Halfway Perfect

by Julie Cross

  ME: Foursomes on big billboards over Time Square.

  HARVARD: Exactly.

  ME: Do you know the concepts for the rest of the shoot?

  HARVARD: I heard Russ and Janessa talking today.

  ME: And…? Elana’s gonna be topless, right? Great.

  HARVARD: Probably. But I don’t think topless is a problem for her. It’s the kissing…that kind of stuff.

  ME: Well I’m not really looking forward to that either but I kinda figured there’d be some lovemaking in jeans.

  HARVARD: Lol. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Speaking of your gf…Where is she?! Are you watching her?!

  Shit!

  I look up from my phone and the room forms right in front of me. It had dissolved for a little while. Probably due to my strong desire to be anywhere but here. Wishful thinking. I glance around searching for the tall girl in half a dress.

  “Looking for your girlfriend?”

  “Actually, I am—” My voice cuts off when I come face-to-face with Jennifer, the GQ intern I left asleep in my apartment last week. And had not called again since. My eyes widen with panic. “Oh…hey, Jennifer.”

  Do I get points for remembering her name?

  She grins—huge and uninhibited. Oh boy. “Awkward, huh? You look so uncomfortable, I’m gonna let you off the hook. This time.”

  Okay, no more interns. No matter what Wes tells me to do.

  She tugs at my tie, holding me in place for a second. “One question?” I nod and swallow hard. I don’t think I’m being let off the hook at all. “How far did we—”

  Thank you, gods of one-night stands.

  I rest my hands on her shoulders. “Nowhere. I swear. You fell asleep, and I crashed on the couch.”

  “Great.” She sighs with relief. “Elana disappeared into the last door on the right about ten minutes ago. She’s with Devin Stone.”

  Fuck almighty. Devin Stone is the scummiest of scummy models and he’s beaten me for jobs more times than I can count. Ten minutes is more than enough for that dude to have removed what’s left of her dress.

  I try not to look too concerned or in a hurry as I’m rushing down the hall, heading toward the last door on the right. I hear laughing right before I turn the doorknob. The first thing I see is a wall covered by a giant painting. Some kind of trendy graffiti thing.

  “It’s by a street artist in Paris,” Devin says. “She had it flown in a few weeks ago. Paid at least a million for it.”

  “It looks like schoolchildren got in a paint fight,” Elana says.

  Devin laughs and I try not to scowl as he moves right behind her. Then he notices me, standing in the doorway. “Hey, Alex. Good to see you again.”

  Yeah. Can’t say the same. “You too, man.” I reach for Elana’s hand, tugging her gently toward me. She’s got a glass of red wine in place of the clear champagne. How much could she have drank in the thirty minutes we were separated?

  Who cares? Just keep her from looking like someone else’s boyfriend and the job is done. She’s not my sister. She’s not my responsibility. I need to focus on that.

  “So…” I say to Elana. “Have you had enough of this party yet?”

  I’m glad to be standing close to Devin now. I like the two inches I have on him. I stand up even straighter, lifting my chin so I can appear to be looking down onto his shiny black hair.

  “I’m ready if you are,” Elana says.

  I was ready an hour ago when we stepped through the doors.

  Devin picks up Elana’s free hand and kisses it. I fight the urge to gag. He’s so phony. I’m not Mr. Honest and genuine or anything, but manipulative and charming beats phony any day. Besides, he’s like twenty-two or twenty-three. And she’s fourteen. Well, I guess she’s eighteen in his eyes, but still…

  “Lovely to meet you, Elana,” he says. Gag. “Nice to see you again, Alex. You’re looking a little more…fit.”

  I snort back a snide remark and guide Elana toward the door. “Later, Devin.” The second we’re outside again, my grip tightens on Elana’s hand, my anger at a near boiling point. “God, I hate that stupid prick.”

  She looks at me, lifts her eyebrows, and plasters on a huge fake smile, discreetly nodding toward the photographers still staked out in front of the building. I let out a breath, trying to relax. I don’t look at any of them or respond to their questions. I keep my eyes on Elana while thinking about what Eve said in her text earlier.

  Might as well get it out of the way now before it becomes this big thing. And she said she wants to be an actress, so let’s act in love.

  I lean in closer to Elana and the second my eyes close, I try to imagine someone else, someone older. My mouth makes contact with hers and I can feel her stiffen at first and then she catches up to me.

  It’s a fairly quick kiss, no tongues involved. But I try to do a good job of making it romantic by putting my hand on her face and then kissing her forehead before opening the door to the car that’s just pulled up for us. Once we’re moving, I notice her eyes focused on the front of the car, her hands fiddling nervously in her lap.

  “Was that okay? I just thought…”

  She manages a small sideways glance in my direction. “It was perfect. For the story, anyway.”

  She’s handling everything really well. Maybe we can work together on this project. It’s impressive, actually. I know I was never this mature at fourteen.

  Elana leans back in her seat, and for the first time tonight, she looks like a tired kid. She probably has a bedtime.

  “Your friend Devin?” she says. “He’s sleeping with the party host.”

  My head snaps in her direction. “What? How do you know?”

  The party host is a big-name new designer Wes is probably trying to get me in with. She’s also pushing forty years old.

  Elana grins, obviously enjoying the fact that she can get to me through gossip. “He showed me all her artwork and had detailed information on when it was bought and delivered. Obviously he’s spending time in her apartment. And I saw her watching him. That’s why I let him lead me away, just to see her reaction.”

  I gape at her. “Who are you? A secret agent undercover as a fourteen-year-old? Are you even French?”

  She laughs. “I think if Kara and Wes want us to be this designer’s top picks and someone is working against one of us, we should feel free to…investigate, do you not agree?”

  “Oh, I totally agree. That was super badass.” I put my fist out for her and she stares at it for a second, a little bewildered, then eventually bumps her fist into mine. “Next time let me in on your James Bond plans, because I was bored as hell in there.”

  Suddenly, I remember the buzzing I felt from my pocket while distracted by Devin Stone earlier. I pull my phone out and glance at it.

  HARVARD: Did u find her?! Tell me you found her?

  ME: She’s fine. We’re headed home. No worries. How’s calculus?

  HARVARD: I’ve just bought three pastries from the coffee shop if that tells you anything.

  ME: That bad, huh? Which coffee shop?

  HARVARD: Hungarian pastry shop. Near campus.

  I look out the window and check our location. Then I turn to Elana. “Want to get some coffee?”

  Chapter 13: Eve

  I laugh out loud when Alex and Elana walk into the coffee shop decked out in their formal wear. If Alex is this deadly in a tie, I have a feeling the shirtless jeans look in tomorrow’s shoot is going to be mighty distracting. And they’re such a contrast to me right now. I’m wearing my pink flannel pajama pants, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. My hair is still wet from my post-workout shower a few hours ago.

  “You guys look hot,” I say, gesturing toward the two empty seats across from me. “I’m not sure we coordinate enough to share a table.”

  Alex glances out the window in front
of the store, eyes darting all over the place. “Just checking for paparazzi. There was a bunch outside the party tonight.”

  I roll my eyes. “And you don’t think someone on your team called them up beforehand?”

  Someone like Wes.

  Alex shrugs, not committing to an answer. He knows. He has to.

  They both sit down across from me, but Alex jumps up quickly, turning to Elana. “What would you like? Coffee? Food?”

  He’s just remembered he’s on a date.

  She glances longingly at my plate of pastries and then back at Alex before sighing, “Just tea, please. Herbal tea.”

  I close my calculus book, knowing I’m as prepared as I’m going to be for tomorrow’s quiz. “Love your dress,” I say to Elana. “How was the party?”

  She yawns and eyes the pastries again. “Oh, tolerable.”

  Alex is back with tea for Elana and coffee for himself. I slide the plate of two remaining pastries toward Elana. Buying three was a moment of weakness. I haven’t even gotten halfway through the first one. “Help yourself,” I say.

  She shakes her head vigorously. “Lumina would kill me.”

  Lumina. The assistant (nanny) with the irremovable evil eye.

  I’d like to trivialize Elana’s concerns, but I know firsthand that those pastries can be the difference between Calvin Klein and Sears catalog. The two of us are living examples of this. I’m Sears now; she’s CK. I’m eating an apple strudel; she’s not.

  I slide the plate toward Alex. “How about you?”

  He shakes his head, not even looking a bit conflicted. “No thanks.”

  “It’s better if you eat them than me,” I say, thinking he’s probably worried about taking food from the poor girl in need of employment. “It’s not like you have to worry about fitting into a dress. Aren’t you on the bulking-up plan?”

  He laughs, his really blue eyes on mine. “I eat plenty. I just make it a point to stay away from anything that doesn’t have nutritional value. Or at least that’s what I’ve been doing for the last six months. It’s working, so I’m sticking with it.”

  “Wait, carbs and refined sugar aren’t nutritious? How did I not know that?” I say. “Are you really going to get fat from eating junk food every once in a while?”

  “No, I won’t get fat. That’s nearly impossible.” He looks away, staring at the wall behind me. “Both of you will murder me if I tell you the truth.”

  Elana and I are giving him all our attention now. “This I have to hear,” I say. “Spill.”

  “All right, but you’ve been warned.” He looks back and forth between the two of us. “You know how I’m not, like, super buff.” We both nod because I guess this is true, though super buff has always been kind of gross to me. “Basically, if I skip one meal, I’ll lose five pounds.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that. You should see my dad. He's a stick and he eats three steaks and six potatoes a day. But if I eat garbage, I can’t get through my twice-a-day workouts, and then I shrink back to stick boy. It has to be protein, fruits and veggies, and whole grains…lots of grains. I probably have to eat around three to four thousand calories a day.”

  “You’re right, I hate you,” I say.

  “Me too,” Elana says.

  “Beer is my big weakness,” Alex admits.

  “My parents own a bakery,” Elana says. “I spent my childhood smelling bread baking and cakes and pies. Crepes are my weakness though. With strawberries on top. If my mother knew I ever turned down food when I’m hungry, she’d have me back home that day.”

  “Just don’t get too obsessed with resisting,” I say. “It can go wrong in a couple of different ways. You either go crazy and eat a dozen crepes in one day, or eventually, you can’t stop resisting or feeling guilty. This is temporary and all the diet stuff should be too.”

  Alex’s eyes are wide; this more serious conversation is making him uncomfortable. Or maybe he’s one of those people who'd rather not see anyone’s dirty laundry because then you have to care and acknowledge it. I can sort of relate to that, but for some reason, since the opportunity presented itself, it feels important to tell Elana what I know.

  She smiles at me and then stands up. “You know what? I might go look at the selection. Perhaps there’s something small.”

  Alex and I watch her make her way over to the counter. She stops halfway there and lifts one of her feet, removing her shoe. She does the same thing with the other foot and holds the black heels, dangling them from her finger.

  “So, did you talk to her?” I whisper to Alex. “About the shoot tomorrow? She’s really nervous.”

  He takes a sip of his coffee then says, “Didn’t talk to her, but I kissed her. Just to get it out of the way. We had a photo op after the party.”

  I force a neutral expression onto my face. “Okay. Well, that’s one method.”

  He shrugs. “It wasn’t bad. She’s a cool kid. I think we’ll be fine.”

  I have to admit, I’m a little relieved. Elana seemed like a bundle of nerves when I talked to her this morning. Plus, I’ve seen all the CK ads. They aren’t tame by any means. And I know for a fact that she hasn’t—

  Oh shit. I bet Alex has no idea. I’m fighting the big giant grin that’s about to take shape across my face. His big brother complex isn’t going to be able to handle this news at all.

  “You know that was her first kiss.” I lean in closer to Alex. “Her very first kiss with Alex Evans. She’ll remember it forever.”

  His coffee slips from his hand and he nearly drops it but catches his fingers around the rim of the cup just in time. “What the fuck, Eve? You couldn’t have told me that in your text?”

  I glance over at Elana, gliding along the floor, checking out every item in the glass case. “Does it really matter? It’s not like that would have changed anything between now and tomorrow morning. I think you guys are basically going to be all over each other. Like wild jungle creatures or something. I heard the concepts. They’re all very primal.”

  Alex’s serious expression falters and he laughs. “Primal, huh?”

  I nod and resume eating my delicious apple pastry. Unlike my two table companions, I will not be photographed in underwear anytime in the near future. “My first kiss was at a shoot for Teen Vogue. The guy was at least twenty, and no one gave me any direction. So of course, I did what all my friends told me to do—stuck my tongue in his mouth. I had no clue that people don’t use their tongues on TV or in pictures.”

  Alex bursts out laughing and puts his face in his hands for a second. “Oh man…that sucks. No wonder you don’t want to seduce math geeks.”

  I feel myself blushing, and I drop my eyes to the table for a second. “It was awful. The guy—I can’t even remember his name—took it as an invitation for some action after the photo shoot. What about you?”

  “My first kiss was in seventh grade,” Alex says. “Behind the bleachers during one of my brother’s football games. Other than a few instances of teeth bumping, I’d say it went pretty well.”

  “In seventh grade, no one would have kissed me. I hardly ever talked to boys in middle school because they all stared at my chest instead of my face. Not because I had huge boobs, but because that was eye level for them.”

  Elana returns to our table, carrying what looks like a container of yogurt with tons of fruit on top. “I’m pretending it’s bread,” she says.

  Alex taps his finger on my calc book. “So this is the devil? Wish I could help you, but I never made it anywhere near calculus.” He narrows his eyes at me. “How did you manage to keep up with high school? I’m assuming you didn’t drop out and do the GED thing like I did? Columbia doesn’t accept GEDs, do they?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” I admit. “I did correspondence courses when I lived in New York, but what really helped me get into Columbia were the classes I took during my two su
mmers in Europe. One of the designers I was working for then was into brainiac models and all for me taking language immersion, art history, photography. It was an amazing experience especially for someone like me, from small-town Indiana. I’m hoping to go back to Paris next summer. Assuming I get the scholarship that I’m working on.” I groan out loud, eyeing my evil calc book. “Assuming I pass my quiz tomorrow.”

  Alex is leaning back in his chair now, coffee cup heading toward his mouth. “I feel extremely inferior to you. Are you trying to accomplish this? Because you’ve totally succeeded. I pale in comparison to Eve Castle.”

  I shrug and grin at him, ignoring the casual drop of the name I worked so hard to bury. “Well, you are better dressed.”

  “I don’t know, it’s kind of badass to go out in public in your pajama pants like you don’t give a shit. That’s confidence.”

  My comeback is halted by Elana’s eyes turning into giant saucers. She swears under her breath in French. “Lumina’s here.”

  Alex looks at her, totally confused. “How did she find us?”

  “Maybe she called the driver?” Elana says.

  The heavyset Hispanic woman stomps into the coffee shop, silencing all three of us. She spins around as if surprised by her surroundings. “Elana! This is where you went?”

  “Obviously,” Alex mutters under his breath. I catch his eye and start laughing.

  Elana sets her yogurt down and looks over at me. “Lumina, you remember Eve, she’s Janessa Fields’s assistant?”

  Lumina turns her evil eye on me. She’s like a big scary dog, so I do the first thing I think I’d do with a wild dog—throw food at it. Or in this case, I hold out the plate with a smile. “Pastry?”

  The anger fades from her expression, and even her shoulders drop a couple of inches, revealing that she does, in fact, have a neck. Her hand reaches out for the cream cheese pastry on top. “Thank you, Eve.”

  Then she turns the intense, strict-mom face to Elana. “It’s late, very late.”

  “If she needs to go,” Alex says quickly, “take the car. I can catch a cab or the subway.”