All-American Princess (The Glitterati Files Book 1)

by Maggie Dallen

“Because you are a mean girl?”

  “Because I own mean girls,” she said with a funny little drawl. Her smile broadened, and for a second, I couldn’t look away because it was genuine. I was starting to realize, genuine emotions of any kind from this girl were what made her so intriguing. These glimpses of somebody real were what had kept me up at night and what had me thinking about her at the most inappropriate times this past weekend. Those glimpses made me want to see more, to peel back her lovely, perfect, refined layers to see the heart that beat underneath.

  But then, just as quickly as it appeared, her grin vanished, replaced by a look of boredom. “Are you going to show me where AP English is or not?”

  I sighed and turned to lead the way again. Truth was the classroom she was headed to was just around the corner. I could have told her where to go and sent her on her way. But I didn’t.

  Instead, I walked with her, and I felt the stares. I heard the whispers. And despite every intention not to… I felt sympathy toward this girl. She might’ve worn her haughty princess façade like a shield, but I’d seen the chinks in that armor. Underneath it all, she was a girl. Maybe not normal but not untouchable like she’d have me believe.

  Like she’d have us all believe.

  And whether I wanted to or not, I found myself feeling protective of this spoiled brat with her there-and-gone smiles and her sexy legs.

  “A word of advice?” I said as I paused in front of her classroom door. We both spotted Brandon sitting front and center before she turned to face me.

  “I don’t suppose you’re about to give me advice on winning over Brandon.”

  I let out a huff of laughter. “Hardly. If anything, I’ll be in his ear reminding him to steer clear of you.”

  She arched one brow. “Well, I guess I should thank you for being honest.” Tilting her head to the side, she shifted the books in her arms. “So, what are your wise words of wisdom about then?”

  “Fitting in,” I said. “Maybe making friends.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I have no desire to do either.”

  Now, it was my turn to raise my brows in disbelief. “Not even if it helps you to earn back Brandon’s trust?”

  Her look of disgust faded, and her gaze turned scheming. “Okay, fine. What’s your advice?” She jabbed a finger into my chest. “And if you even think of telling me I need to swap out my designer clothes for some nasty Walmart rags, you can think again.”

  I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Play nice.”

  Her instant frown had me stifling a laugh.

  “Also not going to happen,” she said.

  “You expect to win Brandon over by being a brat?”

  “No, I expect to win him over with logic.” Her response was instant, and now it was my turn to frown.

  “What does that mean?”

  Her eyes darted over my features, studying me. She seemed to come to a decision, and she shifted the books in her arms once more. “What I’m offering Brandon,” she said slowly. “It’s a good opportunity. It could be exactly what he needs.”

  I glanced over at Brandon and scoffed. “So… what? There’s nothing in it for you? You’re just here out of the goodness of your heart?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not. I have my own reasons for wanting Brandon to come home with me.” Her lips quirked up seductively. “I have big plans for us.”

  Us. The word made my stomach clench, and the way she smiled made me want to grab her, pull her close, and kiss her until she stopped thinking about Brandon in that way. I wanted to chase away all thoughts of my friend that could make her smile like that. I shoved that thought aside and focused on her words. “So, you admit it,” I said. “Your motives for taking Brandon with you are selfish.”

  She narrowed her eyes a bit, but she didn’t look offended. She looked like she was studying me, reading what was going on behind my eyes. “Maybe my reasons are partially selfish,” she said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this could be a great opportunity for Brandon. This move could be the best thing that’s ever happened to him and to his family. So really…” She tilted her head to the side, and her eyes locked on mine. “Maybe it’s time to consider whether you’re the one who’s being selfish.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but I wasn’t quick enough. I watched that short skirt of hers twirl, revealing the most gorgeous thighs known to man. Then that perfect ass sashayed as she strutted into the classroom and sank into the seat beside Brandon.

  The second bell rang, and I cursed under my breath.

  Thanks to the frustratingly sexy ice princess, I was going to be late for my first class on the first day of senior year.

  But it wasn’t just that bugging me. It was her last statement about Brandon. About me.

  I’d been looking out for Brandon for so long, I wasn’t sure if he still needed me or if I wasn’t ready to lose him.

  Either way, her words stuck with me…

  And so did the memory of that ass.

  Twelve

  Lila

  Two weeks. Two weeks of Hell on Earth and what did I have to show for it?

  Nothing.

  Well, an A+ average thanks to the less challenging course load and an ever-dwindling amount of texts and calls from my friends back home.

  Out of sight, out of mind, it seemed.

  I prodded at the greasy slab of pizza on my lunch tray. Let’s not forget the ten pounds I’d lost since moving to Hell. Not in a good ‘I’ve just done a fab juice cleanse’ way. Rather in the ‘all of the food here tasted like sponge or a grease trap’ kind of way.

  Stellar cuisine was hardly a selling point for Pinedale, Montana.

  What was a selling point? I glanced around at the cliques sitting and gossiping at their tables. I couldn’t honestly say. I was stuck in a nightmare. Worse, it was a repetitive, boring nightmare interspersed with check-in calls from Daddy that took it from boring to tense and upped my desire to get the hell out of Dodge before Daddy could make me leave.

  But the problem was I was no closer to convincing Brandon than when I’d first started.

  Actually, I was further away from it.

  At least on that first day, I’d caught Brandon’s eye. He’d looked at me with a smile and had laughed and talked easily. These past two weeks had been a humiliating, excruciating exercise in being rejected. He wasn’t rude about it—nowhere near as rude as Jack, who managed to tell me in no uncertain terms every single day that I had no place here.

  He was my biggest cockblock in trying to get to Brandon. He seemed to have a sixth sense for when I was about to strike, and he stopped me every time. The guy watched me like a hawk.

  Fine. Truth be told, maybe I watched him too. I had yet to forget about that kiss, and two weeks later, I still found myself fantasizing about it. Worse, my thoughts kept drifting back to that kiss along with nauseatingly fanciful what ifs. What if we hadn’t been interrupted? What if I hadn’t been here for Brandon?

  But it was pointless to consider. As Tess reminded me daily—I had one job to do, and I aimed to do it.

  I looked over to see if my target had entered the cafeteria yet. There he was… with Amber. Like always. The girl was irritatingly close to him. She was cockblock number two. Jack had lunch at a different time than the rest of us, but when Jack wasn’t around, Amber was there, stuck to Brandon’s side like glue. How was I supposed to get all flirty with Brandon when she was up in his business every second of the day?

  I saw her look in my direction, and I cringed inwardly. Sure enough, her bubbly grin faded into something far more annoying.

  Pity.

  Ugh. Here we go. I shoved my tray away as she walked over. I knew what was coming. Just like how every day, Jack sought me out to give me crap—what are you still doing here? Can’t you take a hint? He’s not interested—Amber had been coming up to me every day to—ugh, barf—befriend me.

  At least, that was what I assumed she was doing. She was the good cop to Jack’
s bad, and she was so good it was revolting. She kept going out of her way to be nice to me, as if to prove that all these backwards hillbillies weren’t as bad as I might think.

  They were. Trust me, they were.

  They might not have been wearing the Gucci and the Prada, but I knew these people. They were no different from the snobs that graced the halls of Beverly Hills Prep. They just had a different bar for casting judgement.

  These kids might not have been bragging about how they were friends with the band playing on the radio, but they judged you on whether the music you listened to was mainstream or not. Pop and country were in, apparently, but indie was out.

  A girl might not have been mocked for who designed the shoes she wore, but what type was another matter. Cowboy boots were a win, but Louboutins? Those were laughable.

  Don’t believe the hype, people. Snobbery was just as prevalent in middle America as it was on the West Coast—and the East Coast, for that matter. They just had different standards.

  Anyway, all this was to say that Amber was a freakin’ nightmare within my nightmare. So sweet, so friendly, so unerringly nice.

  God help me.

  She headed my way now, and I braced for it—the inane questions about how my first weeks at school were going, the gentle encouragement to come and join her and her friends at whatever lame girls’ night they were planning.

  Slumber parties. I swear to God, she invited me to a slumber party last weekend.

  Kill me now.

  I said no, of course. Nicely. Well, sort of nicely. I didn’t tell her to get bent, and I took that as a win.

  See, Jack? I can play nice.

  I made a mental note to tell him that. He’d be so proud. The thought of our next bickering match had me smiling as Amber approached, and I was too slow to squelch it, so her smile grew even bigger. Worse, her eyes grew wide with excitement. This was what happened when you encouraged the natives. It was like feeding the squirrels in Central Park—you couldn’t give them ideas or the next thing you know, you’ll be surrounded by excitable, annoying pests.

  I tried to steel my features into an icy glare in the hopes that she might be deterred.

  Abort, abort. You haven’t won, you silly girl. I still hate you.

  It didn’t work. She stopped next to my table where I sat alone, and then she preceded to surprise the hell out of me. “Do you want to come join us?”

  I blinked up at her. Amber ate lunch with Brandon every day. Some of her other friends typically joined them, but Brandon was always there. While she’d been unfailingly nice to me, she hadn’t broken whatever understanding she had with Jack that made me persona non grata around Brandon. Honestly, I found their behavior annoying on Brandon’s behalf. They treated him like some sort of child. Like he couldn’t handle himself. Like he might cave and get accidentally torn away to Los Angeles just by being in close proximity to me.

  She widened her eyes expectantly, and I fought paranoia. What’s the catch?

  “Uh, yeah,” I said. “That would be great.”

  I picked up my tray of garbage and followed Little Miss Sunshine across the cafeteria to the table where Brandon sat, along with a handful of pretty girls. I recognized some of them, but I’d never gone out of my way to learn their names.

  I didn’t make an attempt now either. They gave me wary looks as I slid into the seat beside Brandon, and I ignored them outright.

  “So,” I said. “You’re speaking to me now.”

  Brandon stared down at his plate, most likely embarrassed that I’d called him out on it. He’d been civil but distant whenever I approached him. For weeks now, I’d been getting the polite cold shoulder—a feat only a good guy like Brandon could pull off.

  He looked up from his plate and gave me a small smile. “This was Amber’s idea.” He nodded toward where she watched over us like a worried mother hen. “She felt sorry for you.”

  I pressed my lips together. Awesome. Cindy Lou Who felt sorry for me. That was exactly what I was hoping to hear. I stole one of the apple slices from his plate. Apparently, he brought his own lunch, and right about now, I needed all the sustenance I could get. “Still playing hard to get?”

  He fought a smile and lost.

  Holy crap, no wonder my dad wanted him so badly. This close, I was reminded all over again of the close resemblance he bore to his father—the same classic movie star good looks. The guy was beyond handsome, and the way he looked at me now with the sexy, knowing grin? Yeah, I could definitely see the attraction.

  Just like that, I had daydreams flitting through my mind about the two of us out on the town in Hollywood. Of the paparazzi following us, of my father proudly presenting us to the rest of the cast, of our cute couple photo gracing the cover of People magazine.

  Then he sighed, and the sound dashed the daydreams. “Look,” he said. “I’m glad Amber brought you over here.” He brushed crumbs off his hands and turned to face me. “We should talk.”

  I nodded. “Talking, sure. I can do that.” Although, from the regretful way he looked at me, I thought I knew what he was going to say.

  My stomach plummeted. I mean, on one hand, I wanted this nightmare purgatory to be over, and if he outright refused me once and for all, I’d be done. But if I went home emptyhanded… well, then I’d truly be done. Like, finished.

  “Please, don’t say no.” I surprised myself with the pleading in my tone.

  His eyes widened a bit, and I even saw a flash of pity, but he shook his head sadly. “Look, I appreciate the offer. I really do. But—”

  “But what?” I reached for his hand. “Brandon, listen to me. No one is asking for a lifetime commitment. They’re not even asking for a commitment at all. All I need is for you to come to Los Angeles with me and meet with my father and some of the other executives.”

  He met my gaze, and his was filled with disbelief. “That’s it?”

  I nodded. Not quite able to voice that. It was the first step. If I could get him there, my father would be temporarily assuaged. If I could get him there, I could tempt him with all the things he could have if he signed on the dotted line.

  He could have it all. Fame. Money. Power.

  Everything I wanted. Everything I needed. He could snare it all—for himself and for me.

  He shook his head, and the moment was nearly lost. “My mother would never go for it. It would kill her if I went to Hollywood.”

  His mother. I’d suspected that was the holdup. I knew it, actually. But he needed the money—that much I also knew. I licked my lips. Tess and I had done our due diligence these past two weeks. Tess had torn apart his financial records with help from Daddy’s mysterious sources while I’d done some digging of my own into his father’s life in L.A.

  Jack’s voice had haunted me for weeks. Do you have any idea what your father did to him? To his family?

  I hadn’t. I mean, not really. All I’d known was that there had been tension between my father and Brandon’s, but I’d been too young to know anything else. Luckily, I had friends in high places. Friends who knew all the gossip and who lived to tell.

  Okay, not friends, necessarily.

  I had my mother.

  I’d called in a favor one night, plying her over the phone, letting her talk on and on about her new boyfriend, all about the guest house they were building. I even let her tell me how much she missed me without laughing.

  Basically, I played the role of dutiful daughter, and quite frankly, I deserved an Academy Award. But it had been worth it. I’d waited until she’d finished her second glass of wine before asking for the sordid details.

  She’d still been married to my father at the time of the show and of Frank MacMillan’s death.

  If anyone knew what Daddy had done, it would be her.

  She knew. Oh, did she know.

  “I know why you don’t want to go to Hollywood,” I said. “I know why you don’t want anything to do with my father, and I can’t blame you.”

  He stared
at me, his eyes narrowing. “What do you think you know?”

  I looked around, but no one was listening to us. Amber was casting worried looks, but she was too far away to hear.

  I thought of my options. I could mention the fact that his mother had gambled their money away, but something told me if money hadn’t worked the first time, it wouldn’t work now.

  No, he needed the money, but something was holding him back.

  Someone.

  I could practically hear Daddy’s voice ringing in my ears. I had to take her out of the equation. I took Brandon’s hand in mine, and he didn’t try to pull away. “Maybe we should talk somewhere else.”

  A flicker of fear crossed his eyes, but he nodded, and we headed out into the relatively quiet hallway. Amber and her friends watched us go, and I caught his football buddies at another table watching us too, but I didn’t pay them any attention.

  My gut churned with what I had to do.

  I couldn’t quite meet his eyes at first when he turned to face me in the hallway. “What do you think you know?”

  His voice was quiet. Firm. For a moment, when I looked up at him, I had a vivid memory of staring up at his father just like this. He’d had Brandon’s same calm quiet confidence. This gentleness that tempered the rugged male quality and made him something special. Something extraordinary. This guy right here would be just as beloved as his father.

  He’ll also be eaten alive like his father.

  That was Jack’s snarky voice in my head, the argumentative voice of reason that I’d heard every day lately, at every turn.

  I ignored it.

  Placing a hand on Brandon’s arm, I gave him my best sympathetic look. “I get it, Brandon. I’d have a hard time going back to L.A. too, if my family’s history there was so… complicated.”

  His eyes narrowed. He was hooked.

  I swallowed down the guilt. It had to be done. Besides, secrets were the real devil here, not me. “I know about your mother,” I said.

  He stiffened, and I almost lost my nerve.

  “I know about your mom and… and my dad.”

  Surprise had his nostrils flaring, but his jaw clenched shut.