Hailey couldn’t help herself. She snickered at Simon’s histrionics, letting out the laugh as a sort of pressure-release from all the tension she was feeling, both for the bookstore and for herself. All three of them looked over at her.
“Well, hello,” Simon said, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Who have we here?”
“Nobody’s supposed to be back here,” Miles said, almost simultaneously, standing protectively in front of Jake. Simon flanked him. It actually made her feel better, to see the other two looking out for him.
But Jake had gotten a glimpse of her before they’d created their human wall. “Hailey?” Jake stood in a fluid motion, his eyes lighting. “I didn’t think I’d see you today. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yup, here I am.” She hated that her voice sounded a little hesitant. “Thought we should talk.”
“Um, well, it’s time we went up to our rooms. Get ready for tonight’s VIP dinner,” Miles said, then nudged Simon.
“I don’t have to go anywhere,” Simon countered, walking up to her and holding a hand out. “Simon. Nice to meet you. Hailey, was it? You seem familiar.”
She grinned. Apparently, the tabloids saying the guy was a total man-whore weren’t wrong. He was charming, and obviously loved women.
“You do have to go somewhere,” Miles said, grabbing Simon’s shoulder and shoving him toward the door.
“What? I wasn’t even going to change my clothes.”
“You have to do the thing,” Miles said. “Remember?”
“What thing?” Simon protested.
“The thing where you don’t cock-block your friend,” Miles hissed, shoving him toward the door. When the door opened, Hailey could hear women shriek.
“Ladies!” Simon called out, the smile clear in his enthusiastic tone. “What have we . . .” It was cut off as the door closed, leaving her alone in the room with Jake.
She turned to him, hands in her pockets. “Um, I wanted to talk.”
“I’m glad. I didn’t have your number, and I really, really wanted to apologize,” he said, surprising her. “You were right. I was an asshole last night. It wasn’t any of my business, and you were obviously in a hurry. I thought maybe you were just not thinking clearly, or you didn’t think you could ask me for help, but I crossed a line with the he-man crap. The more I thought about it afterward, the more I realized you had something serious going on, and the last thing you needed was my interference.”
She felt a bubble of relief—and guilt. “It’s okay. Really.”
“I guess that I’ve just been burned a lot,” he said. “I know, that’s not a good enough excuse. But I hope you’ll give me another chance, let me make it up to you.”
The guilt intensified, which was weird. He was handing himself to her on a platter. She couldn’t have gotten a better response from him if she’d schemed it herself.
“Do you forgive me?”
“Well, yes.” She frowned, then shrugged. Best to be honest. “I do want something from you, though.”
He froze. Then grinned. “I want something from you, too.” He started to reach for her.
She evaded, holding up her hand. “No. I mean, not that I’m not interested there, too,” she admitted, as a quick memory of the previous night—and what they’d almost done—flooded her mind. Damn, was she interested. “But I do want something else from you. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
Now his expression looked like a cross between eagerness and wariness. “What can I do?”
“I’ve got . . . well, my family’s got a bookstore,” she said, slowly.
How much to tell him? She didn’t want to spill the whole thing. Cressida’s life was hard enough, and the trauma behind Cress’s circumstances wasn’t her secret to tell, anyway. But she could share some details.
“Our landlord raised our rent in January. The bookstore was barely making it beforehand, but now we’re running in the red and getting behind on bills.”
God, the shame of it was like drinking battery acid. She swallowed painfully.
“We’re, um, thinking of rebranding it, making it a fandom bookstore. You know, one that caters to geeky genres and a really strict niche. For women, though. Geek girls.”
He shrugged, his previous warmth starting to chill. “How, exactly, do you need my help?”
“If you could do an appearance before you go back to Vancouver, it’d be huge,” she said. “It would make a noticeable difference. Especially if you could announce it during this conference. It would go a long way toward helping us build our financial solvency.”
“So. You want me to do an appearance, because your family business is failing.”
She nodded.
He took a deep breath. “And did you know about this before or after you and I almost slept together?”
It was as effective as a slap. “It has nothing to do with what happened last night. Why I left, I mean.” At his skeptical glance, she narrowed her eyes. “Trust me, buddy, if I were trying to run a number on you, I would’ve hit you up when I had your pants off.”
That surprised a bark of laughter out of him, but he was shaking his head, and she felt her heart drop. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to do any non-sanctioned appearances.”
She felt disappointment and anxiety start to bubble in her chest, but she pushed forward doggedly. “Why not?”
“I’m in contract negotiations,” he said, and he just sounded tired. “And frankly, I’m trying to boost my Q Score, I’m trying to save my job. I can’t afford to blow it.”
“Couldn’t you ask them?” she pressed. “It’s charitable. Could be good publicity.”
“My agent wouldn’t go for it,” he said.
She felt a burn of frustration. “The agent works for you, doesn’t he?” she said sharply.
“She, not he. Was that all?” he asked with some challenge of his own.
She groaned, seeing the opportunity slip away. This was the best, and quickest, idea that she’d had. She wasn’t going to lose the chance now. She was going to help Cressida.
“Maybe one of the other guys could help me, then?” she asked, keeping her voice level.
“I’ll ask.” He stood, gestured to the door.
This sucked. Well and truly sucked. Before the panic, and the stupidity, of last night, she’d really enjoyed the time they’d spent together. Now, seeing him closed off and hurt because of her question, she felt—well, she wasn’t sure how she felt, only that it wasn’t good.
“What are you going to do about that Q Score of yours?” she asked, unwilling to leave just yet.
“Hailey, you don’t have to ask. I can’t imagine it’s that interesting.” He shot her a sardonic smirk. “I mean, do you really care? You’ve got enough on your plate, right?”
That made her stiffen. “I do want your help, but you were the one who acted like an ass first. Yeah, I’m asking you for a favor. You can’t, or won’t, no problem. I’ll figure it out, believe me.”
There was enough snap in her voice to have his eyes widening. She tried tempering her tone, but then thought: fuck it.
“I’m not one of those fawning groupies,” she said, and her voice took on an edge. “If you don’t want to talk about it, if you want me to go to hell, that’s fine. But goddamn it, I genuinely asked.”
He sighed, then rubbed his hands over his face. He looked exhausted. “Well, it seems like I’m about to be fired from this job.”
“I heard the question. The blogger.”
“I really like it, working on the show,” he said. “If they want me to do the VIPs, even when they rip at my clothes, I do it. If they want me to dress up like a Labrador and dance the Macarena, I’d do it.”
She nodded ruefully. I know those feels, bro.
“But I don’t know how to . . . do that . . . publicity thing,” he said. “Not well, obviously.”
“Stupid question: can’t you hire a publicist?”
He frowned. “I had one for a while. Or rather, my f
ather assigned one to me.”
“What? It didn’t take?”
“She wanted me to be someone I wasn’t,” Jake said, and she could see the memories clouding his face. “I was supposed to be seen. I went to a bunch of parties. I hated it. I didn’t care about anything they were talking about. I got drunk plenty of times, but I wasn’t into drugs. And the stuff I was interested in, nobody else was.”
“What are you interested in? “
“I don’t know. Hiking, surfing, camping. And just talking about things.” He looked frustrated. “My publicist said she couldn’t work with it, wanted me to be something I wasn’t. I cared about more than just who was sleeping with whom, and getting my next part.” His shoulders hunched, and his frown made him look like an angsty gunslinger. “My agent thinks if I got the right girlfriend, it might help.”
“So do that,” she said. “Easy-peasy.”
He shook his head vehemently. “For one thing, it feels wretched. Bit too much like being a hooker.”
She felt one of her eyebrows pop up, and she knew she was throwing him some epic shade, but damn it, she hated it when people who’d never actually been hookers talked about things like they were. She’d known plenty in L.A., and lots of them were sweethearts. “Oh?”
“Besides, I did try it once before,” he admitted.
Her eyes went wide. “What, you were a hooker?”
“No!” he yelped, letting out a burst of surprised laughter. “The setup girlfriend thing. Two girlfriends ago. She was trying to be the next America’s sweetheart. I was doing the modeling thing,” he said. “I thought she was pretty cool. Until I found her naked, straddling another actor.”
“Oops.” Hailey winced.
“In my house.”
“That’s gotta hurt.”
Jake shrugged. “In my bed.”
“Okay, stop,” Hailey said, chuckling a little. “Next thing you’ll tell me they got married.”
“No, but she did get into his next movie. I don’t know if those events were related, but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.” He sounded bitter. “Anyway, I had another girlfriend after that, but she also just wanted to get a part on the show that I was on, which tanked. Then I got this gig. Been with Mystics for two years, and I love it. Working with Simon and Miles, the writers, getting to be a Knight Templar with magic powers fighting evil, centuries-old aliens fuckin’ rocks.”
She grinned. The smile lighting his face as he described the show was infectious.
He sobered. “I don’t want to lose it.” He paused. “And I’m not sure why I told you all that.”
“I have one of those faces,” she said, easily, and was rewarded when he smiled. “So, anything else you could do?”
“I could go on a huge binge, maybe crash a car, go into rehab,” he joked, shaking his head. “Or, you know, skinny-dip in a hotel pool. Maybe get involved with a married co-star.”
“Or one of your guy co-stars,” she said. “The slash fans would eat it up.”
“Much as I love those guys,” he said, “I don’t, you know, love those guys. And I don’t think either of them want to take one for the team. I’m not their type, either.”
She smirked, nudging him gently. “Well, all you’re looking for is a story. Something the fans want to see. Something to get them talking.”
And then it struck her.
The perfect con.
“You’re trying to become an integral part of the fans’ lives. Why don’t you date a fan?”
He looked at her in horror. “One of those women yanked the pocket off my jeans,” he said. “Denim. That actually takes some significant strength. That lady must’ve had arms like an orangutan.”
“I’m not saying date that one, specifically!”
“With my luck, I’d get involved with someone who then keeps me chained in her basement.”
“Be nice,” she said. “You have to respect your fans, especially if you want them to respect you. It’s a great show, and you’re great on it.”
“I know. Sorry. I’m being a dick,” he admitted. “I just . . . I can’t just proposition some fangirl, and ask her to keep mum about why. It wouldn’t be fair to her, either.”
Hailey grinned, seeing the game laid out in front of her—a way to help both of them.
“I’ve got the perfect solution,” she said, her smile slowly widening. “Pretend to date me.”
* * *
Jake stared at Hailey, a surreal feeling of numbness hitting him.
“You want me to pretend to date you,” he repeated, as if that might make it make more sense.
“Look, it’s not that complicated,” she said, her indigo eyes flashing with excitement. “You haven’t been dating anyone, and there’s some curiosity. You let it leak that you’re dating a fan, someone you met at a convention. The first Mystics con, in fact. You’re trying to keep it a secret.”
“I must be really bad at it, then,” he muttered, still trying to wrap his head around the concept. “Because if I keep it a secret, it’s not going to help my Q Score much.”
She rolled her eyes, sighing. The deep breath did nice things for her breasts, which were already straining against her blouse. It was a black blouse with lots of cherries on it, he noticed. Of course, he noticed more than the cherries.
“Flattering, but eyes up here, buddy,” she said with an indulgent smile. “The things that spread are always the things that are supposed to be secret, trust me.”
“So you’re a publicist, too?” he asked. “Is that what you do for your bookstore?”
“God, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Business is all Rachel’s wheelhouse—that’s my sister. Well, half sister,” she added absently.
“So how do you know this will work?”
“Because I used to run cons.”
He blinked. “Run cons? Conventions?”
“No. Cons. Confidence games.” He must’ve looked as puzzled as he felt, because she rolled her eyes. “Con artist. Get it?”
“Like The Sting, or something? You’re a grafter?”
“Grifter. Nothing so sophisticated,” she said. “And I said ‘used to.’ Past tense.”
“What made you stop?” He felt like he’d fallen down a serious rabbit hole. Or perhaps someone slipped him some ’shrooms. He wouldn’t put it past Simon, prankster that he was.
“Juvie,” she answered, with a shrug. “After that, Grandma Frost found me, brought me up here from Los Angeles. I didn’t really need to run any after that.” She rubbed the back of her neck, and he could see her gaze go soft, obviously remembering. “Besides, Grandma said if she caught me conning anybody in town, she’d beat me with a broom.”
He tensed. “Seriously?”
“She didn’t mean it. Probably,” she amended. “It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t need to anymore. But the point—which we’re going a little far afield from,” she emphasized gently, “is that this isn’t really that different from running a con. You’re just trying to get people to behave a certain way, think a certain thing. Trust me. People are interested when fans hook up with famous people, because in their hearts, they’d like to think it’s possible. And people spread secrets because they want to show they know something before other people do. That’s just human nature.”
She sounded so matter of fact. “But it’s still a lie,” he couldn’t help but point out.
That indulgent look was back. “I’ll let you pay for dinners, if it makes you feel better,” she said.
“I hate lying.” He grimaced. “I just hate being fake. Not being real.”
“Okay, I hate to point this out,” she said, “but you’re an actor. You lie for a living.”
“It’s not lying, it’s acting,” he said, then realized how stupid that sounded. “I’m portraying a character.”
She leaned back against a wall, surveying him. “I suppose your previous publicist tried to convince you that you were just playing a role?”
He sighed. “
Yup. Tried that. The thing is, I get to play pretend all day, for my job. But I don’t want to live my job. My life is my reality.”
“Well, you’re going to have plenty of reality if you lose this job, right?”
He winced. Trust her to get straight to the heart of it. “If you put it that way.”
“Listen. I think I can help you. I’m not saying I can work miracles or anything, but I think this is something I can pull off,” she said, her face almost shining with intensity. “If I screw up, and it doesn’t work, well, you lose the job. You don’t have to help me. But if it does work and the contract goes through . . . will you tell your agent you’ll do the appearance?”
He frowned, but felt himself being inexorably drawn in—like the Millennium Falcon toward the Death Star. If the Death Star was a smokin’ hot gothabilly brunette. “What would it entail?”
She smiled, a sly, catlike smile of victory. He felt his body tighten, even as he reflexively threw his guard up. She had a hell of a smile. He could see how she would be dangerous—she could probably rob him blind and he’d help her pack that beast of a car with all of his belongings if given the chance.
So why was he feeling vaguely excited? He hated publicity, but the way she talked about running a con made it sound less like perpetrating a fraud, and more like just having a good time. Playing pretend, having fun.
Kind of like working on Mystics.
Of course, maybe his enthusiasm had to do with the fact that he’d be able to be around her. Sure. That could be it.
“Trust me. Nothing too strenuous,” she said. “The key here is to whet curiosity. You’re attracted to a fan. You’re dating a ‘civilian.’ Once the press gets ahold of it, we’ll work on making more . . . memorable things for them to write about.”
“Define ‘memorable.’”
“Oh, you know. PDAs, maybe double cosplay. Public sex. The usual.”
If his eyebrows jumped up any higher, they’d hit the ceiling. She immediately started laughing.
“Oh, my God, the look on your face,” she said, around a giggle. “Relax, there, chief. I think you’ve already got sexy in the bag. I’d say focusing more on fun is probably the key here. Go for goofy.”
One True Pairing: A Geek Girl Rom Com (Fandom Hearts) Page 8