Carrie was still watching the action through the small window in the door. But now she was surrounded by a couple of half-dressed twirlers and several members of an Indian dance troupe who’d been the last to go on. After Carrie delivered a few sharp elbows to get some breathing room, her eyes landed on a tall, chunky black girl covering her face with the sleeves of her ginormous sweater. She gurgled with shock. Her rival was nothing like she expected. “She should at least look like a model,” Carrie muttered. “This is an insult to both of us!”
This EJ was shyly moving to the center of the room. “Way to blow up my spot, Tessa,” she lightly chastised the person who’d called her out.
“I regret nothing!” the other girl shouted. “Kiss him!”
Carrie wrinkled her nose. “Or don’t,” she said sourly.
Now the audience had taken up the cause, chanting, “Kiss him!” until she finally did just that at the edge of the makeshift stage. When their lips met, Carrie could see the rest of the world disappear for them.
“If that’s not love, it’s pretty damn close,” she heard one of the dancers whisper while the audience cheered.
This was unbearable. Carrie fled to the nearest bathroom. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or vomit. She did both, then remained in the bathroom to cheer herself up.
EJ
After the BournTones’ finale, the Bennet House RAs thanked the audience for their attendance and asked them not to put anything embarrassing or personal from the night on the internet.
“Some of us have really big interviews in two weeks!” EJ squeaked.
Thankfully the crowd was mostly made up of Bennet Women and benevolent friends, who seemed to be pulling for her and Will. They dispersed to the night’s parties while the organizers stayed behind to clean up. EJ found Will once more. After a long kiss, she rocked onto her toes and whispered, “As soon as we’re done here, let’s go back to your place.” She bit him discreetly on the ear. “For . . . reasons.”
Will gave her a quick tush squeeze and shouted, “Who needs help? I want to make this cleanup happen very efficiently.”
Laughing, EJ went to the bathroom to wet down some rags. She leaned against the wall and took a moment to collect herself. She couldn’t stop smiling. “Looks like I appreciate big romantic gestures,” she giggled.
Then a voice came from behind her. “So you’re Will Pak’s girl now?” she spat.
“Woman, fully grown,” EJ corrected reflexively. “I’d prefer to be called something more feminist than girlfriend but less stodgy than significant other, and I’d sound like that JYA student if I tried to use partner, not that it’s that seri . . .” She trailed off and gave a little shrug. It was clear this person did not wish her well, so she decided to speak plainly. “We are in a committed, exclusive relationship.”
The other woman seemed infuriated by her last statement. She tossed her hair and went slightly red at the cheeks. EJ turned away from her and finished drying her hands. Above them, the fluorescent lights flickered and hissed. The other woman made a noise between a grunt and a groan, then met EJ at the sink. “I don’t know what fantasies you’ve conjured up, but it won’t last between you.”
EJ’s eyes widened, but she remembered the words of her mother (“You can’t beat crazy with crazy”) and swallowed her initial response. She looked the seething redhead up and down, then said, “Gosh, you’re pretty. Have we met?”
That phrase was the “Bless your heart” of Bennet House, their way of saying, “You are obviously physically attractive, but otherwise too dumb/annoying/worthless to live.”
The stranger turned white with anger. “Are you fucking serious?” she demanded. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?” EJ asked genuinely. The woman before her was pretty in an expected, head-cheerleader way—but EJ couldn’t quite place her.
“I’m Carrie Dean!” she protested.
“Oh, Will’s ex.”
“I’m a superstar!” Carrie cried, truly galled.
The RA gave a slight gasp of recognition. “The Super Bowl, right? You, um . . . sang the anthem.”
Carrie didn’t answer but suddenly became fascinated with the lighting fixtures. EJ looked at her quizzically. “I thought you were a blonde.”
“It’s a wig. I’m considering a change. Anyway,” Carrie pressed on, “I want to let you know that it won’t become anything serious.” She looked at EJ with evident distaste. “None of Will’s friends will ever accept some chubby gold digger—especially with those ragbag clothes. No one in LA will want to know you since you’re just some nerdy college feminist. You’ll annoy the guys and bore the other girls. You and Will can enjoy what you have here, but that’s it. Out there: that’s his world, my world, and you’ll never belong.”
EJ bit the inside of her cheek to maintain her calm facade. “But your world sounds so appealing,” she responded dryly. “I’m a little confused as to what you’re trying to accomplish here.” She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms. “You didn’t need to come three thousand miles to tell me that I’m not skinny and Hollywood people are shallow. I own both a mirror and a television.”
“I’m here because understanding the truth is different than knowing it,” Carrie Dean snapped. She looked away and huffily ran her fingers through her artificial auburn bangs. “Believe it or not, this is a friendly warning—not just for you, but for Will. He’s a good friend.”
She looked EJ in the eyes. “If you care about him, break up with him. Save him from himself. This”—she waved a hand vaguely in EJ’s direction—“entanglement will only hurt his career. Do you want to be responsible for that?” Carrie put her hands on her hips and seemed to be awaiting EJ’s instant capitulation.
Fuck that, EJ thought. She uncrossed her arms and spoke. “You’re working really hard to protect an adult man from his own decisions. Whatever future Will and I have will be decided by us alone.”
Carrie scoffed, but before she could speak, EJ said, “Don’t waste any more of your words on me, honey. If you’re so concerned about Will, why don’t you go talk to him? I’m pretty sure he’s still in the house.”
The actress shifted uncomfortably. Gotcha!
Whether it was the lingering smell of cigarette smoke near the window or the undeniable clink of liquor bottles in a freshman’s shower caddy, EJ could always spot the moment someone knew they were well and truly caught. “I mean, he knows you’re here, right?” she continued with a small smile. “Because if he doesn’t, I’d say you’re less of a ‘good friend’ and more of a stalker with great resources.”
“I’m surprising him,” Carrie objected.
“And that sounds super likely.” EJ tented her hands under her chin. “So here’s a thought: how about you get the hell out. I’ll forget about this pathetic attempt to intimidate me, pretend you weren’t even here. That way you won’t spoil your surprise, and I can go fuck my boyfriend.”
Carrie flushed red, and she struggled for an insult to fling. EJ did not give her the opportunity.
“Out. Now,” she insisted, making a shooing motion with her hand. The singer muttered something uncomplimentary and stomped off into the night.
EJ closed her eyes and leaned into the cool tile wall. She was suddenly tired. The adrenaline and righteous anger that carried her through that unpleasant interaction were fading fast. Now, she couldn’t deny the possibility of truth in what Carrie said. Perhaps it was best that she and Will had yet to make each other any promises. EJ sighed. Then she remembered the rags still in the sink and quickly collected herself. She had cleanup to do, volunteers to thank, and bake-sale money to count. She was suddenly grateful for the distraction of work.
Will
Outside, next to the Bennet House dumpster, Will stood dumbly, staring at his phone in disbelief. Slowly, he returned it to his ear. “I’m sorry, what?” he exclaimed.
“Carrie’s at Longbourn,” Katerina repeated. “She thinks she’s in disguise—some horribl
e wig—but I recognized her. I should leak the pictures I got of her looking like a madwoman. She stole my cab at the hotel.”
“But we were meeting in New York in two days,” he cried. “Why come here?”
“Remember what I said about her obsession, darling? I was speaking the fucking truth.” She sucked her teeth in distaste. “That girl is probably skulking around your school, trying to weasel your address out of poor Lee or some such.”
Will made a noise of supreme irritation and began to pace. “She has to be stopped!”
“Don’t worry, darling,” Katerina soothed. “I’ll handle her. You just be ready to have that meeting with her tomorrow.”
“Just let me know when and where.” Will was fully confident in his agent’s abilities, especially when she had some sort of advantage.
“Right now, go salvage your night,” she advised. “Spend time with that new girlfriend of yours—the good one.”
“That’s a great idea. I’m going to find Ella right now.” Will smiled to himself. “By the way, I’ve made our relationship public—at least on campus. If Carrie is around looking for a reunion, she’ll be in for a nasty shock.”
“That will serve her right,” Katerina laughed. “And as for your girlfriend, I’ll do my best to protect her privacy.”
“Thanks,” Will replied before disconnecting the call. He then returned inside to find EJ.
The next day’s meeting/showdown was held at 9:00 a.m., in the bland conference room of a nearby Holiday Inn Express. He hoped the time and location would tell Carrie that this conversation was strictly business. At the appointed time, she swanned in, up to her usual standard: casual perfection in a diaphanous top, supertight jeans, and sunglasses, indoors. She paused at the doorframe for admiration. Will regarded her with the flat eyes of a cobra.
Shortly after Katerina’s phone call last night, Will had found EJ wiping down the same table over and over. It took some coaxing, but she eventually revealed the whole of her run-in with Carrie. While she hadn’t scared EJ away, his ex had succeeded in putting a damper on both EJ’s and Will’s triumphs. It took a vodka strawberry malt (from Cousin Nicky’s), twenty minutes of piano duets, and making out during most of Center Stage to recover the happiness from hours before. Will’s feelings toward Carrie had moved from confused vexation to seething anger.
Seemingly unaware of his hostility, Carrie approached him with open arms. “Hello, sweetness!” she cooed. “Isn’t this a marvelous coincidence—”
He deftly avoided the embrace and pointed to where Katerina was waiting. “Sit,” he softly ordered, gesturing to one side of the conference room table. Disappointed but not fully deterred, she took a seat opposite Will and pouted a little. Katerina, whom Carrie had yet to acknowledge, spoke with unmasked irritation.
“Young lady, you asked for this meeting and paid quite a bit of money for the privilege. What do you want?” the older woman demanded tersely.
The celebrity removed her sunglasses to glare at Katerina before turning pleading eyes to Will. “I was hoping we could speak privately.”
“Why?” he barked, leaning back in the squeaking office chair. “There’s nothing we have to say to each other that doesn’t involve business. Also, you should be a little more respectful. Katerina is the only reason you and I are speaking in any capacity.”
“So it’s true?” Carrie cried, voice rising. “You’ve found someone else!”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’ve got about five hundred miles of nerve,” he growled. It was a phrase he’d picked up from EJ, who went slightly southern when irritated. “Do not insult my intelligence and act like you didn’t harass and berate my girlfriend last night.”
“She told you?” Carrie exclaimed.
“Yes, she did; what does she owe you?” Will shot back. “Besides, we don’t keep important things from each other.”
“Well, your ‘Ella’ or whatever was no angel, either,” Carrie began. “And since when do you go for girls built like Serena Williams? You can’t make that body type chic.”
Will felt his face flush. “Do not speak of her, Carrie,” he warned. “She’s worth ten of you.” He sat forward and placed both arms on the table. “In fact, the subject of my personal life is wholly off limits to you. We haven’t been anything to each other since you dumped me by proxy, and I am happy with the status quo. The only reason I’m here is because Katerina said you wouldn’t leave her alone.” He sat back and folded his arms. “Now, with that established, why are we here?”
Taking in Will’s, then Katerina’s hard expressions, Carrie shrugged off her hopes of reconciliation. “I need intelligence—to get it or to date it,” she said plainly. “Somehow my little mishap at the Super Bowl sparked the perception that I’m dumb. All of a sudden every blooper-reel flub or giggly interview has stopped reading ‘cute’ and started reading ‘drooling idiot.’”
Katerina turned to Will. “This is about what I expected,” she said.
“But why me?” he broke in.
“Right now, you’ve got an air of sophistication that you just can’t buy, and you’re actually smart. I need a part of that,” the blonde replied. “But you know,” she began slyly, “I’m still a much, much bigger star than you. Whatever my current troubles, I have the best team in the business. This would be less of a favor to me—”
Katerina broke in, cutting off the actress’s attempt at charm. “Carrie’s immediate prospects are too married, too short, or too unknown,” she said. “And with your prior connection, you’re her best shot for an easy image rehab.”
Across the table, Carrie looked from Katerina to Will again before saying, “Essentially, yes.”
“Right.” The agent started scrolling down the screen of her iPad. “My client has made the impossibility of a romantic relationship clear, but we could move forward with the appearance of a business-centered platonic friendship.”
“A heavy stress on ‘appearance,’” Will interjected coldly.
Katerina continued. “Young lady, if I’ve recognized you, then there’s no doubt someone has already tipped off TMZ or some such by now. We need to explain your presence here—separate and apart from Will. I’ve done a little research, and one of your biggest fans is here at Longbourn. According to her Instagram, she wants to be a triple threat, like you. She’s been defending you on Twitter like it’s her job since you separated yourself from Johnny. She’s also in the school’s prestigious drama showcase tomorrow afternoon. It’s a matinee, so Sir Titus’s producer friends can be back in SoHo for a late dinner.
“Here’s what will happen: You’ll surprise her, congratulate her, take a selfie with her. Show your fans that you reward loyalty; show everyone else that smart people can still respect your talent. If anyone asks us, we’ll say you and Will had a mature discussion before you came and that you’re working on an exciting new project together.”
“Which is?” Carrie impatiently drummed her pointy acrylic nails on the table.
Katerina handed Carrie a small binder. “You’re signing on as a producer for Will’s PBS show for children. You will provide the following amount”—she slid a folded piece of paper across to Carrie—“and a theme song. You are otherwise silent. Your name will be in the credits, and you will look like you care about education and the arts.”
Carrie gave a slight flinch at the number on the page.
“Oh, come now,” Katerina said. “That would barely cover your shoe budget for the year. It’s really a bargain.” The older woman smoothed the lapels of her blazer. “Calm yourself and consider.”
Carrie rocked in her chair. “It could work,” she said.
“It will, but only if you agree to our next condition,” Katerina replied. “That you, or more accurately, your team owes us a year of favors, no questions asked. I pick up the phone, I send an email, they move my mountain.”
Carrie flicked her long blonde braid over one shoulder. “Just for Will,” she interjected.
“For
my roster,” Katerina corrected. “Your team is indeed the best at launching a career, but Will won’t need their help by summer; he’s got momentum. You remember what that’s like, dear.” Katerina smirked slightly. Will stifled a laugh. It was nice to be on this side of the ambush.
Carrie rubbed her temples, probably thinking of how she could spin this to her momager. “Anything else I can do for you? Would you like my firstborn?”
Oh shit. Will shot Carrie a warning look. Katerina did not enjoy being sassed. The older woman didn’t need his help, though. She simply folded her hands and fixed Carrie with a hard, unwavering stare until the singer/actress whispered an apology. Then, after one slow blink of recognition, Katerina spoke again.
“One more thing, Carrie—not a proposal, just a suggestion: no public boyfriends for at least six months. A smart woman can stand on her own two feet. Conversely, there is nothing people respect less than a woman defined by men.”
Carrie swallowed audibly. Will suppressed a chuckle. They both knew abstinence wasn’t precisely in her nature. Less kind people had put Carrie’s name and nymphomaniac in the same sentence. Will would never do such a thing, though; he was a progressive, sex-positive man.
Reading the room, Katerina clarified her advice. “I understand. You’re young, you like sex. So have lots of sex, but be discreet. Someone not in the public eye. A friend with benefits?” She tapped her pen thoughtfully. “Or better, someone you can control, a gigolo.”
Will quietly snorted a laugh.
“What? They have their uses,” Katerina said.
Carrie rolled her eyes. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she replied crisply. “Any other terms of this deal? Conditions?”
“Yes,” Will replied shortly. “You stay the hell away.”
Carrie started and looked at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”
He stood up and leaned halfway across the table. “Stay away from my girlfriend, my friends, my family—anyone in my personal sphere. I will appear friendly in public, but that’s all. Remember, we are not really friends.”
The Bennet Women Page 24