession for because I was afraid I’d go to hell. Good times,” she said, a reminiscent look on her face.
“Oh,” I said, as I looked around and wondered where in the hell her husband was so I could get away.
“Well, I must be going, darling. It was nice seeing you,” she said before doing air kisses and walking away.
I shook my he
ad, laughed a little, and walked up the steps towards the catering table, where tiny treats were to be had. I always noticed that about red carpet events in comparison to just about anything else. I didn’t know if it was because of dieting celebrities who needed to keep in shape for their roles, but everything was micro-sized. A slider was the size of a normal bite of any given cheeseburger, and the chefs really liked foam, which I thought looked like cat barf. I suppose I just wasn’t cultured enough yet.
“Cash!” I heard, before turning around.
“Julia, how are you?” I said, giving her a hug.
“It’s been like what, five months?” she asked.
“Something like that, yeah,” I said.
“Julia, we need you over here!” someone yelled.
“Shit, not more of that stuff. Here, let’s take a selfie. I’ll call you for lunch soon,” she said, whipping out her phone.
I scooted in, and just as we were in shot, she turned and kissed my cheek while simultaneously snapping the photo. “Love it,” she said before walking off to the person who called for her.
“Oh, um,” I mumbled before going back to the food.
I mingled a little bit, talking to whomever I knew and liked. I felt like a fish out of water. I didn’t stay too much longer, leaving after about an hour or two, and was driven home in a town car. It’s safe to say that red carpet events just weren’t my thing.
Chapter Eighteen
Jenna
Waiting tables was both the bane of my existence and the reason that I had one. Some tables were fine, with customers who were pleasant and cheerful. Anniversaries and first dates were usually the best, as both sets of people were hoping to impress the other, and therefore I never had any rudeness or problems with them. Everyone else, though, could go jump off a cliff because they only caused me headaches.
Still, waiting tables paid my bills, and some of those rude asshole customers left me large enough tips to pay a quarter of my rent for the month, so I made do, even if I was screaming on the inside.
I hadn’t worked in about five days, a more than welcome amount of time off, especially since I’d been trying to see Cash more often. With his limited schedule and amount of time to give to me, it sucked when one of those moments clashed with my work schedule. It made me wonder if I should become one of those sugar babies or whatever they were called so that I didn’t have to be here and could instead be out with him.
“Can you believe it?” I overheard Briana, a server, say.
“She’s so plastic,” Kaitlin replied.
“What’s going on?” I asked as they stood around the service station on their phones.
“This selfie was posted to Julia Pembleton’s Instagram account. Everyone is talking about it, saying that she and him are dating now. He can do so much better,” Briana said, showing me the screen.
The bright screen dug into my eyes while my pupils dilated and I was able to see the picture in the dark service station. It was Cash. He was with her, with Julia, and she was kissing him—albeit on the cheek, but still. Why would he let her do that?
“Where was this taken?” I asked nonchalantly.
“At some red carpet event recently, it looks like. The tabloids have called them the new ‘it’ couple, if you can believe that,” Kaitlin said.
“I can’t,” I replied, filling up a couple water glasses and taking them to one of my tables.
I felt kind of furious, and very much hurt. I thought Cash was different than that, I really did. Not only that, but if I’d sucked it up like Malia said then maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Why was I even blaming myself? He was the one who let her kiss him. I wouldn’t let some random guy kiss me and take pictures of it. I guess I thought he wanted something with me, and the one moment he was alone with another woman this happened.
I kept a smile on my face as I waited my tables and kept it happy for good tips. I waited all the while for a chance to text him, confront him, or whatever else I had to do to get answers. I wanted to text him then and there, behind the cover of the service station wall, but I didn’t for fear that he’d reply and we’d get into an argument while I was working. I didn’t need to start crying or get royally pissed, since I didn’t have millions in the bank like him and I actually needed this job to put food in my stomach. Boy, oh boy, was he going to hear about it, though.
•••
Once I got off I called Cash, asking him if I could come over and talk to him about something that was bothering me. He said yes, even though he sounded a bit tired, and I got into my car and screeched out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. I listened to heavy metal along the way, my blood pumping and my mind becoming more and more amped with each guitar solo, before I pulled up to his gate and rang the bell. The gate opened, and as I pulled in and put the car in park, he opened the front door and waited for me.
“Miss me that much?” he asked, smiling.
“Yeah,” I replied, kind of reserved.
“What’s up?” he asked as I walked inside and didn’t bother to go in for a kiss.
“I just saw something and heard of something that I think I need an explanation for,” I said, rummaging for my phone. “This.”
I put my phone up, showing him the picture, and I saw the look on his face before he rubbed his jaw slowly. “That’s not what it looks like,” he said, without much else to say.
“It isn’t? Because it does kind of look like what it looks like. It looks like some plastic bitch putting moves on you while you smile and enjoy it,” I said.
“Jenna, don’t be like that. She’s not a bad person,” he said.
“Wait, you’re defending her? Seriously? Instead of telling me what in the fuck is going on, you just defend her?” I asked, my blood pressure reaching critical mass.
“No, I’m not, I didn’t know she was going to kiss me. She said she wanted a selfie, I leaned in and smiled, and then she kissed my cheek while hitting the capture button. Do you honestly think I’d just publicly cheat on you if I ever were going to?” he asked.
“Well—” I said, before being cut off.
“No, you don’t think that, because you’re better than that. Listen, I know it looks bad, and I saw what the tabloids are saying, but it isn’t true. Those trash magazines are the last place you should ever go to for truthful journalism. I’m just disappointed that you’d think this poorly of me,” he said, walking over to his couch.
“Well, imagine being me, Cash. Imagine if you saw a bunch of pictures of random guys kissing me, or hanging around me, or whatever. I know you wouldn’t like it,” I said.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t, but I wouldn’t attack you about it. I’d just ask what it was all about, and hope that you were still into me,” he said.
“Okay, I was wrong to barge in here and yell at you. I can admit that,” I said, as I felt my once boiling blood pressure quickly go down. “I just don’t want to be cheated on again.”
“I didn’t know you had been. I’m sorry to hear that. You deserve better,” he said.
“And I do have better, but it’s still kind of hard, you know? I became so jaded over time because of the way men treated me, but I can’t put their problems and the things they did to me onto you. It’s not fair to you or our relationship. I’m sorry,” I said.
“You could always make it up to me,” he said.
“I just got off work and I’m all sweaty and gross,” I said.
“Not that,” he said, laughing. “I have a charity event coming up soon and could use a date.”
“But—” I said.
“Before you say no, hear me out. It’s not a red carpet, and there won’t be any fancy dresses. It’s a casual event, in casual clothes, and it’s for children’s cancer research. You’ll get to hang out with the kids, play games, carnival style, and help raise money for research. It’ll be a blast,” he said.
I thought about it, really thought about it, and wondered if it would be all that bad. It was a charity event, not a red carpe
t one, and I could keep him away from that bitch Julia if she decided to go. Plus it would be fun to help the kids and play games with them. I was pretty good at ring toss.
“I’ll go,” I said.
“You will?” he asked, perking up.
“But only if you promise you can win me a big stuffed animal,” I joked.
“Only the biggest for you,” he said.
“Then it’s a date,” I said, smiling.
He leaned in, kissing me softly on the lips, while my hand lingered on his and our fingers laced together. He wanted me to stay over, but I refused because of an early study group as well as some homework still left to do tonight, and instead gave him a barrage of kisses all over his face before he walked me out to my car and saw me off. At least a very negative situation turned into an incredibly positive one tonight. Maybe he was different than all the other guys I’d dated.
•••
“Put down the calculator for a few hours, Jenna. It’s girls’ night, you know, and we haven’t had one of those in months,” Malia said as she stood over me.
“But I have so much to do,” I said in a pouty voice.
“I don’t care, put it down. I want to hang out with you and actually be best friends. You know we’re best friends, right?” she asked.
“Yes, I know that,” I said.
“And best friends hang out and gossip and talk about stuff. With that being said, we’re going out,” she said.
“Fine, but only for a few hours,” I said reluctantly.
“Get dressed, we have dinner first,” she said before skipping off to her room.
Girls’ night used to be a staple in our household, usually once a week, though we’d weaned ourselves off it since school became more troublesome and we both had started dating people. Malia had just begun dating a guy, Ian, though that was so much in its infancy that I wouldn’t be surprised if it ended tomorrow. I texted Cash and told him I wouldn’t be able to video call tonight and that I was going out with Malia doing who knows what. He said he’d be around if I needed him, but to have fun and he’d talk to me later. My last boyfriend would’ve never let that happen. He was so controlling that I sometimes wondered if I should ask him if I could use the bathroom.
