D.O.R.K. Series Box Set

by Haley Allison

on it.” “Ah, I see.”

  Throughout the rest of the interview, amidst questions about fashion choices and favorite colors, I’m seething with anger. Raven didn’t get probed at this interview, so why should I? It’s almost like they were trying to set us up to fight. Luckily, they didn’t get their wish, and Raven and I don’t plan on letting that happen at all.

  After the interview, I head back to the hotel room with plans to shut out the rest of the world for the next sixteen hours. I’ve already settled into bed in nothing but athletic shorts and a spaghetti strap tank with a built-in bra when Raven texts me.

  Raven: I need you downtown. My New York friends want to meet you.

  Her demanding text ends with a random street address. My eyebrow pulls up of its own accord. She “needs me downtown”? She thinks she can just order me to go where she wants me when she wants me?

  Me: What’s in it for me?

  Raven: Liquor. Boys. Dancing. Music. Did I mention boys?

  I half-grin in amusement. She makes a good case.

  I guess she’s taking me to a party or a club.

  Me: Very well. Dress code?

  Raven: Mini-dress and stilettos. We don’t have to match for this, but if you can manage a side pony we can keep up the twin vibe.

  Me: Will do. Be there ASAP.

  I glance around at my plush, warm, inviting bed and groan. I love going clubbing, but truth be told, I enjoy staying home and watching TV a lot more than the wildness of a club. Especially now that I spend all day with people, I’m finding I’m more of a homebody than I ever suspected.

  However, sexy club boys would help me get my mind off of Gio. Yes, please.

  After getting dressed and primping a satisfactory amount, I call our driver and ride for half an hour into the hub of Manhattan. As I gaze out the tinted window at my surroundings, the contrast of the blaring electric lights against the dark night sky invigorates me. Even though I’m stuck inside a limo, I can sense the energy of the people buzzing up and down the streets. This city’s vibe is almost tangible. It sucks you in and won’t let you go. All I want to do is enjoy the opportunity to party here tonight. No politics, no media…just me in an amazing new place.

  The driver parks close to the club and comes around to the door to let me out. People waiting outside in line murmur at the sight of me. I blush a little as I move to join the VIP line with Raven and her friends. The line’s pretty long, but I’m about to cut in front of all these people just because of who I am. I never thought I’d be seen as the spoiled rich girl, but here I am killing it.

  On my way to join the line, I make abrupt contact with an extremely solid chest. I startle and sway atop my sky-high black stilettos and a strong arm with a green dragon tattoo on it catches me. The young guy I just slammed into so ungracefully chuckles as he rights me.

  “I am so sorry, Miss, I didn’t—” He gasps when he pulls back to examine me. I feel almost as startled when I look up into a pair of gorgeous green eyes that match his tattoo. This guy is what some girls would call a stud. I call him a delicious piece of eye candy. His cheekbones are high and defined and he has a jaw that could have easily been sculpted by

  Michelangelo. He’s like my ideal guy come to life.

  He rakes his hand through his chocolate brown hair and stammers, “Are…are you Madison Daley?” My stomach jumps. I don’t know if I should feel flattered or scared that he recognized me so easily. “Yeah, that’s me.” I make an awkward hand gesture directed toward myself and chuckle nervously.

  His mouth bursts into a grin and he echoes my breathy laughter. “Holy shit! I’m so sorry I ran into you…but at the same time I’m not sorry. You’re just as gorgeous in person.”

  “Thanks!” I smile so wide it makes my cheeks hurt. “I’m sorry, it was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “Believe me, you can bump into me anytime.

  I’m…kind of a fan,” he says with a chuckle. “Really?” I squeak.

  “Yeah. You’re amazing. I love watching your interviews.”

  “Wow…thanks. I haven’t really done anything amazing yet, but thanks.”

  “Are you kidding? Organizing that reunion made you everybody’s hero. W3 needed to come back

  together. The fans love you for it.”

  I’m sure my face is beet red, but luckily the lighting is so dim out here he probably doesn’t notice. “It was nothing.”

  Still unable to wipe the grin off his face, he stares at me as if to convince himself I’m real. “What are you doing here at this dump?”

  “Dump?” I glance around him and peer into the open doorway, which is alive with lights and music.

  “It doesn’t look like a dump to me.”

  “Well, I guess that opinion results from me working here. I’m a bartender,” he explains.

  Meeting his eyes, I feel my cheeks heat again. “You’re too hot to be a bartender,” I blurt out.

  He giggles like a schoolboy with a crush on his professor. “Thanks. I don’t deserve that compliment, but thanks.”

  “You do deserve it. What’s your name?”

  “Oh, how rude of me.” His right bicep bulges as he stretches out his arm to shake my hand. “I’m—” “Madison!” Raven glares at me from her place in line. “Are you going to spend all night chatting up strangers on the street, or are you going to join our group?”

  I chomp down on my lower lip and shoot my mystery guy an apologetic look. “I’m sorry—” “Don’t be, I understand.” His incredible eyes narrow as he smiles. “Have a great night, Madison

  Daley. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  Before I can stop him to ask him his name, he takes off down the street, looking back over his shoulder at me to wave. I wave back and watch him retreat, wishing I had an excuse to run into that wonderful chest again.

  I sigh regretfully and shove by club patrons to join Raven and her comrades in line. Without even listening to her forced greeting or introductions, I robotically mutter my how-do-you-dos and keep my mind trained on the guy I just crashed into and lost all in the same moment. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but vibes at first sight are totally a thing. Mr. Dragon Tattoo and I were vibing hard for each other. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. Probably not…a meeting like that can only happen once in a lifetime.

  After all, I just met my first fan.

  August 3

  I Hate Spill! Magazine

  So it turns out I definitely should have told the interviewer from Spill! Magazine that Gio meant something to me. My denial of depth gave her the fuel she needed to paint me as a loose party girl. She somehow dug up pictures of me at a club and referred to me as Raven’s “wild” sister.

  What the hell?

  If anyone’s wild around here, it’s definitely Raven, not me. We went to a club together last night and she was grinding up against every eligible guy there. She supposedly has a boyfriend, although she won’t tell anybody who it is, but I doubt that’s going to last long at this rate. I guess they want to keep things on the down low because of the press since she isn’t telling anyone his name.

  I don’t mind going to clubs with Raven—which is apparently going to happen a lot—but I do mind being painted as a party girl all the time. It’s just not who I am. I would like to have a real relationship one day, and when I do, I don’t want to have to work extra hard to win a guy’s trust because he thinks I’m a huge whore. Between the pool pictures and Gio and now this, I kind of want to swear off the media altogether, but of course I can’t. Now that I’ve stepped into the spotlight, I’m locked in for life.

  It seems a conflict has begun: Raven and me vs. the media. Raven’s a powerhouse—she knows how to wrap these people around her little finger, but me? I could be the downfall of this whole operation.

  I was not prepared to talk about Gio. I’ve been shoving that pain so far down I had almost forgotten it was there. Now I’m aching again over a guy who never saw me as anything more than a crush
or someone to fool around with. That’s the real reason I broke up with him. I thought it was because of Raven at the time, but the truth is I was hurt because he called me his “crush” on the red carpet instead of something more committal.

  Giovanni Abate could have any girl he wants. He probably has hundreds of crushes. He told everyone I was there on the red carpet because of a bet, not because we had been making out all summer and talking about our lives and shared love of video games. I thought I meant something to him, but that’s obviously not the case, so I think I was right to call it a summer fling. That’s what it was to him, after all.

  Fuck what the rest of the world thinks. I am on this press tour for one reason only. I was promised by Jess she’d come forward with the truth and get rid of the Basket Baby label for good, and so far she’s stayed true to her word. If I can just make it through

  the rest of this week and the London trip without incident, I think everything will turn out all right.

  Time to get out of bed and face another long day of interviews. Fingers crossed I don’t screw anything else up. We’re starting the day with brunch with Jess and Raven. I’m not sure if I’m more nervous for that or the interviews.

  Ttyl,

  Mads

  The fine dining establishment Jess selected for brunch is beyond my wildest dreams. As we pass by table after table, my mouth waters with the sights and smells of what we’re about to be served. Fresh fruit, omelets, muffins…it’s almost too much to handle when you wait until ten-thirty a.m. to eat and then you have to be tortured by all this food while you wait.

  Dad and I automatically pull out chairs next to each other when the dressed-to-the-nines waiter brings us to a table, but then Jess holds up a hand to stop us.

  “I thought perhaps I could sit alone with Madison today if that’s all right with you, Michael. You and Cassidy can take this time to get to know Raven.”

  I glance over at Dad, who swallows and shrugs, giving me the reins of this decision. Heart racing, I clear my throat. “I dunno—”

  “Oh, come now. I don’t bite.” Jess chuckles stiffly, her smile dying in her eyes when she sees my apprehension.

  After one more fruitless pleading glance in Dad’s direction, I reluctantly nod and follow Jess to another table, dreading the assuredly awkward hour of conversation to come.

  The waiter comes to the table a few minutes later. Jess orders hot tea and I ask for orange juice. After the waiter leaves, I fumble with my napkin on the table, trying to leave the silverware arrangement intact as I transfer the napkin to my lap. When Jess clears her throat, I glance up at her and a sharp steak knife falls in my lap, narrowly avoiding slicing my hand open. Both of us startle and suck in strangled gasps.

  “Oh goodness, darling, are you all right?” Jess immediately jumps up from her place at the table and rushes around to check on me, sitting on her heels.

  My hand shakes a little as I lift the knife back up to its place on the table and flash her a weak smile.

  “Fine, thanks. Just missed me.”

  Jess blows out a sharp sigh of relief. “My, that was

  a bit traumatic, wasn’t it?” Her trademark chuckle bubbles up from her throat. It’s that typical refined movie star laugh that sounds melodious and narcissistic all at once.

  My jaw tightens. “Yeah, that’s the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me,” I spit with bitter sarcasm.

  Her radiant smile dims. She pushes down on the table as she stands to her feet and slinks back over to her seat. Not long after she’s settled, the waiter returns with our drinks, and we tell him we need a little more time to decide on our food orders. As we mull over our menus, Jess taps her finger nervously on the table, making the silverware ring ever so slightly.

  I never thought I’d have the power to make Jessica Charity Redinger nervous. Right now, she’s trembling in my presence instead of the other way around. Life never ceases to amaze me with its irony.

  Jess shifts uncomfortably and finally breaks the silence. “Look, Madison, I…I know this is still hard. I know you haven’t forgiven me, and I don’t expect you to, but I brought you over here because I want to help you.”

  I meet her gaze and find concern etched into her features.

  “The press has clearly already selected you as a target,” Jess continues. “I know that is partially my fault. If you’ll permit me, I’d like to help you navigate the rest of this press tour. There are certain ways to ensure that nothing you want kept secret gets out and they say exactly what you want them to say. For your own safety and well-being, I think you’d be wise to let me guide you through this…although I understand, of course, if you still don’t trust me.”

  Her gaze drops to the filigreed silver spoon in her tea. Jess looks vulnerable, almost shy in this moment. I don’t know if this is an act or if she’s serious, but right now I don’t care. Jessica “Jacie” Redinger, the queen of positive press, just offered to help me deal with the media. It’s an offer I can’t refuse.

  “I don’t trust you,” I state calmly. She doesn’t even flinch or look up. “But I’m in. I need all the help I can get.”

  Jess makes eye contact with a gentle smile tugging at her lips. Throughout the rest of our brunch, Jess educates me on handling interviews and paparazzi and I hang on her every word, hungry for information on this new food chain I’ve joined.

  One thing she says especially sticks out to me:

  “You are not under oath in these interviews. They don’t have a right to your deepest thoughts and feelings. If they ask something too personal, don’t give them your truest answer. Perhaps a couple steps up from that, but what you feel in your core belongs to you and you alone.”

  Normally I’d flinch at someone telling me to lie, but that was her way of setting me free. I’m definitely taking this to heart, especially since another big name is about to welcome us into their lair in T-minus sixty minutes.

  Our next interview is a family affair. The magazine wants shots of Dad, Jess, Raven, and me all together. The photo shoot goes well, but then we all sit down in a room to be interrogated again and my palms grow damp. Jess purposely takes a seat next to me and offers me her hand for support. I stare down at it, fighting an inner battle.

  Am I ready to hold her hand yet? Part of me wants to shake my head and refuse her, but the other part is scared of the stern woman with red-rimmed glasses sitting across from us who has her eyes fixated on me. I wipe my hand on my skirt to dry it, and then for the first time in my life, I reach out and take my mother’s hand for support. I’m surprised at how bony her hands are and suddenly realize she’s even thinner than me. The bones in her face are very prominent.

  Dad shoots me a quizzical look from across the room. I mouth “later” and turn my attention toward the interviewer again.

  The interviewer takes a lot of time in the beginning to talk to Dad and Jess, clarifying the story they were told. She appears shocked at Jess’s in person confession that yes, she did abandon me and then kidnap me. I watch Jess as she rebounds all the questions with poise, being honest but somehow managing to paint the current situation in a positive light.

  “My past isn’t something I’m proud of,” Jess admits, “but people change and grow as they mature. I’d like to think that’s what I’ve done, although it remains to be seen what my relationship with my youngest daughter will be like.”

  Youngest? I glance at Jess with a question in my eyes. She nods and smiles. Apparently, I was the second born out of the twins. I wonder if that’s why she selected me to go live with my father…

  That morbid train of thought is interrupted when the interviewer calls me to attention.

  “Madison, how do you think your relationship with your mother will be now that things are out in the open?”

  Gulp. That was another doozy of a question.

  Jess squeezes my hand in support. As I stare at our hands intertwined between our leather armrests, I hear her words from our brunch in my head. “Don
’t give them your truest answer. Perhaps a couple steps up from that, but what you feel in your core belongs to you and you alone.”

  In my core, I have no idea how I really feel about myself and Jess. She’s basically a stranger to me. I don’t even know what we have in common or if I’ll ever forgive her for what she did. However, I don’t think this person whom I know even less than Jess deserves that information.

  I clear my throat and smile at the woman as I respond. “There’s still a lot to be worked through, but I think we’re on the right track.”

  That was a few levels up from the truth on the “lie” ladder, but it was a fair response. Jess nods in approval, smiling at me as the interview goes on.

  That question is followed by a bunch of easy ones about my childhood and what it was like to grow up as the Grim Weeper’s daughter. I release Jess’s hand as I tell the story of the hay-surfing incident that ended with my crooked jaw. The interviewer actually laughs at my story. When I tell her Dad was cheering me on as I did it, she doesn’t seem surprised, and the conversation turns to Dad’s wild antics while he was at the top of his career. I never knew he bungee jumped off a skyscraper before now, but it seems that was his style back in his twenties.

  The three of us talk and laugh while Raven sits back in her chair with a fake smile glued onto her face. Most people probably think she’s enjoying the conversation as much as we are, but I can tell she’s second-guessing her decision to share the spotlight with me. After a while, I subtly include her in the conversation and the interviewer turns her way to discuss her feelings about the situation. Raven lights up the room with her natural poise and charisma. As

  I watch her, I can’t help but think she’d be a pleasure to hang around if she wasn’t so insufferable at times. Maybe we both have something to contribute to each other. Only time will tell.

  August 5

  Almost Done

  I am so ready to be done with this part of our summer trip. So ready to fly across the ocean for the first time and see the Old World. I would have loved exploring New York City if it weren’t for the photographers that seem to magically pop up out of nowhere every time I finally start to enjoy myself.