by Randi Rigby
I blushed. “Well, I’m sorry you got stuck with me. Kirstie will expect results.”
Jack nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll deliver. How do you feel about vlogging?”
“Me, personally? What would I vlog about?”
“Baking.” He shrugged. “Your great skin.”
“You’re hilarious. Trust me, I’m really boring.”
“No, you’re surprisingly normal. But you’re also not. Doors are opening for you. You’re getting a name. Momentum for your modeling career is really starting to pick up. Why not take people along for the ride?”
“Doesn’t Karlie Kloss already do something like this? Vlog, I mean.” I already got compared to her a lot. Not that I was complaining—she was awesome. But we were the same crazy height, both blonde, both athletic. We both did ballet. And we both modeled, although she was obviously on a completely different stratosphere than me. I think she even liked to bake.
“True. But you’re still in high school. And just starting out. I think we’d have an audience and a fresh perspective.”
“We?”
“You didn’t think I was going to make you do this on your own, did you?”
“No offense Jack, but you’re only here for six months. It’ll probably take me that long just to convince anyone outside of my own family to watch it. And I might have to bribe them with brownies.”
“Don’t underestimate me or you. We’ll get this off the ground and I promise I won’t leave you hanging. It’s going to be a game changer. Do you trust me, Kel?”
“There’s not really a good, right answer to that.” I sighed.
7
“I’m only one call away”
Charlie Puth
“Hey, good morning, Charlie.” He plopped down on my chest and enthusiastically licked my chin. He was a better actor than me. “You want to go for a run, boy?” I rolled over in bed and talked to the camera, no make-up on, the oversized Longhorn T-shirt I’d snagged from Drew a couple of weeks ago and now wore for pajamas just visible in the tangle of my blankets. “I think we’re doing this.”
Jack nodded and then signaled me with a thumbs up as he turned off the video camera. “Good, Kel.” He stepped into the hall and closed my bedroom door so I could change into running gear. Dad was in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and a bit grumpy at having to get up early on a Saturday, doing his best to ignore us but still wanting to be around while some guy he’d never met was hanging out in his daughter’s bedroom.
Jack got video of me tying up my shoes while Charlie sat patiently at my feet and waited. He filmed us heading out—the sun was just starting to come up. And then, because it was supposed to look real, I sprinted half a mile to work up a sweat and came back breathless. Jack filmed us running up the driveway, careful not to catch any discernible landmarks that might lead to someone being able to find out where I lived.
Charlie was understandably confused. He was just getting warmed up when I turned us around. He cocked his head and waited expectantly for another lap but I headed for the kitchen instead. When he realized we were really done for the day, he joined Dad in long face sulking.
I took a quick shower and put on a five-minute face, my hair was piled on my head in a massive, messy bun. It was going to be a shorts and T-shirt kind of day.
“Breakfast.” I slid my omelet onto my plate next to some blueberries. I topped my eggs with fresh salsa. “Got to bring the heat. I’m a Texas girl now.” I took a forkful, swallowed, and grinned. “Yeah. It tastes as good as it looks.”
Jack turned the camera off.
“Did you make enough of that for me, Texas girl?” Dad said dryly.
“Eat mine.” I pushed my plate toward him. “I’ll make more. You might as well stay for breakfast,” I told Jack. “You gave up your morning for me. The least we can do is feed you.”
“I’ll help.” Jack got to his feet. “What? You think you’re the only one who knows your way around an omelet? I’m a single man. I’ve got to eat too.”
“So, what now?” I poured Jack a glass of orange juice and joined him at the island. His omelets were much fluffier than mine. I should’ve been paying closer attention to how he made them.
“You’re in L.A. Thursday and Friday.” Jack spooned my homemade salsa onto his eggs. “I talked to Kirstie last night and laid out our plan. She approved the Texas Tall moniker for your vlog and she wants me to go with you and help kick off your social media campaign.”
“Seriously?” I put down my fork. “And you’re going to do it?”
“I am.”
Dad looked at me. I knew what he was thinking.
“Do you already have plans for tomorrow night? No? How would you like to come to a McCoy family Sunday dinner?” I said. Might as well get this over with. “The food is great and the company is…Did I mention the food?”
Not too long ago, in a rare moment of solemnity, Uncle Bryce confided in Dad and me after I made some offhand remark one night about how crazy Shae could get on our trips—she was highly suspicious of anyone male, especially the photographers—that she had been raped as a young woman. All those times she breezily went shopping while I was working? She had to literally force herself to leave me there alone and unprotected. “So many anxiety purchases,” Uncle Bryce sighed. “Good thing you’re cute, Squirt.”
Giving Shae the chance to get to know Jack better before our trip just seemed like the right thing to do.
Jack drove himself to Pops and Gran’s. Drew and I met him at the front door. “Hey Jack. Come on in. This is my boyfriend, Drew Jarrod, who, among other things, is a really talented musician and much more active on Instagram than I am—which I know isn’t saying much. Drew, Jack Donnelly. I think Kirstie’s hoping he’ll turn me into clickbait.”
“Classy clickbait.” Jack extended his hand and Drew shook it. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”
“Kel says you’re going to L.A. with her and Shae this week. I hope you like sushi.”
Jack smiled. “I do.”
“Come meet everyone,” I said. Uncle Nick and Aunt Jill, Trey and Claire, Justin and Jules, and Cade and Sarah all had something else going on so we were a smaller group today. Pops and Gran insisted on sitting Jack down with an icy glass of lemonade and chatted with him about his family and his childhood home here in Austin, which in a bizarre coincidence Pops actually built.
“Kirstie’s vetted him?” Shae said quietly as we watched my grandparents being their disarming, charming selves. Jack was more animated with them than he’d ever been with me. “You’re sure?”
“You can call her and ask, but she’s the one who wanted him to go to L.A. with us.”
“He seems nice enough.”
“He is.”
Shae nodded and brightened. “Well, in any case, I’ll be there.”
Shae couldn’t be there. Wednesday afternoon, two hours before we were scheduled to leave for our 6:00 p.m. flight, she called to let us know that the draggy feeling she’d had all day had blown up into a fever of 102° and she hadn’t been able to keep anything down. Dad asked if I was okay going alone. His surgery schedule for the next two days was packed—he was scrambling to come up with a Plan B last minute.
“I won’t really be alone.” I pointed out the obvious. Jack was picking me up any minute now to take us to the airport—we lived on the same side of town.
On the other end of the line it was quiet. I pictured Dad in his office, his head heavy in his hands. What would Greer do? Finally he sighed. “Just be careful, Kel. And promise me you won’t go into his room alone or let him into yours. Be smart.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too, kid. Travel safe. Call me when you get to the hotel.”
Jack put my carry-on bag in the back of his red Mustang and then slid in to the driver’s seat. “Selfie time. Make it obvious you’re in a car. Close-up. Just you,” he said as he buckled in.
“I’m not going to be one of those annoying people who Instagrams everything, a
m I?” I’d already lost a thumb battle with him Sunday over filming my breakfast, but I would absolutely put my foot down on this if I had to.
“Give me a little credit, Kel. Two a day is my max if you’ve got something big going on. One is better.”
Reluctantly, I pulled out my phone and took a picture of me looking out the passenger side of the window. Heading to the City of Angels. Chapstick, sunscreen & strappy sandals in hand. #survivalkit #texastall #tropicallykissed. Jack checked his feed at the first red light. “Nice.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t.”
We didn’t talk much until we landed in L.A. and we were on the way to the hotel. I had an essay to write for English Lit and French, and a take home test for calculus to tackle. Jack was deep into his laptop. Sometimes I forgot I wasn’t his only job.
“You tired, Kel?” Jack asked, the spattered glow from the streetlights and businesses we passed flickered and illuminated different parts of him as our driver negotiated the roads.
“A little. I think I’m more hungry than anything else.”
“You want to grab something to eat after we check in?”
“I have to call Dad and Drew first. Can you wait that long?” I rubbed at a kink in my neck.
“Call them now.”
“While I’m sitting here with you?”
“I won’t listen in.”
“That’s so not the point—and you would too, how could you not?”
“What is it then?”
I was my mother’s daughter. “It’s rude, Jack.”
“It’s efficient. I give you my permission to completely ignore me and talk to someone else. I promise not to be offended.”
“Fine.” I pulled my phone out of my bag and opened my favorites to select my father. “Just remember who started this. Hey, Dad. We made it.”
Thanks to L.A. traffic I managed to Facetime Drew for over half an hour before we finally reached the hotel. I was sure he wondered why I was suddenly so chatty. I didn’t usually like to talk on the phone. “Got to go babe,” I chirped as we pulled up curbside. “We’re here, see?” I panned the hotel entryway for him, probably making him motion sick. I brought my phone closer to my face and made a kissing motion at the screen, which was admittedly a little too over the top. Drew didn’t call me on it but to his credit he also didn’t kiss me back. “Love you, Drew.” This, I meant sincerely. “Miss you. So much.”
Jack cocked his head, looking slightly amused as he paid the driver. “And now we can eat.”
“Just as soon as I text my Aunt Shae.”
Jack threw his hands up. “Okay, okay! You win.”
“Thank you,” I grinned with a bow of my head. “But actually, I really should text my aunt. I meant to do that earlier but I got sidetracked being a jerk. She’s worried about me being out here alone without her.”
“You’re not alone. You’re with me.”
“That’s what she’s worried about.”
She worried about it the whole time we were in L.A. Even though I sent her texts whenever I got a break and Jack had my social media hopping more than it ever had been so she could see what we were up to.
He was constantly taking pictures or video of me. He even ran a five-mile loop on the beach with me early both mornings, ostensibly so he could capture more feed but I actually think it was just because I told him how much I hated running inside on a treadmill because he didn’t pull his phone out once. He was a runner too; he got it.
At the shoot he stayed in the background, but he was never too far away.
“Boyfriend?” Magna, the make-up artist wanted to know the first day, checking Jack out with a predatory gleam in her eye.
“No. And he’s single,” I told her with a smile. “Go for it.”
“I will.” She bit on her lower lip and rubbed her hands together. “He’s yummy.”
But even though I tried to beg off and made sure he knew he didn’t have to babysit me, that he was free to have some fun on this trip, he still insisted on taking me out for sushi Thursday night just the two of us.
“All these women think I’m your girlfriend,” I protested as I trailed behind him in the restaurant, still smelling like a coconut and looking like I just got back from Hawaii.
“So?”
“So they don’t think you’re available.”
“Kel?”
“Yes?”
“We’re done talking about my love life.”
We took a booth and Jack slid in next to me. And then we pulled out our phones. I was pretty sure if anything could disturb my mother’s eternal slumber enough to raise her from the dead, this was it. Jack was carefully tracking our numbers: how many followers, how many likes, and how many comments.
“Am I actually going to have to read all these?” Most of the comments were sweet but some of them were…ew. Really?
“Ignore anyone disgusting or mean. Try and interact occasionally with those who seem sincere.”
I opened a DM that just popped up and immediately wished I hadn’t. “Jack, why do guys send girls they don’t even know pictures of their junk? Do they somehow think it’s appealing?”
“I have no adequate response to that. I can only apologize for my sex.”
He waited until we’d ordered before pulling out his laptop to show me what he had ready for me to post. “I talked to Curtis. He’ll have promo releases for us from today’s shoot ready for us tomorrow.” He scrolled through the pictures he’d uploaded from his phone.
“I like these,” I said, admiring his eye for light and angles. “They say something without being too posey.”
“I think we do a mix. Tropically Kissed will want some of their shots in there. Maybe we pick one or two of our favorites, post those on Instagram and Twitter. We do this larger spread on your Facebook. I should have your first Texas Tall vlog ready for your YouTube channel sometime early next week.”
Everything looked incredible—fun and glamorous but still real. I almost didn’t recognize my own life.
“Thank you, Jack.” I touched his arm, moved. “You’ve really worked hard on this. At least Kirstie can’t say you didn’t try.”
“Have a little faith, Kel.” He stared at my fingers on his bare skin, which now felt weirdly inappropriate. I quickly removed them and placed my hands firmly in my lap.
“Oh, I do.” I babbled nervously. “You definitely know what you’re doing.”
“But?”
“But I’ve flown under the radar for most of my life, which isn’t exactly easy when you’re as tall as I am. I think there’s probably a good reason for that.”
Jack was slow to respond. When he did it was almost gruff. “They didn’t know you. They couldn’t have.”
We were saved from finding our way out of something that had somehow grown awkward when the waiter showed up with our food.
And suddenly, animated Jack—the one who sat with my grandparents and told stories about growing up in his childhood home with three older sisters and one bathroom—was back and by my side, making me laugh out loud through the rest of our dinner.
Friday we were shooting on the coast and it was unseasonably cold—even for early November. I spent most of my day wet and shivering in a bikini on a portion of the beach that they’d blocked off but was still accessible to the public. People in down vests and jackets, who probably thought I was someone famous, stopped to watch. Several took pictures with their phones, some with cameras with long lenses.
We had an afternoon flight back to Austin scheduled but with the cloud coverage the light was so good Curtis pushed to try and make the most of it. I was practically blue by the time he called a wrap. The moment he did, Jack, who had been pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, quickly pulled off his thick, navy blue fisherman’s sweater and thrust it at me. He was definitely not happy.
“I’ll…get it…all wet.” My teeth were chattering.
“Do I look like I care?”
; Obediently, I slid it over my head and threaded my arms through. It was still blessedly warm from his body heat. He rubbed his hands vigorously up and down my arms, catching my icy fingertips in his and blowing on them with his breath. “Thank you,” I shivered. “That feels…so good.”
“You’re frozen through. Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel and into a hot shower.” Wrapping his arm tightly around me he grabbed my bag and, throwing it over his shoulder, half dragged me to the car. “Crank the heat,” he ordered the driver.
When I answered his knock at my hotel door twenty minutes later, showered, dressed, and ready to go, he handed me a container of hot soup. “Eat it on the way. We’re going to be pushing it to make our flight.”
“I’d rather you didn’t eat that in my car.” Our driver frowned in his rear view mirror.
“Too bad,” Jack told him as I was already putting the lid back on it. “She hasn’t eaten anything since 6:30 this morning. If we spill we’ll pay to have your car cleaned.” He handed me a napkin. “Don’t spill.”
I didn’t. And I took my trash out with me when we reached the airport, meekly scooting across the seat and following Jack into LAX while he wheeled his bag and mine behind him, one in each hand, and sprinted. “Sorry, I can take that now,” I said as we reached the TSA line for screening. “Jack?”
He let go of my suitcase handle.
“Am I in trouble?”
“That depends.” He pulled up our flight on his phone and showed me that it was boarding right now. “How big a deal is it to that boyfriend of yours if you miss his playoff game? Because there’s a really good chance we’re going to miss our flight. Learn to stand up for yourself, Kel. Curtis didn’t need another hour of you crawling around in the sand, he just wanted it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“STOP APOLOGIZING!” He practically threw his stuff into a tray as he pushed it down the conveyor belt along with his suitcase. People were staring. I quickly placed my belongings on the belt and followed him through.