I laugh, shaking my head, knowing full well who those journalists were. “Everyone was whispering when the red carpet list came out.”
“I can imagine so,” he says, cutting into a piece of breakfast sausage. “It’s a smack in the face. She knows it, you know it, and now, everyone else knows it.”
“I just . . .” I want to tell him that I didn’t mean for it to be like that, but I stop talking when Cassie returns.
“It took seven people to understand that I wanted wheat bread and not white,” she complains. I remain quiet while everyone around me eats, and then I’m summoned to go take a picture in the corner right in front of the big movie poster. I walk over to it with Cassie by my side. “This should last about two hours, give or take, and then you’re off till about three-ish, but we’ll need to go over your schedule for tomorrow.” I just nod at her and then shake the photographer’s hand.
“I’m Henrik, nice to meet you,” says the man with a camera hanging from his neck. “If you want to get right there on the white X in the front of the pictures, I will start.” I walk over to the middle and stand there while he takes my picture. I look over and see that Cassie is now speaking to Yamina and Yolanda.
“We are going to take a group shot,” Henrik says, and then he turns to look at Yamina and Yolanda. The two of them turn and start ushering the journalists toward me. The men wait for the women to walk ahead of them. I see Erin, Ella, and Evelyn come in first and two of them stand beside me, followed by Autumn and Kendall. I’m waiting for Jessica, but I don’t see her. I see Jim, Jonathan, Jack, and Peter come in and stand on the outside. Henrik comes over and starts moving people, pulling Ella, who glares at him, from my right and replacing her with Jack. He counts the heads and then turns to look at the girls. “There is one missing.”
“We are looking for her,” Yolanda says as Yamina turns around and walks quickly out of the conference hall.
“We can get one without her,” Cassie says to Yolanda. “We are on a schedule, right? Tyler isn’t going to be left waiting because one of the journalists is pouting.”
I look at Jack, who stands next to me, and he rolls his eyes. “She must either be really good at her job, or she gives you something on the side because, let me tell you, she’s a grade A bitch.” I laugh at him and look at Yolanda, whose phone starts ringing. She turns around, and then I see that Yamina is coming back into the room with Jessica next to her as she smiles at her.
“Sorry, folks,” she says, coming toward us. “I got a call.”
“Ah-ha, my beautiful Jessica,” Henrik says, going to her and kissing her on the cheeks. “So lovely to see you again.” He brings her over to us, holding her hand.
“I’m so sorry for keeping everyone waiting,” she says, looking at Henrik. “Where do you want me?”
He comes to us and moves Evelyn away from my other side, then gestures for Jessica to take that spot. He then moves Evelyn again, placing Jonathan next to Jessica. “Hey, good looking,” he says, winking at her. When I clear my throat, only Jonathan looks over at me.
“There we go,” Henrik says, holding up his hands and doing an L with his thumb and his forefinger. “I like it.” He moves back, bringing his camera to his eye. He starts taking pictures as we all hear the clicking. “Okay, what now?” he asks, looking toward Yamina and Yolanda.
“We have to take one-on-one shots for the junket and also the red carpet promo,” Yamina says and then looks down.
“Perfect,” Henrik says. “Who is first?” Everyone tries not to say anything, knowing that Jessica has been left out.
“I’m out,” Jessica says from beside me and then walks away. “See everyone tomorrow,” she says, turning to Jonathan. “Text me later and we will catch a bite.”
“We need the picture,” I tell Jessica, grabbing her hand before she walks away. She quickly pulls her arm away from me and finally looks at me. Then she looks at Yamina and Yolanda.
“Do we need a picture?” Jessica ignores me and my request, turning to ask Yamina and Yolanda. They look from one to the other, not sure what to say.
“Henrik.” I turn to him. “A picture with each journalist,” I tell him, and he just nods his head.
“Tyler,” Cassie says from beside them, “this is just wasting everyone’s time.”
“Then everyone needs to get in place,” I say, grabbing Jessica’s hand and pulling her to my side. Her soft hand flies away from mine, making me put my hand around her waist. Henrik starts talking before Jessica can fly away.
“Perfect,” he says. “Jessica, can you turn more toward him and maybe put your hand in your pocket?” She does as he says, and he starts snapping pictures.
“Jess,” I whisper to her, “I didn’t think they would.” She looks at me, her eyes clear with anger or sadness, I’m not sure, and Henrik snaps the last picture.
“We are done,” Henrik says, and she puts her head down and then walks away without saying a word. Ella is the next one, and she quickly makes her way over to me. I don’t have a chance to catch Jessica again. It’s another two hours before I’m finally making my way to my room.
“Tell Ryan that Jessica can have Paris,” I tell Cassie once we make it back into my suite. I look at her, and she crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me.
“Perhaps, I should point out all the times she tried to fuck you over?” she says. “The time she said you were in rehab, or the time she said you were fucking your co-star.”
“That one wasn’t exactly a lie,” I tell her, and she rolls her eyes.
“She made your mother cry twice.” She plays my mother card.
“I’m going to talk to her, one-on-one,” I tell Cassie, and she looks at me with her mouth open. “Call a truce of sorts. I mean, at least until we finish the tour.”
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll set up the meeting.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. Taking off my jacket, I toss it on the chair. “I’ll handle it. You two don’t exactly get along.”
“Because she’s a bitch,” she tells me, putting her hands on her hips. “Just remember that I told you so when she turns around and fucks you over.”
Chapter Eight
Jessica
Looks like this Hollywood power couple is headed to splitsville; sources close to both say it’s only going to get nasty!
“How did you know?” Jonathan asks from across the table. We are sitting in the bar area of the hotel. His dress shirt is rolled up at the sleeves to his elbow. Two buttons open at his neck as he peels the label from his beer.
I bring my glass of water to my lips and take a drink. It’s almost nine p.m. local time, and I feel like I’m wired. I’m tired, but after tossing and turning for two hours, I finally gave in and answered a text Jonathan had sent at six asking me to meet them at the hotel bar. So I threw on my favorite pair of torn jeans and matched it with a huge light gray V-neck long-sleeved knitted sweater. “You know you have to be a little bit more specific with that question, right?” I smile at him.
It’s just the two of us now. When I came down, everyone but the spearmint triplets were here. According to their social media, they were doing a movie night. The seven of us shared dinner and stories, but slowly but surely, everyone got up to go to bed, leaving just Jonathan and me. “That the model gave birth.”
I laugh now, looking down at my hands, my thumbs running up and down the glass. “You know I never reveal my sources,” I tell him, and he smiles at me. He’s really good looking—his brown hair combed to the side, his perfect white teeth, and his dark brown eyes. “It’s why I’m so successful and people trust me.”
He brings the bottle back to his lips. “You are like a vault.” He drags a long drink. “I’m sorry they left you off the list today.”
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s no secret that Tyler and I don’t like each other,” I say, hoping the way I look at him shows it didn’t bother me. Little do they know that the “phone call” I got that explained my absence was because I�
��d left the room as soon as the meeting was adjourned and called Stephanie as I walked to my room, begging her to let me come home and switch with someone else. She laughed and basically said to suck it up. I sat on my bed for a good twenty minutes—maybe even thirty or even an hour, I have no idea. I wasn’t even going to go back down until Yamina texted me to tell me pictures were being taken.
Yamina: WHERE ARE YOU? THE PHOTO OPS ARE NOW.
Yamina: THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
So I took a big breath, and I locked it down, applied a layer of lip gloss, and made my way back to the room. I made it there right when she was running out of the room to find me.
“I know it’s no secret,” he says, “but it was just a shitty thing to do.” I shake my head. “We should head to bed since the premiere is tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be a long, long night,” I tell him, getting up to grab my phone and key card. Heading toward the elevator, the two of us side by side, I press the button going up and turn to Jonathan, who smiles at me.
“Isn’t this cute?” I hear from behind me and turn to see Cassie smiling with Tyler next to her with his hands in his pockets, looking from Jonathan to me. “Are you guys the newest couple?” she says, and I look at her. She is dressed the same as she was before, except she traded up her shoes. “I think we got the scoop.”
“You caught us,” Jonathan says to her. “Guilty. You should call that tip in. Lucky for the two of us, we are essentially nobodies, so no breaking news here.” He jokes with her, and I remain quiet. When the elevator finally arrives, we all awkwardly stand in it, and no one says anything.
I’m the first to get out. “Night, everyone,” I say over my shoulder. I chance a glance at Tyler but regret it the moment I do because he’s staring at me, wearing no expression whatsoever. I turn and continue walking to my room. I kick off my ballerina shoes and shimmy out of my jeans, tossing them on the chair with the sweater and bra. I climb into the bed, then turn off the lights, and I finally drift off to sleep, ending a day that I’d just as soon forget.
When my alarm rings at six a.m., I’m face down on the bed in a legit starfish position. I roll to the side and turn the alarm off. I grab the phone and scroll through the headlines—a breakup, a DUI, a fight. Looks like everything is alive and well back home. Getting my ass in gear, I put on my workout clothes and grab a bottle of water, then make my way to the gym again. Walking in, I’m not sure what I expect to see, but Tyler going full force on the treadmill is definitely not it. He is wearing his basketball shorts today and a sleeveless shirt. His television is off while he runs. When you run that fast, you are either trying to outrun your demons or run toward them. In Tyler’s case, I’m not sure which is the case.
“Good morning,” I say softly, and he just looks ahead, not saying anything, and it’s completely fine. More than fine, actually. Making small talk when I’m here just to get my workout in can be exhausting. I turn on the television and then plug in my earbuds. I turn it to CNN and watch it for a bit while I warm up. I then turn it to Dateline. I’m not even paying attention to Tyler while I watch the episode. I finish the hour-long episode and then slow my pace. Taking my earbuds out, I grab my water bottle, bringing it to my mouth.
“So where is the boyfriend?” I hear him gruff from next to me. I look over at him, my jog slowing to speed walking.
“Are you talking to me?” Panting while I get my breathing under control, I look around to see if maybe someone else snuck in while I was running on the treadmill, but the room is empty except for us. “Boyfriend?”
“You and Jonathan, is it still hush-hush?” He finally looks over at me, and he looks angry.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I tell him the truth. “Where is your juicer girl?” I look at my watch. “She’s late.”
“Cassie is my assistant,” he tells me. Lowering his speed, he slows his run to a brisk walk.
“I know. I have to say I’m a little surprised that she isn’t here to dab the sweat off your forehead. Cheering you on.” I turn off the machine and turn away from his stare as I grab my water bottle and head in the direction of the door.
“I changed the list,” he says when my hand pulls open the door, and I stop in my tracks. My heart starts to speed up faster than when I was running. I turn and see that he has taken his shirt off. He stands there on the treadmill with his shorts hanging low on his hips and his six-pack on full display. His chest wide and tanned, glistening with the perspiration that somehow has my own mouth watering as he tosses his shirt over one shoulder. “I didn’t know they were announcing it like that.”
Oh, fuck me. My hand lets go of the handle, and I turn to look back at him, crossing my arms across my chest. “You mean you didn’t think you would feel guilty after tossing me under the bus in a public way, so now you’re throwing a bone my way.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to answer, and he just glares at me. “What?” I ask him, now uncrossing my arms and walking toward him. “What you mean is that you weren’t expecting to feel like shit? You just figured fuck her, she deserves it.” Shaking my head, I mumble, “Unbelievable.”
“I . . .” he starts to say, and then I hold up my hand to stop him.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You want me here as much as I want to be here.” I put my hand on my hips. “Now it’s not just the two of us who know that it’s a well-documented thing.”
“I didn’t want you here,” he says, grabbing a water bottle and twisting off the cap, “not in the least, but you’re here, and we need to make the best of it.”
“What the heck does that mean?” I ask him, my hands getting a touch clammy.
He stops drinking his water and looks at me, his eyes changing color again. They are gorgeous, and that irritates me to no avail. “We call a truce of sorts.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “Meaning?” I ask, listening to my heart speed up just a tad more, the sound becoming a bit louder in my ears.
“Meaning we are stuck with each other for the month, so why don’t we just call a truce? I won’t—” he says, and I speak up, interrupting whatever bullshit was about to come out of that gorgeous mouth.
“You won’t be an asshole, and I won’t be a bitch.” I fill it in for him, and he just smiles.
“More or less,” he says, drinking more water. “If you have a story or shit comes up during this month and it’s about me, I ask that you ask me about it before printing it,” he says. “There will be nothing that could come up, but if something did come up, you ask me first.”
“What about questions during interviews?” I ask him, trying to hide my smile. I had already agreed to play nice—well, I promised Stephanie—but the jury was still out.
“Seriously, Jessica,” he says, putting his hands on his hips and looking up at the ceiling. I finally burst out laughing, and his head snaps back down to look at me.
“Fine. Truce,” I say, and his smirk turns into a huge smile. I shake my head and turn around to head out the door.
“Shouldn’t we shake hands or something?” he asks me, and I stop halfway out the door to turn to look at him.
“You’re sweaty as shit and so am I. How about we shake later?” I tell him and walk away from him to the elevator. My head comes up when I hear the elevator ding. The door opens, and Cassie is there in workout clothes with a water bottle under her arm while she texts. She looks up and is surprised when she sees me, but I don’t have a chance to say anything because Tyler is there at my back, putting his hand out to stop the door from closing.
“I thought we were working out this morning,” Cassie says to him. “You said we would start at seven thirty.”
“Yeah, I got up earlier,” he says, now trying to get into the elevator around me, and I step to the other side, sneaking in. “You do your workout and then text me.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” she says, looking at him and then turning to glare at me.
“I’m good, Cassie, stop worrying
about me,” he tells her and smiles at her. “Press tour starts at two, right? Text me the location and I will meet you there.”
“Sure thing,” she says, turning to walk away from the elevator, and he presses his floor, which is, no surprise, just one floor down.
“See you later, Jessica,” he says when he gets out. I don’t have a chance to answer because I’m still not sure what the fuck just happened, and I’m not really sure if I agreed to whatever it is we are doing.
Chapter Nine
Tyler
A pop star rushed to the hospital from an apparent accidental overdose. Sources are saying she partied way into the night.
“We have five rooms set up, and the reporters will be moving around,” Cassie tells me while I shrug on my jacket.
“Why do I have to wear a suit jacket with jeans?” I ask her and then shrug the jacket off, tossing it on the table. She leans over and grabs it.
“I’ll bring it for you,” she says. “You have interviews for three hours, then you have a wardrobe change, and then we head out to the premiere.” She gets up and tucks her chair back under the table, then comes to stand near me. “I will have your stuff packed up by the time you get back from the premiere.” I nod my head and turn to walk out of the room, tucking my phone in my back pocket. “The flight takes off tomorrow at ten a.m. Flight is about two hours, give or take,” she says, and I press the button, waiting for the elevator. “We have to meet the press from four to six.”
When I step into the elevator, Cassie hasn’t stopped talking as she looks at her phone. “Then dinner if you want. If not, I can cancel it. I did also send out a request to have a treadmill brought to your room.”
“What?” I look at her confused as the elevator brings us to the floor where the press tour is going to happen.
Hollywood Playboy Page 6
