King of Hearts

by R H Tucker

  “Danica?” Jade speaks up, coming into view. “What are you doing here?”

  Following behind her, Derrik walks in. Seeing Becca and me peeking through the door, he rolls his eyes.

  “I decided to join you guys for your last few stops,” Danica says, dripping with giddiness. “We’re just going over scripts and scouting locations for the next season of the show anyway, so I thought it’d be perfect.”

  “Yeah. Perfect,” Maddox speaks up, earning a glare from Danica.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Maddox. I promise not to interfere in all of your groupie encounters.”

  “Dani, you’re more than welcomed to join in on the fun,” he quips back.

  “Barf!” Jade yells out, slapping her brother.

  Pulling out her phone, she begins aimlessly looking at it before adding, “I’m going to Louis Vuitton. Jade, want to come?”

  “Louis Vuitton?” Jade asks, then looks back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine.

  Danica’s eyes jump up from her phone, seeing us. “Oh, I didn’t see you there,” she shouts. “You’re welcomed to join, too. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind window shopping.”

  “Danica!” Derrik scolds her, and she rolls her eyes.

  “I’m just kidding.” She turns around and heads toward the bus door. Waving her arm, she calls back, “My driver’s going to be here any minute. Invitation’s open. Derrik?”

  Shaking his head, he stares down at the floor. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right there.”

  The door bus opens and shuts, and quietness floats all around. EJ is the first to speak up, slapping his brother on the shoulder, then returning to his bunk. “I will say this, Derrik; you’ve got balls.”

  “Shut up,” Derrik snaps.

  “No, your brother’s right,” Maddox adds, dropping back down on the small sofa, pulling out a pair of drumsticks. “Even I’m not fearless enough to brave the public with Danica Parker hanging on my arm. No matter how much publicity it’ll make.”

  “Very funny,” Derrik says, walking toward Becca and me. “Hey, so …” Scratching the back of his head, he runs his hand over the top of his short hair. “Danica kinda invited herself along. I found out last night at the event I was at with her.”

  “Oh,” is all I can reply. What am I supposed to say? That I don’t want her here? I mean, I don’t, but I can’t really say that. I know the deal they have going on.

  “I still want to hang out with you guys, but …” Averting his eyes, he almost looks embarrassed. “Peter thinks it’ll help move some more records.”

  “Yeah, because you guys need to break another record,” Becca spits out.

  “Becca,” I snap at her, even though I’m thinking the same thing. Returning my attention to Derrik, I note that his defeated expression stays locked in place. “It’s okay. I mean, this is supposed to be a fun break for us, right? I know you’re working, so … it’s no big deal.”

  “Right. Yeah. I just thought we could …” Taking a deep breath, his eyes meet mine. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he seems hurt.

  After what Becca was just saying, I almost feel the same way, but Danica appearing proves everything I was saying. Our worlds are different. He’s about to go out with Danica, where she won’t hesitate to spend tens of thousands of dollars if she wants to, all while posing for photos for the latest gossip magazines. I’m on spring break from high school. And if all that wasn’t enough, I’m with Landon. Safe Landon.

  Reaching out, I give his arm a squeeze. “It’s fine, Derrik.” He doesn’t look like it’s fine. Hoping to lighten the mood, I put on a broad smile and poke him in the ribs. “Buy me something expensive. Nothing under five hundred.”

  He lets out a small chuckle but still doesn’t seem at ease.

  “Jade?” I call out, looking past him. “We still on to hang out?”

  Her eyes jump back and forth, then she grins. “You know it.”

  “Great.” I start to close the door, then turn back around and deliver one last poke to Derrik’s side. “Remember, expensive.”

  11

  Derrik

  As we walk through the shopping plaza, it’s just past noon, and I’m dressed how I usually am when I go out in public. My hat is pulled low to cover my short black hair. Keeping my sunglasses on, I also threw on a hoodie in hopes of keeping any attention away from myself. Danica, on the other hand, is dressed in her designer jeans, a new pair of sunglasses—yet again—and both of her arms are wrapped in shopping bags from not only Louis Vuitton like she wanted, but Gucci, Tiffany, and Chanel.

  There have been a few people who recognize us, and we’ve stopped to take pictures, while quietly trying to hide the fact that we’re prancing around shopping. Well, I’m trying to do that. All that seems to be on Danica’s mind is how much she can spend today.

  Sliding into the back seat of our car, I finally let out a breath of relief as the driver takes off down the street. Who knew walking around, doing nothing but waiting on a girl shopping, could be so tiring?

  “Smile!” Danica calls out.

  “What?” I look up to find her leaning closer, holding her phone out.

  Rolling my eyes, I shrug it off and plaster on the smile for her, and she takes the selfie of us. Holding up her brand-new purse—excuse me, flap bag. I was severely corrected on that point. I don’t get it; it looks like any other small handbag: it’s pearl white with a gold chain to hold on to it by. I think it cost her five grand.

  She stays leaning against me, adjusting the tilt of the photo, and the filter on it, before posting it to her InstaPic profile. “This thing better break ten thousand likes.”

  I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Likes aren’t everything, Dani.”

  Playfully, she slaps my chest. “How dare you say that? You know how this industry works.”

  “Unfortunately, I do.”

  “Ugh, such a Debbie Downer,” she says. “Anyway, that was fun, right?”

  I glance at her, almost with an expression of shock. “Fun? What part of that was fun?”

  “Shopping, silly!” She giggles. “I love it. You’ll get used to it. You gotta spend that money, Derrik. You can’t just sit on it your entire life.”

  “Hey, I spent money,” I counter her.

  “Buying a new arcade machine so does not count,” she says bluntly, staring at her phone as she scrolls.

  Okay, there was one awesome thing I got excited about while shopping. EJ and I still live at home with our parents, though we upgraded the house last year when our first record hit big. Now we each have a huge-size bedroom, and I’ve outfitted it with some fantastic video game consoles, a miniature basketball set, and now I’m currently collecting awesome arcade games to line the walls. You know, the kind that people play by inserting a quarter? The graphics aren’t anything like on my systems, but they’re super fun.

  What she doesn’t know is I did actually buy something else. It’s hiding in my pocket right now. I don’t know why it’s hiding. Danica and I aren’t really a couple, so what do I care if she knows I bought Zoey something? But … I do care. Beneath Danica’s hard exterior and the Hollywood entitled-celebrity drizzle, there’s a good person under there. And I know she does have feelings for me, even if this entire thing is a publicity stunt. Danica just has the same kind of attitude that Maddox has. This is their life now, and they’re embracing it. Clichés and all.

  Wow, listen to me. Sometimes I think Danica’s right. I should be the King of Nice.

  “Oh, look!” she squeals, showing me her phone. “Priscilla Jackson followed me!”

  I raise my eyebrows, working to crack a smile. “Great.”

  “It is!” she yells again, swatting my hand. “The Hollywood Reporter just wrote about her. She’s totally on the come up, and she’s starring in that amazing blockbuster this summer with Chris Hemsworth.”

  “If you say so,” I reply, earning a smirk from her.

  Turning her phone off, she leans closer, and her lips brush against my
ear. “How about an appetizer before we have our main course at the restaurant?”

  Her hand slowly starts to slide up my leg, and I grab it, stopping her. “Come on, Dani.”

  “Derrik, why are you so against us going out for real? You’re hot. I’m hot. It’s a match made in Hollywood Heaven.”

  She’s completely serious, but there’s nothing I can do to stop the laugh that escapes me. “Did you really just say that?”

  Her perfectly arched eyebrows briefly pinch together before quickly returning to their normal position. Probably to avoid future wrinkles. “What?”

  “Well, first of all, I’m not Hollywood. You are.”

  “You’re in showbiz, pumpkin. And you’re based in L.A.”

  “Near L.A.”

  “Tomato potato.”

  “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

  She smirks, tapping me on the nose. “My point is, that’s our world. Don’t you find me attractive?” She puts on the biggest puppy dog eyes and overly pouty lip.

  “You know you’re attractive, Dani,” I reply. “You don’t need me to remind you of that.”

  “I know. I just like it when you say it.” A mischievous smile spreads across her lips.

  I’ve already said how beautiful Danica is. Her blonde hair, which she’s styled today with slight curls, but pulled back, so it lies over her right shoulder, shimmers in the sun. She’s always wearing some sort of top-brand sunglasses, but up close, her eyes are a deep sapphire. With blonde hair and cobalt blue eyes, you might think it’s cliché, but believe me, the only thing that’s cliché about Danica Parker is her Hollywood attitude.

  She started out on YouTube and transformed herself into a multimillionaire. She is gifted, too. I know her show is a sitcom, but there are moments I’ve seen of it where she showcases some real acting chops. She’s talented, gorgeous, and driven to make things happen. All things I usually admire in someone. And I do respect those in her, even if I see the total drama queen she can sometimes be.

  The car stops, and our driver hurries out, opening the door for us. Danica steps out first, and I’m so used to the sight, I’m expecting a barrage of cameras flashing and paparazzi yelling at us. Then I remember we’re in Portland and not Los Angeles. A couple people are stalking the area, but unlike L.A., they’re keeping their distance, and I watch them click away on their cameras. Danica grabs my hand, and we make our way into the restaurant.

  After getting our table, she continues to scroll through her phone for a little bit. I do the same, seeing the actress she was excited about in the car has direct messaged me.

  “Hey, I guess Priscilla’s following me, too. She sent me a DM.”

  She scoffs. “What?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, opening up my messages. “Oh.”

  Danica leans over the table and reads the message that Priscilla sent me. It’s definitely R-rated; let’s just say she describes the things we could do whenever I’m done with Danica.

  “What a skank!” she snarls, turning on her phone. Quickly scrolling through it, she dramatically presses her finger to the screen. “Unfollow.”

  She grumbles under her breath, and I have to admit, it’s humorous. I’ve never seen her jealous. After taking a drink of the water on our table, I set it down and lean closer to her. “Dani, you do remember this is just a show, right?”

  “She doesn’t know that,” she snaps, forcing another smile out of me. “Don’t you give me that dimple-induced smile, Derrik.” My grin grows wider. “Stop.” She tries to stay mad but starts giggling. “Oh, you and those stupid dimples.”

  “Ain’t nothing I can do about that,” I reply, leaning back in my chair, grabbing my drink to take another sip. “I was born with them.”

  “God, you and I would make the most gorgeous babies,” she says nonchalantly, perusing her menu.

  I, on the other, nearly spit out my water. “You already have us having kids.”

  She smiles. “Not any time soon, silly. You still need to churn out another hit record with your band, I need two more seasons under my belt, and I want to star in a summer blockbuster and a musical before I start to slow down a little. I’d say I want kids probably around thirty. Maybe thirty-two.”

  “You’re insane, you know that, right?”

  She giggles as our waitress comes over to us, and unlike the last time we were in a restaurant, remains calm, cool, and collected. “Were you guys ready to order?”

  “Yes. Food.” I almost jump out of my chair. “Food, please.”

  Danica giggles, eyeing me carefully, then tells our waitress her order.

  12

  Zoey

  Ding.

  My phone chirps again, and Jade gives me the side-eye. Becca glances over at my hands; her eyes narrow as she tries to peer through my fingers, seeing if it’s Landon. Even though she can’t see it, she knows it is. So does Jade. Clutching my phone tighter with one hand, I take another sip of my coffee.

  “You see?” Becca rolls her eyes. She pokes Jade in the arm, then points at me. “Would you just tell her to drop him already? He’s a cheater anyway.”

  “Hey, he’s not a cheater,” I scold Becca, coming to Landon’s defense.

  She sticks her finger in my face. “Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

  “Jeez, remind me to never have you on a jury for my trial.”

  “If you’re on trial, you must’ve done something.”

  “That’s not true!” I don’t mean to, but my voice rises a bit.

  I feel myself getting angrier at Becca. Not only for her incessant prodding of all the reasons she thinks I should drop Landon but because it’s truly annoying. I don’t need my best friend, who I should be having fun with on this once-in-a-lifetime kind of road trip, relentlessly egging me on for something that doesn’t make sense.

  “People get falsely accused of stuff all the time. You can’t judge people on their past experiences, Becca.”

  She lets out a huff, staring down her nose at me. I return the gaze. And Jade does nothing but watch the spectacle, slowly taking another sip of her sweetened iced tea.

  “You guys,” Jade finally whispers, breaking the tension, “I don’t remember you bickering like this when I went to school with you.”

  “That’s because she was in a happy relationship back then,” Becca counters. “With someone she was falling for. Not some guy who cheated on his last girlfriend and who she’s only going out with because she’s too scared.”

  “Bitch,” I spit out. My hand immediately slaps my mouth, and my eyes pop open. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” I say through the fingers covering my lips.

  We’ve had arguments before. I’ve known Becca since seventh grade. We met in a biology class in middle school when Henry Young started teasing me about the dead pig in the jar full of formalin on our teacher’s desk. I was never friends with Henry, and we didn’t have many interactions. But one day, he heard me telling a girl how much the thing creeped me out. The teacher got called out of the room for a moment, and Henry grabbed the jar, bringing it near my face, telling me to kiss it. I was on the brink of tears when Becca rose from her chair, told Henry to sit his ass down or she’d pound him—her actual words—and then folded her arms, standing next to me until he did it. As he was putting the jar back, the teacher walked back into the room, seeing Henry holding the container. He got detention at the end of the day, and Becca became my best friend.

  We’ve argued because of her being too headstrong, and we’ve argued over me being too submissive. We’re yin and yang, but it’s always worked for the most part. We disagree on something, but we’ll always come back around to being BFFs. However, everything about what she’s pushing me on, especially since we joined the tour, has been grinding away at me.

  Jade seems more shocked at my response than Becca. I can’t believe I just called my best friend that. Becca’s mouth finally cracks open. I wait for the reproach from her I know is coming, but she calmly stands up, grabbing
her iced latté, and pushes her chair in.

  “Yes you did,” she says and turns around, walking out of the coffee shop.

  My jaw drops, and I begin shaking my head at Jade, unsure what I should even do or say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  Jade, finally seeming a little more at ease, lets out a chuckle. “I can.” My mouth drops, surprised at her response. “Zoey, it seems like you’ve been holding in what’s really going on for a long time.”

  “I haven’t … Not really …”

  Jade quirks an eyebrow, taking another sip of her drink.

  “Ohmygod,” a girl squees, walking over to the table. “Are you …?”

  Jade nods with a smile.

  I’m surprised at how many people haven’t recognized her. She told us when she brought us to this coffee shop that only locals usually frequent it. Of everyone in the band, Jade likes to avoid the limelight as much as possible. She loves performing and being on stage with her brother and the guys and making music, but she’s mentioned on more than one occasion that being a “super-duper superstar,” as she puts it, is tiring. Unfortunately, it’s the price of what she wants.

  So, when they’ve gone out on tour, she searches for the small places in town only locals know about. Burger places that are only open for lunch. Taco shops that most people would call holes in the wall. And little, unknown coffee shops that people overlook, instead of opting for the big chains.

  “Can I get a picture with you?” the girl asks, almost jumping up and down.

  “Absolutely,” Jade replies, still with the smile in place.

  The girl, who appears to be our age, starts to lift the camera to take a selfie when she looks over at me. “Could you take it for us, please?”

  “Sure,” I answer and take the phone.

  I watch the girl quickly prep herself—she tucks her brunette hair behind her ears, and wipes down her mouth. I’m sure trying to make sure no residual coffee drink or crumbs of something she may have been snacking on are left over. Posing closer, Jade throws her arm around the girl’s shoulder and keeps the smile she’s had since we were interrupted across her face. It’s actually kind of impressive how long she holds her lips curled upward.