Five Days of Famous

by Alyson Noel

  Tinsley Barnes took a screen shot of me!

  It was all I needed to hear.

  I looked around the studio and shrugged, like it was no big thing. “We should probably get started. I’ve got a slew of interviews and a photo shoot lined up after this, and then of course we’re shooting the show tonight.”

  She cleared her throat, brushed a hand through her glorious hair. “Ready when you are.” And it’s been nothing but sweet, sweet music ever since.

  Except when it wasn’t.

  The first couple of takes were awful.

  Then we gradually went from truly awful to just plain bad. Until somewhere near the end of the session, we’d reached a point where we didn’t feel like covering our ears and screaming in order to drown ourselves out, which is pretty much when Ezer arrived, listened to a few sets, and told us to call it a day and meet back tomorrow, same time and place.

  Which brings me to today.

  Not only did we sing the song the entire way through without a single flub, but there was no mention or sign of Mac Turtledove, which probably means Tinsley is committed to moving on to bigger and better things—namely, me.

  It also marks the first day since I arrived that we’re not filming a new episode of the Twelve Days of Dashaway Christmas Countdown, since Ezer says they have enough footage to piece something together and everyone deserves a night off.

  All of which is reason enough to celebrate. Which is why I’m throwing a party.

  It’s all part of the plan to take my relationship with Tinsley to the next level. Tonight’s the night I’m going to kiss her.

  Despite all the time we spend in the studio and Tinsley’s increasing appearances on my show, where she’s mostly required to laugh at my jokes and look really cute, we’re never alone long enough for me to show her how I feel about her. Ezer is always right there, which makes it impossible to so much as hold her hand when his beady eyes are always watching us like the world’s most annoying chaperone.

  Well, tonight’s the night when all of that changes.

  When Tinsley sees what I have planned, there’s no way she’ll be able to resist me.

  We’re just wrapping up for the day, both of us gathering our stuff, when I casually say, “Oh, hey, I think I might’ve mentioned I’m having a little get-together tonight. If you’re not busy, you should stop by.”

  Tinsley looks at me sideways, turning away as she mumbles, “From what I heard, it’s hardly a get-together.”

  She’s right about that. It’s about as far from a get-together as one can possibly get. I put my entire team to work on planning, organizing, and making sure everything’s perfect. It’s costing me some serious bank too. But if it earns the kind of rewards I’m after, it’ll be money well spent.

  Still, I just shrug and say, “Feel free to swing by around eight.” Thereby following the number two rule of playing it cool, which is to not look too excited about anything, ever. Better to just sit back and assume all good things are coming to you. Which is exactly why celebrities rarely smile in selfies—they know it’s far better to look bored than excited.

  But when she doesn’t reply or even acknowledge that she heard me, I realize for the very first time that she might actually choose not to come by.

  Which would defeat the whole purpose of throwing an elaborate party.

  Which makes me break out in an immediate sweat.

  “Mmm, I don’t know, Nick.” She tosses her bag over her shoulder. “Ezer wants us back here bright and early, and you know how he gets when we’re overtired or late or, God forbid, both.” She exits the studio and opts to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, which, granted, is known to be slow, but still, the way she races down the steps, the soles of her sandals making loud clacking sounds, makes me wonder if she’s trying to ditch me, which only increases the sweating.

  I’m right on her heels. The thud of my sneakers slamming the stairs sounds as hollow and desperate as I currently feel. “Just because Ezer was born middle-aged doesn’t mean we have to act that way too.” I try not to sound winded and panicky but don’t really succeed. “Bring him along if it makes you feel better,” I add, instantly wishing I hadn’t. “I’d hate for you to miss it, Tins—it’s gonna be epic.”

  She reaches the ground floor, pauses before the smudgy glass entry door, and pulls her lips in, like she’s sneaking a taste of her vanilla lip gloss while she considers her options.

  “Heck, bring Ezer and a friend—the more the merrier!” I cry, having made the full transition from panicked to pathetic. “What’s your boyfriend’s name again?” I arrange my face to look like I’m struggling to remember, even though I’m unlikely to ever forget the name that’s haunted me since my Gymboree days.

  She squints. Tilts her head to the side. “You mean Mac?”

  I hold my breath, waiting to see what comes next. Will she confirm they’re still together? Make a face and laugh, telling me she and Turtledove are officially over?

  The seconds tick past.

  The silence drags.

  “Well…maybe…,” she finally says. “I have some stuff to do at home…and I’m not sure Ezer will want to go, so I’ll need someone to drive me….” She places her palm on the door and gives it a shove.

  “I’ll send the limo!” I speak the words so quickly, it’s clear to both of us I’ve just willingly forfeited every last trace of cool. “Believe me, Sparks won’t mind.” I cross my arm over hers as though I’m trying to do the polite thing by getting to the door first, when mostly I’m trying to close this deal before she can get in Ezer’s waiting car, start texting Mac, and forget I exist.

  “You’d do that?” She studies me, her face so close I can make out every individual eyelash, every single blue fleck in her irises, and yet it’s impossible to read what she’s thinking.

  “Sure,” I say. “Why not?” Hardly able to believe I just offered Tinsley and Mac the use of my limo.

  She continues to stare, all the while doing this twisty thing with her lips. “Mmm, okay…,” she finally agrees, which isn’t exactly the enthusiastic response I was after.

  “Great, it starts at eight.” I leave her with that, not wanting to drag this out any further and give her a chance to change her mind. I head for the limo, where Sparks holds back a crush of the exact same fans who wait in the exact same spot every day on the off chance I might profess my undying love and marry one of them.

  All the while I’m replaying the conversation in my head and arriving at the startling conclusion that I’ve been fooling myself all along.

  Tinsley’s been in charge the whole time.

  OPERATION MISTLETOE

  By 8:35 the music is blaring, my house is packed wall-to-wall with people, and yet all I can do is pace before the front windows, so focused on Tinsley’s arrival I can’t even enjoy my own party.

  “Dude, what gives?” Dougall comes up from behind me and shoves a red plastic cup into my hand. “You are missing some truly epic events going down by the pool.”

  I take a sip from the cup, then spit it right back.

  “What’s the problem, bro? It’s just Mojo—your drink of choice.” He laughs. “I may have doctored yours up a bit, but that’s only to help you relax. You’re gonna burn a hole in that carpet if you don’t put the brakes on.”

  I return the cup, more than a little annoyed with my friend. The last thing I need is to kiss Tinsley with messed-up-Mojo breath. Dougall knows just how important this night is. Heck, I pretty much let him plan it. Since I’ve been spending so much time with Tinsley in the recording studio, I thought it’d be good for him to have something to do other than bug me while I’m trying to work.

  Dougall ditches the cup on a side table and turns back to me. “Uh, I hate to break it to you, but this party was your idea, remember? Not that anyone actually needs you to have fun, but people kind of like seeing the host bangin’ it up now and then.”

  “Yeah, well…” The words fade. I can no longer rememb
er what I was going to say.

  Sparks just pulled up in the limo.

  He’s slipping out of his side of the car and going around to open the door.

  And when Tinsley climbs out, I hold my breath, waiting to see if Mac’s with her.

  I turn to Dougall, grab him by the shoulders, and shake him so hard his own cup of Mojo spills all over my floor, but I don’t even care.

  “Dude, what the heck?” Dougall peels my hands off his shoulders and squints out the window, but Tinsley’s already on her way to the door, so there’s nothing to see.

  “Nothing. Never mind. Just—” I glance around, hardly believing it’s all turning out just as I’d planned. Tinsley came to the party alone. Clearly she’s over Mac Turtledove. “Who’s the hottest girl at this party?” I ask.

  “You mean besides Plum?” Dougall tosses his now empty cup on the table next to mine.

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah. Whatever. Other than Plum, who’s the hottest girl here—or even the second hottest? I need you to take me to her, like pronto. Tinsley’s about to walk through the door!”

  It may seem like a jerk move, to stand by a window pining for a girl to appear, only to ignore her the second she walks through the door. But I couldn’t risk scaring her off by showing what a nervous, sweaty mess I was at the thought of her not showing up.

  So by the time Tinsley finds her way out back, I’m deep in conversation with a group of very hot girls I’ve never seen before and will probably never see again, but there’s no reason for Tinsley to know that.

  “Such a great party!” they say. “Such a cool house!” And “Omigod, I so loved that episode where you and Holly got in that Christmas cookie fight—hilarious!”

  They grin in this really fake way, as though they’re peering at me through a veil of spotlights and dollar signs, and all I can think is how Tinsley never looks at me like that. Like I’m the quickest way for her to move up in the world.

  Sure, I’m helping build her career by recording the duet together and letting her be on my show, but Tinsley likes me for me. I have no doubt it’s true. I mean, while I’m still not sure if she sees me as a potential boyfriend (though tonight I intend to find out), I can say with absolute certainty that she’s one of the few people since I got here, other than my family and Ezer, who treat me like a normal person and never suck up to me.

  Tinsley’s always really sweet, that’s just how she is. But she never does anything false, like laugh at one of my jokes unless she truly finds it funny. Dougall does that all the time, and it’s starting to get on my nerves. Sometimes I wish he’d act more real, more like the Greentree Dougall. Which probably sounds weird, considering how much I wanted the Greentree Dougall to act like the one here.

  I know it seems like a petty complaint, but when you’re an International Superstar with practically everyone applauding everything you do, it makes it nearly impossible to tell who’s being sincere and who’s not.

  When I see her wandering around with a red cup in her hand, I’m quick to ditch the girls and edge up beside her. “If you got that from Dougall, you might want to think twice about drinking it.” My voice is cool, my expression even cooler. “He’s kind of a bad influence.”

  “Are you talking about Dougall or you?” Tinsley tosses her drink in the nearest can as I make a face, pretending to be deeply offended by the question.

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” I tell her. “Deep down I’m an angel.”

  “Really?” She tilts her head to the side, causing her hair to spill over her shoulder in soft, golden waves. And in that moment her beauty is so mesmerizing I have to remind myself to breathe.

  “Someday, if you’re lucky, I’ll show you my halo,” I manage to reply. Feeling proud of myself for delivering the line with such a cool, bad-boy edge. Especially considering how nervous I am.

  It’s pretty much the kind of line that’d make any girl fall madly in love with me on the spot. Which is why I don’t understand when Tinsley’s only response is to laugh in a way that seems really forced as she shifts her attention toward a group of kids playing some diving game in the pool.

  I fall silent beside her, not entirely comfortable with how that went down and unsure how to proceed. Then again, it’s possible I misread the whole thing. She’s probably just overwhelmed by all the excitement, which is perfectly understandable, considering how this is the kind of party you only see in movies. And while it may not have a theme, like Jonah’s party, that’s only because my party is of such epic proportions it’s impossible to pin down.

  There are waiters walking around with large trays of food—and not the weird, boring, bite-sized food adults serve at parties, but real food. Good food. Like sliders, mini pizzas, little cups stuffed with French fries—the kind of food you want to eat. There’s an ice cream sundae station attached to a caramel and chocolate fountain that you can drink from, and a DJ by the pool spinning really good music, a lot of it mine. There’s even a bunch of random photo booths where you can choose your own background, which, going by the long lines, seems like a hit.

  All around me are hundreds of people I don’t even know. Some of them famous like me.

  But no one’s as famous as me.

  And that’s exactly what I remind myself when I look at Tinsley and say, “Did you bring a suit?” I nod toward the pool, where her eyes are already focused. Plenty of people are floating around the lazy river and lounging on the fake beach. “It’s heated. Last I checked, it was hovering around ninety degrees.” When she shakes her head, I do my best to cover my disappointment. I’ve barely had any time to get in that pool, and I was really hoping to do so with her. “Yeah, I hear ya,” I say. “Seems kind of weird to be swimming so close to Christmas.”

  “Does it?” She crinkles her nose and studies me carefully.

  “Well, yeah. Back in Gr—” I start to say Back in Greentree, but luckily I catch myself and go straight into recovery mode. “Well, you know, in movies, Christmas always takes place somewhere snowy and cold.”

  “I wish I could see that.” Her eyes go soft and dreamy, and her breath does this sort of faint wistful sigh. “You know, a white Christmas? I’ve lived here my entire life, and we’ve never once gotten close.”

  Finally. Up until now I’ve been walking on a tightrope, but this I’ve got covered.

  “Better stick around, then,” I say. “Sometimes wishes come true.”

  By ten o’clock, just like I’d planned, a heavy layer of snow starts to fall in my backyard, courtesy of the professional snowmakers I rented.

  At first it takes everyone a moment to realize what’s happening, but when the crew dressed as Santa’s elves bring out the inner tubes, and the waiters wearing Santa hats circle the crowd with heaping trays of hot chocolate and snowman accessories like carrots, black hats, red scarves, and glossy black pebbles to use for the eyes, well, that’s when the real fun begins. Everyone starts making snow angels, having snowball fights, and taking snow-covered selfies. People will be talking about this party long after they’ve forgotten about all the others.

  Luckily, also as planned, Tinsley and I are standing directly under the mistletoe I’ve hung from a palm tree. The moment I’ve been waiting for is finally here.

  “Oh, Nick!” Tinsley thrusts her arms wide as she spins under great swirls of snow that drift onto her cheeks, making her look like some kind of irresistible winter fairy. “I can’t believe you arranged this! It’s just—magic!” She settles before me with glittering eyes and a face so radiant I can no longer resist.

  I inch closer, point clumsily at the mistletoe hanging above. “Oh, look at that,” I say, as though the moment hasn’t been carefully choreographed. Watching in stunned amazement as her face softens and her lips push apart, like she knows what’s coming and fully intends to kiss me right back. Like she wouldn’t even consider screaming and running away.

  “Nick…” She moves toward me, the tips of her fingers finding my arm. “Nick?” she repeats, but t
he moment was lost the second I spotted the cameraman lurking off to the side.

  I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE

  “Seriously?” I pace the rug in my den as soon as all the guests have cleared out, which started just after I spotted the cameraman and then Ezer and well before the fireworks show could begin. “You seriously filmed my party? Is nothing sacred to you?”

  “Sacred?” Ezer laughs. “Tell me, Nick—what exactly is it you hold sacred?” He leans his head back against the cushion and peers down the length of his nose.

  “My privacy, for starters! You invaded my space without my permission! You invaded my private moment…not to mention my…privacy!”

  Okay, so maybe that was a little repetitive. It’s hard for me to speak clearly when I’m flustered like this. Not to mention, I didn’t even know he was here. I mean, even my family knew better than to come, and my invitation to them was sincere!

  “Your privacy?” Ezer balks. “Allow me to remind you, Nick, that as per our agreement, I have every right to film your party. Not to mention how you happily gave up any semblance of privacy the day you signed on to become a celebrity with your own reality show. Back when you were living life as an invisible nobody, you had plenty of privacy, and if you’ll remember correctly, you longed for the opposite. You couldn’t wait to hit the big time—and now that you have, you’re complaining about that. You can’t have it both ways, Nick. I gotta be honest here, you are seriously testing my patience.”

  The way he sighs, closes his eyes, and rubs one of his meaty hands across his face, well, I’m worried that he might try to fire me for being such a pain, and then I won’t have access to Tinsley.

  But the feeling lasts only a few seconds before I remember I’m Ezer’s only client.

  He can’t afford to fire me.

  I’m in control, and I need to start acting like it.

  “No more, Ezer. No more backyard ambushes. No more secret filming without my consent—which would mean it’s not exactly secret, so yeah, no more secret filming, like I just said.” I continue to fidget and pace, wishing I was better at expressing myself, especially at moments like this.