I didn’t really like the sound of that. “I’m not asking you to wait for me.”
“You don’t have to ask me.”
“Jackson—”
“And you don’t get to decide who I wait for, either.”
I narrowed my eyes, but his smile only grew. “I get it, Sof. Loud and clear. No more grand gestures or big surprises. We’re going to be real from here on out.”
“Yes. So we can continue to be friends.”
His eyes glinted at me across the table, his face set and decided. “Right. Friends.”
Chapter Fifteen
That glint in his eyes worried me for the next two weeks as we prepared for the trip to New York. Organizing things for Jackson on this trip would be the biggest task I’d worked on as his assistant. Even though Sonja had assured me I could call her for help, I was determined to do it myself. And the last thing I needed was for him to get all romantic on me.
But he seemed determined to stick to his word. No more grand gestures. No romantic surprises. He treated me pretty much the same as always—he asked me about my day. Inquired after Beth. Joined me for lunch on set. Talked about his work and his plans and what was coming up in New York.
But I still caught that damn glint in his eye whenever he thought I wasn’t looking.
Sam was beside himself with excitement for the trip. “New York City!” he would yell at random intervals, raising his hand for me to give him a high five.
“You know you’re working on this trip, yes?” I asked. “The whole looking-after-my-daughter thing?”
He only laughed. “I’d rather work in New York City than not work here.”
I guess I couldn’t argue that fact. It would be nice to get away. My mom was definitely holding a grudge from our fight. She never said anything about me leaving that night, but she would shoot me hurt little looks whenever we were in the same room. It was really getting on my nerves.
The day of the trip, I woke up feeling stressed. What if I messed something up? What if we missed an important meeting because I misread the schedule? There was a text on my phone from Jackson. Stop worrying, it read, as if he could sense my stress from across town. Everything will be fine.
“At least you get to come this time,” I told Beth as I got her dressed. “I picked out your nicest dress for your first trip.”
In the kitchen, my mother muttered something about travel being bad for babies, and I looked to the heavens for support. Luckily, Sam chose that moment to show up, and there was no room for her disapproval in the air with all the excitement he was exuding.
“Beth, my girl,” he said, bending down to look at her. “New York City!” Then he held up her hand to smack his own.
“You’re ridiculous,” I told him, but I was smiling, too. Maybe this would be just what I needed.
When the car arrived to pick us up, I kissed my mother on the cheek. She was stiff, but she kissed me back before turning her attention to Beth.
“I hope her poor ears don’t hurt,” she said, rubbing the baby’s head.
“The doctor said it would be fine, Mom,” I told her, for the hundredth time. “I’m supposed to feed her during take off to help with the ears.”
“Well.” She clearly wasn’t satisfied with that answer, doctor’s advice or not, but I was done arguing with her. It was time to go.
I must have double checked the items in Beth’s diaper bag a half dozen times on the car ride over before Sam finally pulled it away from me. “You’re driving me crazy. And you’re driving Beth crazy, too. Isn’t she, Bethy?”
“I’m sure I forgot something,” I said, pulling out my phone to check the packing list again. “I had so much to get ready on Jackson’s end, and I was so stressed out about it. What if I forgot something she needs? Five nights is a long time to be away from home.”
“You do realize that they have stores in one of the biggest metropolitan areas in the country, right? If you forgot something, we can just buy a new one.”
I sighed, leaning back in the seat. “I think I just need to stress out about something,” I told him.
“How about you stress about what awesome things we’re going to do during our downtime.”
I brightened at that. Because Jackson had several evening commitments that I would be attending with him, Erin had given me most afternoons off. I needed to go with Jackson to the studio, make sure he was settled and had everything he needed, and then I would be free until nighttime. I couldn’t wait to spend that time with Sam and Beth.
We were still talking about the things we wanted to see when we pulled up to the hangar. “Wow,” Sam said, looking out the tinted window at the building before us. “This part is going to be cool, isn’t it?”
“It absolutely is,” I assured him. I had a brief flash of Jackson asking me repeatedly if I was having fun on our first flight, and I now understood why. Once you had done this kind of thing a few times, it was a lot more fun if someone else was there enjoying it for the first time.
“Sam.” Jackson greeted him with a handshake and a slap on the back. “Great to see you, mate.”
“You, too.” Sam looked up at the jet. “Thanks for letting me tag along on this. It’s pretty exciting.”
“I’m the one who should thank you,” Jackson said seriously. “I wouldn’t be able to manage without your cousin.”
Only then did he direct his attention to me. “You ready for the Big Apple?”
“Absolutely.”
It took Sam about a half an hour to calm down enough to sit still on the plane. I could tell he was trying to play it cool, but he inspected every single detail of the plane, a goofy wide grin on his face. This is so cool! he mouthed to me several times as Jackson showed him around. Jackson seemed happy to have an interested party on board—he gave Sam a detailed rundown on every aspect of the jet—its design, its capabilities, even its engines. Sam was a captive audience, nodding and asking questions. When I overheard them talking about tail wind speeds, I looked down at Beth and rolled my eyes. “Boys.”
They finally sat long enough to be served drinks. The flight attendant, a different one than on our last flight, brought out plates of croissants, cheeses, and fresh fruit for breakfast, and I enjoyed a Bloody Mary to help calm my nerves.
“Sofie and I were talking about going up to the Cloisters one of the afternoons,” Sam told Jackson. “Have you ever been?”
Jackson nodded vigorously. “You must go. I insist on it. It’s one of the most beautiful sites in the city. Completely underrated.”
I smiled into Beth’s hair. Lizzie always said Jackson sounded fake and pretentious when he talked like that, but I didn’t buy it. I think it was his nerdy side coming out. He just didn’t know how to show it.
“What else do you have planned?” he asked.
“We definitely want to spend some time in the Park,” I said, looking at Sam.
“And try to find that soup place from Seinfeld,” he added.
“And Laura said we needed to look for the house Carrie Bradshaw lived in and take pictures.” Sam rolled his eyes at that.
“I want to sit on those steps in Times Square,” he added. “And take a river cruise.”
“Oh, yeah!” I felt a stirring of excitement overshadowing the nerves. “And get some real New York cheesecake. And pizza!”
Sam laughed. “I notice that most of the things you’re up for are food-based, Sof.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. “And who was the one who was so excited to order room service in the hotel?”
Sam didn’t look the slightest bit abashed. “Hey, I’ve never stayed in one of these fancy hotels before. They don’t do room service at Motel 6. I’m not used to rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous like you two.”
I looked over at Jackson to share the laugh and was surprised to see that his face looked drawn. I frowned.
“It sounds like you guys are going to have a great time.”
Sam met my eyes, clearly picking up on the
mood. “I’m sure we all will,” he said.
I leaned over a little so my mouth was closer to Jackson’s ear. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, but his smile remained weak.
“You sure, dude?” Sam asked, never one to pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. I always admired that about him.
“I just… All of that sounds really fun. I wish I was going with you.”
Sam met my eyes again. “Well,” I said, my voice bright, “why don’t you?”
“I don’t think I have enough time for half of that.” He offered another weak smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just have to be satisfied with my glitzy actor stuff.”
“I’ll trade places with you,” Sam offered, his face brightening. “Lola Fischer gonna be at any of this glitzy actor stuff?”
I glared at him before turning back to Jackson. “You know, you just so happen to be sitting next to the woman who holds your schedule.”
His expression was skeptical. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. So what if I rearranged things a little bit?”
“I don’t think I can miss anything that’s scheduled.”
“I’m sure you could,” I argued. “Who’s going to stop you?”
“Erin says—”
“Erin works for you. Not the other way around.”
His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he had never considered what I was saying. “Look.” I pulled out the calendar and glanced over the five-day agenda. “You’re only shooting until noon on Thursday. Why don’t we spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying the city?”
He pointed at the box above the shooting schedule. “I have an interview that afternoon.”
“I’ll move it to Wednesday. You have this hole in the shooting schedule midday. The reporter can come to you on the set.”
“I don’t like to inconvenience—”
“You’re Jackson Coles.” I opened my eyes as wide as I could, raising my voice into the awed, excited pitch I’d heard his fangirls use on numerous occasions. “They can come to you.”
He looked up at me, excitement glimmering in his eyes. “And you guys would want to spend the afternoon with me?”
“Of course we would,” Sam said. He bounced Beth on his knee. “Wouldn’t we?”
“And we can do all that stuff you talked about?” he asked, looking even more excited.
“If that sounds fun to you,” I told him. “I would think your New York trips are more glamorous than trips to the Seinfeld restaurant and photo ops at Sex and the City landmarks.”
“That’s why it would be great!” he said. “It’s all so…normal.”
Sam burst out laughing. “That’s us. Really normal.”
Jackson colored slightly. “I meant that as a good thing.”
“He knows,” I assured him. “Don’t worry.”
“I gotta tell you,” Sam was saying, “I’m glad you wanna hang out with us, but I think you’re nuts. I would much rather do the glitzy actor thing.”
“We could switch off,” I suggested. “Jackson could show us some of his New York, and we can show him some of the city through the eyes of the plebs.”
“That would be fun!” Jackson looked absolutely thrilled at the idea. “We can do dinner at the House Nine and John Georges.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sam agreed.
I settled back into my chair, happy that they were both happy. I hated to see that forced look on Jackson’s face.
He leaned over my armrest. “Thank you for that, Sofie.”
I smiled, shaking my head at him. “Silly boy. We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. We’re the ones who should be saying thanks.”
He fixed me with those intense blue eyes. “I have a feeling this is going to be my most real trip to New York yet.”
Those words sent my stomach flipping as I remembered the conversation in the kitchen. I want us to be more than friends.
“I’m glad,” I managed to say. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
***
The first two days in New York passed in a blur. I finally felt like I was getting the hang of organizing Jackson’s schedule, of coordinating with the various crew members, media members, studio execs, event organizers, and members of Jackson’s team who were all constantly trying to get a piece of him. The more demands I saw heaped on him, the more I wondered how he managed to stay awake and alert for all of it. I thought if I were in his shoes, I would have collapsed in exhaustion ages ago.
But Jackson seemed in great spirits throughout the trip. He was all smiles every time I saw him, whether in the hotel or on set. And he was constantly asking me about our plans for Thursday. He seemed to be looking forward to the afternoon with a fervor I hadn’t seen in someone since Lizzie was getting ready to go to London for the first time. But this wasn’t Jackson’s first time in New York. He’d been to the city dozens of times, been to pretty much every major city in the world. Yet this one silly afternoon of fun seemed to excite him beyond the point of logic.
I took his excitement, as illogical as it seemed to me, as a challenge. I was going to plan the best day I possibly could. If he wanted to have a fun, cheesy, normal day, he was going to get it, if it was the last thing I did. Every spare minute I had in those first few days was spent on my phone or computer, reading travel guides and attraction reviews or consulting with Sam about our options.
On Thursday, I accompanied Jackson to the set for his shoot. “Where are we going to start?” he asked, not for the first time.
“I told you I had this under control,” I told him. “Why can’t you just relax and enjoy it?”
“I just want to know,” he said, his voice nearly a whine. I had to bite back a laugh.
“You do realize that you sound exactly like my nephew right now, right?”
“Oh, shut up, Sofie.”
I smirked. “Fine. I will shut right up and not tell you another detail about our plans.”
The outrage on his face had me turning to the window so he wouldn’t see how close I was to laughing.
The sheer force of Jackson’s eagerness to leave the set seemed to be a powerful thing—after two hours of shooting, it was announced that the crew was ahead of schedule and would be focusing on Jane’s scenes for the rest of the afternoon. We got to leave early.
Jackson was practically skipping as I arranged for the car to come and get us. “Maybe you should take your makeup off,” I pointed out. “I don’t really think that going out like that is a good way to stay incognito.”
His face fell. “Shit.”
“What? It’s no big deal—just go wash it.”
“No, I mean…incognito. I didn’t think about that. People are totally going to recognize me. And I didn’t organize security or—”
“Jackson.” I crossed my arms. “Do you really think I didn’t think of all that?”
“You did?”
I arranged my face into an expression of outrage. “Who do you think you hired? Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Trailer. Now.”
Once we were in his temporary trailer, I directed him to wash his face. When he was finished, I joined him at the mirror. “Here, put this on.”
He looked down at the hat in my hand, his eyebrows raised. “You think a hat with a poncey-looking D is going to disguise me?”
“That poncey-looking D happens to be the logo for the best baseball team in the world,” I told him, pushing it down on top of his head. “But we’ll let your shocking lack of knowledge about sports pass for now. Here.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a jacket.”
“It’s… It’s got elastic in it.”
I snorted. “Just put it on.”
He seemed horrified by the windbreaker in my hands but took it obediently. “There’s a different pair of jeans in the back,” I said. “And a few other things. Put them on, and you should be good to go.”
Once he was dressed, he jo
ined me in the front of the trailer, the horror evident on his face. “You want me to go out like this?”
I did my best not to laugh, really I did. But it was virtually impossible, once I saw him. The jeans were the kind my dad would wear. They were a light blue denim, baggy, and at least an inch too short in the leg. They were about as far as one could get from the perfectly tailored, perfectly fitting, dark shade of designer jeans that Jackson spent hundreds of dollars on. The windbreaker was a completely ugly shade of mustardy brown and gathered at the waist with elastic, giving it the poufy, unflattering shape favored by grandfathers everywhere. The best part was the I love NY logo on the side of the chest. To top it off, there was a fanny pack slung around his waist.
He looked about as far from a stylish, jet-setting celebrity as I could imagine. It was hilarious.
“You’re laughing at me!”
“I’m not,” I snorted, slapping my hands over my mouth. “I swear.”
“You so are! You can’t even talk!”
“I’m sorry!” I cried, bending over to try and catch my breath. “You should see yourself!”
“I did!”
I couldn’t stop laughing. I had bought the entire outfit for thirty bucks on a shopping trip with Sam and Beth the day before. Sam had insisted Jackson would never go for it, but I’d been sure the draw of blending in with middle-aged tourists from the Midwest would be enough to get him to cooperate. Looking at him now—and I swear, he looked like a middle-aged tourist from the Midwest—I knew there was no way he’d be seen like that in public.
“You don’t have to wear it,” I gasped, wiping the tears from my eyes. He was watching me, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, not saying a word. “It’s awful.”
“You think I can’t handle this, don’t you?”
“Of course I do! There’s no way you’re going out like that.” I started laughing all over again, picturing it. “You look like my Uncle Julio.”
“Isn’t that the point? That I look different enough to not be recognized?”
“Yeah, but, Jackson…” I trailed off, waving my hands in his direction to encompass the entire look. “You wouldn’t be caught dead like that.”
Starstruck Page 17