With this kind of traffic, she might be able to pay the month’s mortgage in a single day of photos.
Granted, she still had to find the time to sit down and do finances …
By the time Jameson arrived nearly forty-five minutes later, every table was full, waiting for his arrival, which she’d announced in advance as the line filed in. Word spread quickly and organically through the waiting customers.
Jessica had instructed Jameson to come in through the back, and when he stepped out of the kitchen, high-pitched cheers echoed painfully off the walls.
Being the genius at this that he was, he waved at the crowd but made straight for Jessica. She couldn’t help but grin at the way he radiated warmth and gratitude and—
He grabbed her, pulled her close and asked quietly, “Ready to make headlines?”
“Huh?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Then he wrapped a strong arm around her, leaning her back and kissing her straight on the mouth.
She wondered if her hearing would ever recover from the sonic blast of squeals. Or if her stomach would ever lower from her throat.
Too absorbed in her own shock, she couldn’t have said how the kiss was, even seconds afterward. Her mind went blank, trying to catch up to the fact that Jameson had just kissed her in public.
You’re welcome, fourteen-year-old me.
However, Wendy was right: they had little to no chemistry, but chemistry be damned! A smoking hot movie star had just kissed her in a crowded room like he meant it. There didn’t need to be genuine fireworks for her to get high off that rush of social power.
It was imperative that she came up for air grinning. Otherwise, they’d make headlines all right, but it would be more about sexual assault than a new out-in-the-open romance.
However, she found that it wasn’t all that difficult to smile afterward. She even suspected both sides of her face were on board. She locked onto Jameson’s eyes, as he stared back into hers and she thought this was quite a fun game they were playing. It was reminiscent of the one she’d played with Quentin in high school to get back at Greg Burns, only this time it was with a movie star and there was no revenge motive.
She knew by his sly grin that this was a game for him, too, and one he’d been playing most of his life.
He turned to the predominantly female crowd and said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t hog her all to myself.” He grabbed a cookie from the display case with his bare hands, causing Jessica to cringe, though she managed to refrain from saying anything about health code, then he held it up, showing her image to the crowd. “Who else wants a piece of her?”
Judging by the roaring laughter, you’d have thought he’d said something genuinely clever.
He split the cookie in half, took a large bite out of it and nodded his approval animatedly before handing her the other half.
It was then that she understood without a doubt: she might be the boss, but Jameson had been in charge the second he’d stepped out of the kitchen and onto his stage. All she could do was laugh along with the crowd and take a bite of the damn cookie.
Jameson at his most magnetic was dangerous.
She was glad he was on her team.
The morning went by in a flash, and, while she knew it could never be, she wished she could hire Jameson full-time.
Not because he was good at the job. In fact, he was remarkably terrible at it. He couldn’t remember a single order long enough to fetch it from the case, and as a result, kept bringing back the wrong items.
But he knew how to play it off while also convincing the customer that it was what she wanted all along, and after two hours of it, Jessica noticed a trend. He kept bringing back more expensive items. Not every time. But when there was a price difference, the item they received was always the more expensive of the two. And when there wasn’t a price difference, say a chocolate chunk cookie instead of an oatmeal raisin, the item he replaced the original with always had more sugar.
He was an evil genius, giving people what they wanted rather than what they claimed they wanted, indulging them in a small way each time to ensure their experience was as epicurean as possible. By mid-morning, she’d had to rush through batches of the sugary items after all, Monday resolutions be damned.
The line moved slowly with so few people passing up the chance for a picture with the celebrities. Not singular. Plural. In the pit of her stomach, Jessica had feared that a special request would be made for a picture with Jameson only, that having her in it would somehow ruin the viral potential of the image. But no one asked for that. No one even so much as hinted at it by looking unhappy when she squeezed in on one side of them or by handing the camera to Jessica to take the picture.
After all these years of a hit-or-miss celebrity status, where she never knew if people would recognize her, and when they did, if they would want to, say, crucify her, there was no ambiguity. This was her bakery, the House of Jessica, and she was apparently dating Jameson Fractal, and everyone she had encountered all day had been thrilled with her. Some even said they wished they could be friends with her.
Granted, most of those folks had been staring dreamily at Jameson as they said it, and she suspected they were scheming up some usurping scenario.
Once the lunch crowd died down, Jessica set out a fresh plate of cookies that she miracled for the crowd (those watching were freshly impressed) and told the remaining customers to help themselves to it. Then she put up a sign that the cafe was closed for the next fifteen minutes. She caught Jameson’s eye where he leaned over a table, chatting with a young couple, smartly giving most of his attention to the boyfriend so as not to spark jealousy. She nodded for him to follow her into the back, and he did.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Famished.”
She sat at the small table in the corner and gestured at the other chair. She already had a half dozen kosher pigs-in-a-blanket on a plate in the middle, and he dove right in. “You are really something else,” she said.
He grinned. “Hope you didn’t mind the entrance.”
“You kidding? It’s like you belong in Hollywood or something.”
He shrugged, feigning modesty. “You can tell?” He dropped the cute act. “I just mean I didn’t plan it. I walked out there, felt what the crowd was wondering about us, and decided to give them a little something to wake them up first thing in the morning. It wasn’t until after that it occurred to me I’d basically assaulted you.”
Jessica laughed. “I’m fine. As far as assaults go, that was among my favorite.”
He wagged a roll at her. “You know, I forget that you’re from this completely different life. Yeah, you were awkward and terrible with fans at first, but I guess I’ve always seen you as a celebrity from the moment I heard about you and just knew what people said was true.”
“Which people?”
“Not Jimmy Dean.”
“Great. Go on.”
“I forget that you had a normal upbringing in a small town—”
“Not normal.”
He conceded the point with a nod. “You’re not from Hollywood, is what I mean. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if I ever do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, will you let me know?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I mean, the kiss … I can’t tell you how many fake girlfriends I’ve had to pull a stunt like that with before. But you’ve gotten to live this real, genuine life where you don’t have to put on a show all the time.”
She laughed. “First of all, I wish someone had taught me to put on a show as well as you do. I might not have been bested by Jimmy fucking Dean over and over again that way. But also, who says you’re my first fake boyfriend?” She raised her chin as a challenge and Jameson cackled.
“What?” he shouted. Then his grin wilted. “Wait, was Chris just a—”
“No, no,” she said, her stomach clenching at the mention of him. “But my friend Quentin who you met this weekend?” She let the sentence h
ang and Jameson picked up on it immediately.
“Oh, I have to hear this story. And why was he just a fake boyfriend? You should have gone for it. Quentin’s a catch.”
She paused to consider it. “Yeah, I suppose so. I guess I was too focused on revenge to notice it. And then I noticed Chris.”
As she launched into her high school plot to make Greg Burns seethe with jealousy, she watched Jameson’s reactions closely and noticed a new depth to them. There was some sort of glisten, an unselfconsciousness about him that told her this wasn’t a show for anyone’s benefit; he was delighting in this simple and stupid tale of high school drama.
“How long have you been acting?” she said.
“Started in commercials when I was eight. Was in a show on the Kiddo Network from ten to fifteen, at which point I aged out. Took a couple years off to knock out four years of high school in two through distance learning. No one wanted to hire me until they saw how puberty turned out for me, then at seventeen I started landing roles in movies again, and it’s pretty much been nonstop since.
“But go back to your story. When did you decide to end it with Quentin?”
By the time she finished, all she could think about was Chris—their first kiss against his truck, the way he’d kept her safe from the worst of the bullying, those days spent riding to and from football practice together, and last but certainly not least, how he’d decked Greg Burns in the face on prom night.
“Shoot! We’d better get back there,” she said, stuffing the last pig-in-a-blanket into her mouth as she jumped out of the chair.
“Right!” Jameson seemed almost dreamy after the story, and she wondered if he was finally fading after a crazy morning. But if he was, he rebounded instantly as he stepped through the swinging doors into the cafe, grabbed a freshly brewed carafe and said, “Who needs more coffee?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The following day started with a similarly long line down the block, but once it was clear Jameson wouldn’t be making another appearance, that issue took care of itself.
Judith was on duty, meaning there was no shortage of snide comments about whether Jessica expected them to make out on the counter to drum up business.
“I already told you,” Jessica said after the third joke in under an hour.
“Yeah, yeah,” Judith said. “Say what you want.” She leaned close as she passed Jessica behind the counter. “I saw the pictures, and I can’t blame you for loving it.”
“It was a show,” Jessica hissed back.
Judith scoffed and opened the case, reaching for a blueberry muffin. “No, Jessica. It wasn’t. You’re a shitty actor. You couldn’t have pulled that off.”
When closing time approached, Jessica’s lack of acting skills became apparent again when she told Judith to go home early, hoping it sounded like a treat from the boss and not a desperate measure to end the teasing.
Judith rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to pick up where I left off tomorrow.”
“You don’t work tomorrow.”
“Right, but I have big plans to come in on my day off.”
When Jessica groaned, Judith added, “Don’t worry. Both Brian and I agreed that the videos were super hot. I genuinely hope you guys have fake sex and we get to watch that, too.”
Jessica pushed her toward the kitchen.
The main perk of Judith over Jameson was that the woman actually knew what she was doing and the cafe didn’t look like Hurricane Fangirl had passed through. Closing wouldn’t be so hard by herself, and she really could use a quiet moment after the last four days of being around people nonstop.
As she bagged up some of the remaining food to sell in bulk for half price the next day, the last customer packed up the book she was reading. The woman had been a regular in the evenings for months, and it was only recently that Jessica had stopped feeling uneasy around her, wondering when the other shoe would drop and the woman would hand Jessica a pamphlet about sin. But it’d never happened.
“Night, Pastor Adisa,” said Jessica as the woman grabbed her bag from the back of the chair.
Pastor Adisa smiled brightly. “Night, Jessica.” Then, as usual, she waved at the stuffed giraffe Jessica kept on the countertop and said, “Night, Asha.”
Jessica ushered the woman out and locked the front door behind her, then returned to the counter to continue bagging what would keep well—bagels, scones, cookies. As she carried an armful of the bagged goods over to the display cart, she paused as something white caught her eye against the dark backdrop of the night.
Something was taped to glass of the front door. Was that there before? Had Pastor Adisa left her something? She had, hadn’t she? Oh, here it was. The woman had played the long game and now she was finally ready to pull the trigger on some religious propaganda. It always happened this way. Always. Trust a religious leader and you eventually get burned.
Having worked herself up into quite a self-righteous fever, Jessica flipped the lock and flung open the door, ripping the paper off and unfolding it as she held the door open with her foot.
Dearest Jessica,
Don’t let him put his filthy mouth on you again. If he does, he’ll be sorry and so will you. Real love tastes like blood and brimstone, and I offer mine to you. Do not allow yourself to be tainted by the false lust. My craving for you is eternal, as is my commitment. I will be your right hand and ride with you to the fires of Hell.
She looked up quickly, leaving the next three paragraphs unread. There was no doubt in her mind this was another correspondence from Her Loyal Master, and she didn’t need to read all of it to know this had just become a genuine safety issue.
The night was quiet in this part of town. Two cars drove past, and she used their headlights to search for the sender. He must be watching, right? At least, he had been watching for quite some time, waiting until the last customer left before making his move.
She slipped back into the bakery and turned the bolt swiftly.
Her guilt for having jumped to conclusions about Pastor Adisa, who was still a wonderful person, apparently, was drastically overshadowed by the paranoia she felt and her inability to decide which direction was safest for her to put her back to.
She checked quickly over her shoulder, and when there wasn’t anyone creeping up on her, she faced the giant windows again and inched backward toward the kitchen, the note still clutched in her hand.
Would this have happened if she hadn’t sent Judith home early? Why was she here all by herself? This was stupid. She was an idiot. She deserved to be murdered, being this careless, thinking she had a right to safe alone time.
Pull it together. He didn’t even threaten you.
Yet.
While she now regretted the multiple refusals to allow Destinee to hide a shotgun under the counter, she wasn’t completely defenseless. She had knives. Lots of them.
But they were all back in the kitchen, one flapping door away.
The next best weapon was under the counter, though, and she snatched up her cell phone before sliding down to sit against the shelves, hidden from view of the front windows. No one could sneak up on her here. She unlocked the screen and, in a daze, scrolled through her contacts for who to call. The first name that caught her eye and gave her a spark of hope was: Chris Riley DO NOT CALL.
What could he do anyway from all the way up in Philadelphia? Calling would just worry him and show him that she didn’t have anyone else in town she could rely on. And it seemed a cruel thing to do the day after videos of her kissing another man began circulating. Chris, unlike her, didn’t avoid social media like the plague. Why would he? Social media usually thought so highly of him.
She had plenty of people around to call. Most of them were women, sure, and dragging another woman into this didn’t seem like the kind of sisterhood she strove for. Dragging a man, though, would be just fine.
Jameson?
Of course not. Jameson was there for the easy part, and sure, he’d enjoyed hear
ing a bit of realness from her teenage years, but no one actually wanted to live the realness. Not when it was like this. Jameson was available for the good times, not the messy and terrifying ones.
As soon as she scrolled to the Qs, she saw who she needed.
He answered with, “Now, Jess, you know I can’t have my fake exes calling me up when I’m with my new girl.”
His voice lowered her heart rate by ten beats per minute immediately.
“Quentin. Are you super busy?”
“Hanging with Callie. What’s up?
“Shit. Are y’all about to bang? I can call someone else if you’re about to bang.”
“You sound like you’re hyperventilating. What’s going on?”
“Can you come to the bakery? And, like, bring a weapon or something?”
A scuffle on the line told her he was shifting the phone to a better position, and she heard Callie’s concerned voice in the background, though she couldn’t make out the words. “Jessica, what’s going on?”
“Someone’s left me a creepy letter, and I’m hiding behind the counter.”
“Aw hell, Jess. Call the cops.”
“Maybe, but can you come by first?”
“Yeah, sure. But then don’t call the cops until I’m already there. Last thing I need is them catching wind of a stalker and then finding a black man lurking on your place with a weapon.”
Jessica was finally able to breathe now that Quentin had agreed. “Right, right. Thanks.”
She remained behind the counter for the next twenty minutes, scared to move and scared to enter the kitchen, where all kinds of hiding places existed. Had she locked the back door? Could her stalker pick a lock?
When Quentin finally knocked on the front door, Jessica peed just a little.
She hurried over and waved Quentin inside quickly. He had left Callie behind, and she was especially grateful for that. Not only did it mean another woman wasn’t in danger, it showed that Quentin believed her when she said shit was dangerous.
“You didn’t bring a weapon,” she said.
“Yeah, I did.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small pink object. “Pepper spray.”
In the Details Page 21