Lucy and The Love Pact: Young Adult Fake Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 2)

by Anna Catherine Field

  She’s been my agent ever since.

  At first, it was very part time. Just a few more local commercials. I enjoyed it, though, and she must have seen something in me, because she encouraged me apply to the art program at the high school. Slowly, acting became more and more important to me. I didn’t drop my athleticism, if anything I realized that it was an asset to my career. I just don’t have time to play competitively anymore.

  The office door opens and Marissa, with her short red hair, pops her head out. “Dean! My superstar! Come in.”

  I enter the office and sit. She gets straight to business by handing me a stack of papers.

  “You’re confirmed for two days next week. The script is included. I’m telling you, Dean, I think this could lead to something big. Andrew Xavier wants to shift into movies. Rumor has it he has two offers on the table. He may have to choose between Avondale and the film work. If you boost up this part you could maybe slide into a regular role.”

  Andrew Xavier is a legend in acting. He started on kid shows as the scrawny adorable kid, took a few years off and came back in an entirely new body with a leading man mentality. It would be no surprise if he shifted into movies. I can’t keep the smile off my face. “That would be awesome.”

  I sign the paperwork and hand it over, keeping the script to go over later. “How’s your social media looking?” she asks.

  “Okay. I try to post here and there, but I’m not great at it.”

  “The Avondale fans are rabid. Give them a little bit of what they want every day. Pictures of your life. School. Places you’ve been. Friends. They want to feel like they’re part of your life.” She pauses. “This is a big part of entertainment now. Selling yourself to an online audience. The higher-ups are watching.”

  I grimace, not really into this side of things. “Unfortunately, my life is pretty boring right now, just trying to keep up with everything.”

  That’s what I keep telling everyone. Tommy. Lucy. Now my agent.

  “Still no girlfriend?”

  “No time for that, either.” I think back to Lucy, how I’d almost asked her out. Dodged that bullet. I rub my forehead. “I have a hard enough time getting everything done that I can’t imagine adding in a relationship. Even today I told a girl, a really hot girl, I couldn’t help her with something.”

  “Oh yeah?” Marissa rolls her eyes at my use of the word hot. “You like her?”

  “It’s not like that. She’s...” I lean back in my seat. “You remember the girl from The Next Big Model that lost it when they made her shave her head?”

  “Lucy Harrington?”

  I blink. “You do know her.”

  “Of her. That video went viral. It was amazing publicity for the show.”

  I laugh darkly. “Well, not so much for her. She’s a mess now and they’re trying to get her back for this new season.”

  “The Redemption storyline.”

  “Yep.”

  “Is she going to do it?” Marissa asks.

  “I didn’t think so, but she came to me today asking me to help work through some of her hang-ups. Insecurities, dealing with rejection, you know, that kind of stuff.”

  “You’re a confident guy. I’m not surprised she asked.”

  I am. I’m still shocked she showed up at school like that. There’s a part of me, the purely male part, that can’t believe I told her no.

  Neither, apparently, can Marissa. “And you shot her down?”

  I shrug. “I’m busy and you know I’m not into drama. That girl is drama with a capital D.”

  Marissa taps her pen on the table. “You know, helping her out could be mutually beneficial.”

  “How so?”

  “It could give you a little media exposure. People are interested in both of you right now. You because you’re the rising star. Lucy because she’s fighting her way back. People love to see two attractive people overcome the odds and succeed.”

  “You want me to date her?”

  She shrugs. “That’s up to you.”

  I run my hand through my hair. “Yeah, I’m not into that.” Emotions—that’s playing with emotions, but that doesn’t mean all of Marissa’s idea is off base. “Lucy used to be really good at social media.”

  “She was. During the show, she had millions of followers. Her content is a perfect mix of fashion and fun. She gets it.” She gives me a look. “The network wants actors that understand how to navigate this territory. It’s leverage, like everything else, and getting better at it could help Avondale realize you’re a hot commodity.”

  I shift uncomfortably. This is the side of the industry I don’t like. The part where you use people. “So, I’d get Lucy to show me how to navigate social media. Do you really think I have something to offer her?”

  Marissa nods vigorously. “You’ve got something special, Dean. Confidence is your greatest asset. People like you. She wants to change her image, right? A handsome up-and-coming actor befriending a reality show villain? It certainly can’t hurt her.”

  I nod, understanding a little better. We both need to up our game. We both need help. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Well think about it fast,” she says, leaning back in her leather chair. “This industry doesn’t wait. Just ask Lucy.”

  12

  Lucy

  Week nights are pretty dull during the off season, and Jennifer and I are cleaning up in the kitchen, counting the minutes until it’s time to go home.

  My phone keeps buzzing with texts and calls from Finley. Fiona is pressuring her for my information. I’m going to have to make a decision soon.

  “So what’s going on with you and Irving?” I ask, stashing the phone under the counter. He’d clocked out an hour ago and is hanging out at the bar. I have no doubt he’s waiting on Jen to close up.

  “No clue,” she says. “I’ve made it pretty clear, I’m game if he is.”

  “Game for what?” I ask, trying not to sound naïve. The hardest part of having a long-term no dating policy is that I have zero experience with guys.

  She shrugs. “Whatever. A date. A movie. Maybe just a hook-up.”

  “You like him more than that though, right?” Hooking up never made much sense to me. All the kids at school jump in and out of relationships. It seems like a tricky concept.

  “Sure.” She peeks out the kitchen window. He spots her and smiles.

  “I think you should just ask him out.”

  She laughs. “Really? Would you ask someone out?”

  It’s well known I’m not a fan of rejection. Today is a perfect example of why. It still stings that I went to Dean for help and he brushed me off. Maybe I need to be more like him and keep track. If we include my dad, my foster family, the show, and the reaction of a million fans, I think it’s too many to count.

  The front door swings open and we pause.

  “Rock, Paper, Scissors?” Jennifer asks with a tilt of her head.

  “Fine.” It’s the way we decide who’s taking a table this late at night. Whoever gets it will be the last one working.

  We both pump our fists and reveal our hands. She’s a paper. I’m the rock.

  “Great,” I moan, knowing I just got the shaft. “But if I do that table, you have to go ask Irving out.”

  She rests a hand on her hip. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “One of us needs a success story today and it sure isn’t going to be me.” I push through the door, adjusting the string of the apron around my waist, and walk to the hostess area. I stop cold when I see Dean in the entryway.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came for dinner.”

  I frown and grab a menu, veering him away from the bar where two nosey co-workers are eyeing me.

  “Water?”

  He flashes me a grin. “Yep.”

  I don’t return the gesture and walk to the kitchen. The door swings open behind me.

  “Okay, I know for sure he’s here for you. What’s going on?�
�� Jennifer asks.

  “Nothing is going on,” I tell her and fill the cup. “He just likes our water.”

  “Sure he does. Is he going to ask you out? Has he asked you out?”

  “No,” I reply. “And he’s not going to. He’s just here to get on my nerves.”

  “Or under your skin,” she replies. I ignore her and walk back to the front.

  “Have you decided what you want for dinner?”

  He flips the menu back and forth, then tosses it aside. “Okay, I’m not here for dinner. I’m here to talk to you.”

  “I think you made it clear we’re done talking.”

  “About that…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking it over and you’re right. I can help you.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Can or will?”

  “I want to help you. I think you’ve got a lot of potential and even though I don’t know you very well, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

  I glance over my shoulder and both Irving and Jennifer avert their eyes. I slide into the booth across from Dean. “What made you change your mind?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s some of the stuff you said to me about having family and a support system. I thought about how they’ve been there for me through some of my low times. It doesn’t seem like you had any of that.”

  I look at my hands. Not when push came to shove. “I didn’t.”

  “There’s something else.”

  He says this in a tone that makes me glance up. He’s rubbing his neck and not exactly looking me in the eye, which is probably okay because Dean Turner’s eyes are dangerous. I can tell, though, that there’s a catch. “What?”

  “My agent thinks I need more exposure and visibility to build my career. Social media, hanging with interesting people. That kind of thing.” He taps the table with his fingers. Is he nervous? “I thought maybe we could help each other. I help you get your confidence back. You help me build my social profile.”

  I want to say no thanks. I’d totally walked away from social media when my meltdown went viral. Before that, I’d been good at it. Really good. People followed me for my fashion and makeup advice. It was fun, but then the show happened and things turned ugly. There’s part of me that knows that if I’m going to do this, I can’t hide from the realities of the industry. It also makes me feel a little bit better that Dean needs me, too.

  “So,” he says, the nervous look replaced by a deadly smile, “what do you think?”

  My phone buzzes, revealing another message. I toss it on the table. “I think I’ve got to make a decision about the show one way or the other.”

  “Call back and say yes.” His tone is so confident. So assured. Will I ever feel that way about myself again?

  My heart thunders and my palms sweat. Answering Finley's call means that my whole life turns upside down, again. “And you’ll help me figure out how to be more successful?”

  “If you’re willing to put in the time and do everything I ask you to do, yeah, I think we can get you ready in time.”

  “Everything you ask?” I don’t like that caveat.

  “Within reason. Nothing inappropriate, I promise.”

  I look at this boy, this handsome, on the edge of success boy, and hold out my hand. “Deal, but you have to follow my lead on the social media stuff. That’s definitely an area I know how to navigate.”

  His eyebrow raises and he shakes my hand. “Deal.”

  I take a deep breath, aware that I feel a new, different kind of weight on my shoulders. Relying on someone else? This is new for me. “What first?”

  He reaches across the table and tugs the hat off my head.

  I lunge for it, but he tucks it on his side of the table.

  “Rule number one. No more hats.”

  I frantically try to smooth down my hair. “And?” I ask, already regretting this.

  He nudges my phone. “It’s time to call Fiona Caldwell.”

  13

  Lucy

  As much as I try, I can’t get away from my reflection. Mirrors, apparently, are the central fall theme at Fiona’s Home and everywhere I look I catch a glimpse of myself.

  Trying to follow the basic agreement Dean and I made the night before, I put some effort into my appearance for my meeting with Fiona. No hat, just my hair styled as much as possible. It’d grown out more wavy than before and it was hard for me to get it to cooperate. It wasn’t exactly easy when it was long, but I had a process, typically straightening or curling the long locks as I pleased. Worst case? Braids or a ponytail.

  Making another attempt to avoid the mirrors, I walk to the sales girl at the counter. “I’m here to see Ms. Caldwell.”

  The young woman looks up with a bright smile, then her eyes narrow and I see the exact moment recognition sets in. I fight every urge not to run out the door. “Oh, yes, she said she was expecting someone. Follow me.”

  She circles around the checkout area and leads me down the back hall. She knocks and I hear Fiona call, “Come in.” The girl smiles sympathetically at me and walks off. I take a deep breath and open the door.

  Fiona sits behind a desk in a small but tidy office. It’s beautifully decorated, elegant like her store and her overall persona. She stands when I enter, greeting me with a smile and open arms. “Lucy, so wonderful to see you.”

  I can’t muster myself to do the same.

  “Ms. Caldwell.”

  She gives me a look. “Call me Fiona, you know that.”

  I’ve learned this is a trick, getting the contestants to call her by her first name, like we’re on level footing, when we’re anything but. My guard is up, way up, because even though I told Dean I’m doing this, I haven’t seen a contract and nothing is set in stone.

  “Sit,” she says. “Would you like some water or tea?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I say, taking one of the hard chairs. I straighten my shoulders.

  “You’re a hard girl to locate.”

  “I needed a little time to process things.”

  “I understand,” she says, brushing away an imaginary strand of her caramel-colored hair. Square diamonds twinkle at her ears. She looks so much like her son, and my friend, Chase, that it can be a little alarming. The difference though is Chase, although often guarded, is genuine. Fiona makes me uncomfortable with her directness. “How are you doing now?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Of course. Why would I ask a question I don’t want the answer to?”

  So direct.

  “It’s been hard since the show aired. I’m not going to deny I’ve floundered a little, although I do have a job and I’m in online school.”

  “What about your family?”

  I shrug. I know she hates that. “I haven’t spoken to my dad or the Johnsons.”

  “So you’re going it alone?” She tilts her head.

  I think about Maya, Finley, and Jennifer. Even Dean. “No. Not exactly alone, but yeah, I take care of myself.”

  Fiona leans over the top of the desk. “You’ve obviously heard about the new season.”

  “Yes, the redemption storyline. It’s made quite the splash.”

  She nods with pride. “Then there’s no real question as to why I asked you here.”

  “You want me to participate.”

  “I do. I think it will be a great story for the viewers and frankly, an opportunity for you to rewrite history. I know that leaving the show was very difficult for you and it’s not how we wanted things to go, at all. To be perfectly frank, I thought you’d go the long haul. The stumble with makeover day? That may have been a misstep on my part. I thought you were stronger than that.”

  I’d been with her all along. All the way to the final sentence, but that slight? That slam? Fiona was the queen of the backhanded compliment. It feels like a swift kick in the gut. I almost have to wonder if she’s baiting me.

  I refuse to take it. WWDD? I think. He’d give a cocky smile and make her think this was my
idea.

  I can’t quite muster the smile but I raise my chin when I ask, “When does the competition start?”

  She looks surprised that’s my response. “In a month. November. The final episode will air live before Christmas.”

  Thirty days for me to get my confidence back and step into that show with a whole new outlook. “If you want me, I’m game.”

  “Game?” she asks.

  “Yeah, game. Because that’s what this is, right? A game. Not actually a road to success like I always thought.”

  Fiona narrows her eyes. “The Next Big Model is an opportunity, Lucy. One you can either grasp or get trampled by. We saw what happened the first time. It’s up to you to figure out how you want the next one to end.”

  She says this like I have control over any of it. Like I’m in charge of the clothing, the hair, the makeup, and the judges' decisions. There’s something different this time. I know what I’m getting into and I’m not that naïve girl anymore.

  I stand and thrust my hand across the desk. “I’m in.”

  Fiona stares at my hand for a moment before a smile curves on her beautiful face. She grips my hand with alarming strength and replies, “Excellent. You won’t regret it.”

  I don’t know if that’s true, and when I leave the shop my hands are still shaking. I pull out my phone and dial the number I’d just saved the night before. It’s time for me and my new partner to come up with a game plan.

  14

  Dean

  I’m tugging on a clean shirt after my workout when the doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it,” I shout, knowing it’s Lucy. She texted me that we needed to meet to go over a few things about our deal. Knowing I have to get up at 4 a.m. to get to the Avondale set on time, I suggested she just come here.

  “Oh. My. God,” Emily shouts from foyer. I wince and run down the stairs.

  My sister is in a complete state of panic seeing Lucy at the door. Lucy, who, by the way, looks like a completely different person from the night before. Her hair is styled, she’s wearing a little makeup and my eyes keep traveling down below the hem of her skirt to her bare legs.