by Dahlia Adler
She isn’t, but I don’t think my being an even bigger creeper is a great idea right now. “Yeah, me too.” I hitch my yoga mat higher on my shoulder, but I can’t let her go just yet. I need to get my stupid, embarrassing tummy touch out of her head. “So, um, got any fun weekend plans?”
“Not really.” She shrugs. “Maybe hanging out with some friends from high school. But probably just helping my mom. She doesn’t believe weekends are days off.”
I already knew that well about Jade. In fact, I have a meeting with her and Zander bright and early on Saturday to discuss the whole purity pledge thing, how it would go down, whether we’d be giving any exclusives on the story.
I really, really hope Brianna knows nothing about that meeting.
“Cool,” I say with a nod. And then an awkward silence descends, and I know it’s time to let her go. “So, I guess I’ll see you next Thursday.”
I hope she’ll say something about hanging out before then, but all she says is, “Same time, same place. And probably the same T-shirt. Washed, of course.”
All I can do is nod again. God, I’m pathetic. I even debate mentioning Josh’s party tomorrow night, but inviting her out after that seems even weirder. She clearly wants to get away from me right now, and I don’t blame her.
So I step back and watch her go.
Chapter Eleven
Josh
I thought this was a small party.” I turn around to see Holly sizing up the packed bar. The crowd at my wrap party for Daylight Falls is admittedly a little bigger than I was expecting, thanks to everyone bringing a few guests, but I’ve always been a “the more, the merrier” kinda guy. Especially when “more” refers to the amount of cleavage being shown off by Carly Upton’s roommate.
“This is like half the number I had here for my last one,” I tell her for no good reason other than I’m already a little drunk.
She sighs and grabs a flute of champagne off a passing tray.
Whatever. She’s always been a little bit of a killjoy. But the food smells awesome—I’m having it catered by my favorite Korean barbecue place—and I’m looking forward to the fact that it’ll be a pretty chill evening, as far as parties at my place go. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, but I actually liked working on Daylight Falls, being surrounded by people all day, even hanging out with K-drama. It was almost worth getting up at the ass-crack of dawn not to spend every day hanging out by myself or with my idiot friends.
Speaking of my idiot friends. My phone buzzes with a text from Liam that he’ll be late. Shocker. The guy’s barely surfaced to breathe, let alone party. I don’t know how the hell he went from doing a couple of modeling gigs to being in every project under the sun, but suddenly, he is everywhere—on every entertainment website, blog, show, and front page, the new fucking golden boy of Hollywood.
And, predictably, he hates it.
Ungrateful bastard.
He’s missing out now, though, if I may say so myself. The pool area is full, the music’s playing, and the sounds of meat sizzling on the grill and drinks being poured are all combining with it to make my perfect soundtrack. If I were the sentimental type, I’d think I was actually a little sad about the fact that this would be the last Daylight Falls gathering at my place, at least until hell freezes over and Liam wins an Emmy for playing Tristan Monroe.
It’s definitely smaller and more chill than my usual parties, but it’s nice, just relaxing and eating and drinking and talking with our feet dangling in the pool. I’m actually enjoying myself for what feels like the first time in a really long time.
Which is, of course, when Chuck and a couple of cameramen come fuck it up.
I jump up the second I see the scrawny bastard and rush up into his face. “I told you already. Nobody wants to be on your piece-of-shit show. You may be able to set foot on my property because of my psycho-bitch mother, but you’re not getting any of my guests on film. Unlike that famewhore, these people are on a show viewers actually give a damn about.”
Chuck just grins. “Why don’t we ask them?”
And people think I’m a douche. But fine. Chuck wants to have his ass handed to him by Jamal and the other guys—let him. Maybe that’ll get rid of him once and—
“Dude, what the hell?”
I whirl around and see Grant Rabar and Marco Barone glaring at us. The scent of pot is heavy enough in the air that I can tell exactly why they’re not thrilled to see cameras on them. Fucking Marsha. “You’re filming us?” Grant spits.
“No.” I know if I put a hand on Chuck or any of the cameramen, they’ll sue the shit out of me; that’s exactly what bloodsucking motherfuckers like them do. “These guys were just getting out of here. Now.”
The camera guys, of course, are loving every second of this, and my blood boils in my veins at the thought of them airing it, even with everyone’s faces blurred out. I turn back to Chuck. “Dude, you seriously need to get out of here before I call the cops.”
He snorts. “For what? We’ve got permission from the owners to be here.” He motions for one of the camera guys to come even closer, and I can hear the rest of the crowd starting to take notice of their presence now. Bottles are quickly being tossed by the underagers, and I’m sure baggies of all kinds are being shoved into pockets. All I want is to physically drag Chuck out on his ass, and then have Ronen run over him a few times for good measure before driving me to my parents’ house to blow up at my mother.
“Dude.” Royce walks over, shaking his head.
I’d thrown out a few extra invites to the guys, but they’re the last people I want to see right now, especially because I’m pretty sure they’re all high.
“Can you call Liam?” I ask him impatiently. “Tell him to get his ass over here. I don’t care what shit’s clogging up his schedule today.” I need someone who’s more level-headed than I am. I’m just barely sober enough to keep from losing my shit completely.
“Everything okay, sweetie?”
What the—oh for the love of Christ. I look down at the bright-red talons digging into my arm and the long, tanned fingers they’re attached to. I used to know that hand very, very well, and now the sight of it is just pissing me off. “Jesus, Shannah, you’re like a walking STD—we fucked and now I can’t get rid of you.”
“Wow, charming much, Josh?” Even with her snotty tone, Shannah’s still latching on like a viper. Her career must be going even shittier than mine for her to reach desperation levels like these. I’d heard rumors the family sitcom she’s been on for years is ending this season, and this is as good a confirmation as any.
“Why would I bother being charming with you, Shannah? Been there and very literally done that. I can’t believe you’ve actually sunk this low.”
“Are you kidding?” She flashes chemically whitened teeth that glow against her orange skin. Did I really find this chick hot once upon a time? “I’m getting paid to make your life hell,” she says, covering up the mic I now see wired into her bikini top. “What more could I possibly ask for?”
I slide my hand on to hers, letting it look like a gesture of affection for just long enough to ensure the cameras will zoom in to catch it, and then I yank her hand off the mic. “You’re the one who screwed around on me, remember?”
Seeing her cheeks turn bright red is pretty gratifying, but she doesn’t give up so fast. She never has. “I know we’ve had our problems, but I’m willing to work on them. You know that.”
Christ, I can’t even with this shit right now. Meanwhile, the people I actually want to stick around are bailing at warp speed, and I’m feeling like the biggest douchebag in Malibu right now, which is always an accomplishment.
My eyes dart around, and I’m relieved when I finally spot someone I know will be on her best behavior as long as there are cameras around. “K-dr—Vanessa!” She looks up, completely confused. At least I know she’s not high. “C’mere.”
She casts a quick, annoyed glance at Shannah—pretty sure she hasn’t been
a fan since Shannah was a total bitch to Ally at one of my parties last year—and walks over. She doesn’t even have a drink to put down first. Such a good girl.
“What’s up, Josh?” She looks at Chuck, the cameras. “What’s…happening here?”
I wrench out of Shannah’s grasp and pull Vanessa at least far enough away that they won’t catch our voices on camera. Shannah might be wearing a mic, but I’m not. “My mother’s been so kind as to invite these gentlemen to my private party. I will give you a billion dollars to get them the fuck out of here.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’d be able to do that?”
“I have no idea. But Ally would be able to, and you’re the closest thing I’ve got since my asshole best friend checked out on me. Come on. I’m sure some men find you vaguely attractive, in a boy-chested kind of way. Go charm them.” Sparks shoot from her eyes. Whoops. “I mean…”
“Oh, shut up,” she mutters. “God, I can’t wait to figure out what you can actually do for me so I can collect on all the damn favors you ask.” Then she steps away from me and walks over to Chuck. Miraculously, in under five minutes, they’re gone.
“What the hell did you say to them?” I demand, keeping one eye on Shannah, who’s dancing over to Zoe Knight rather than leaving with Chuck and Co. “And was it too much to ask to get rid of her, too?”
“I’m not a miracle worker,” she says dryly. “I told them if they left, I’d make sure they got a much better show tomorrow night, with complete cooperation from you and everyone who came with you, to whatever club they choose. And yes, I’m sure you can expect to see Shannah there, causing even more drama. If you let her, and you actually let them make an insane episode for once, they’ll start listening to you a whole lot more than your mother.” She shakes her head. “Of course it never even occurred to you to play ball with them, you idiot. It’s not like they care about your mom. You’re the reason she got the show in the first place.”
“So now I’m going to a club tomorrow night, but I can’t drink anything?”
“They don’t care if you drink, Josh,” she says, like I’m a total idiot. “They won’t show that if you make the rest good enough. Just…put on a show. It’s what you love doing, anyway.”
“Not the worst point in the world,” I concede. “Thanks, K-drama. Now I’m actually feeling kinda glad I was a nice guy and invited your little friend.”
Her mouth twists into a frown. “You invited Zander?”
“No, not him. You told me he was already coming. Which…” I turn and look around the pool area. “He doesn’t seem to have done.”
“Then which friend?”
Guess she doesn’t wanna talk about the boyfriend. “Mini-Jade. You guys are friends, right?”
I hadn’t thought she’d had anything to drink yet, but suddenly she looks like she’s gonna puke. “You invited Bri? Here? Tonight?”
“Yeeeeah. Is that bad? I thought I was being nice. I bumped into her at the Coffee Bean on Sunset earlier and mentioned that you’d be here. Haven’t seen her, though.”
She presses her lips together in a thin line, and I have no idea what’s going through her head right then, but she looks…pissed?
“Can you just not interfere with my life for five seconds?” she spits. “You don’t have to go around inviting my friends to stuff, okay?”
“What the hell? How are you possibly twisting this into my being a dick? I didn’t realize you apparently hate the chick. So sue me.” Christ, I’ve had enough drama for the night. Now that Chuck and the cameramen are gone, I need another drink.
“Whatever, Josh. Next time, just…mind your own business. I only came so I wouldn’t be the only one from the show who was obviously missing, but since even your ‘best friend’ doesn’t wanna be here, I don’t see why I have to be.” She flags down a passing waiter, grabs an appletini shot from his tray, and tosses it back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to…talk to anyone who’s not you.” She thrusts the glass into my hands, and, completely and totally speechless, I just watch her disappear.
Chapter Twelve
Vanessa
God, Josh Chester is so infuriating. I wish he didn’t throw such good parties; I swear I’d never find myself around him otherwise. Although, now that his run on the show is over and Ally’s completely free of him, I probably never have to.
It’s a nice thought.
I ask the bartender for something stronger than the shot I just drank way too fast, and he hands me something with a cherry and way too much alcohol. I accept it anyway. The idea of facing Bri again this soon after the inexplicable tummy-touching incident demands a little altered reality.
“Can I have a mineral water with lime?” a girl asks from behind me, and I hold back a groan. I know that voice, and I know exactly who likes her water that way. Hopefully, she doesn’t know the back of my head, because I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol for this encounter.
No such luck. “Hey, I was wondering when I’d bump into you.”
I turn around, plastering on a smile. No T-shirt today. Instead, Bri’s wearing a cute handkerchief-print maxi dress, her hair twisted messily on top of her head, a guitar pendant hanging from a thin silver chain around her long neck. I’ve never seen her in red lipstick before, but it works on her, especially with her face framed by the wild red curls that’ve escaped her knot.
She looks beautiful.
“I was wondering the same about you. How long have you been here?”
“Just a couple minutes. Long enough to catch the shitshow with the reality guys. Never a dull moment around Josh Chester, is there?”
“Only when he’s speaking.” I take a sip of my drink as I watch the bartender hand over hers. The water is cool and clear and looks so refreshing next to my mystery drink, I sort of want to swap. Except I need to escape my head after yesterday, just a little bit, and can’t help feeling a little annoyed that she doesn’t need to do the same. “Just water, huh?”
“For now,” she says simply.
She’s showing no signs at all of feeling weird, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe everything was entirely in my head. I know that’s a good thing, but for some reason, it’s only making my annoyance grow. I need to take my drink and find a little peace and quiet.
“Okay, well.” I make like I’m looking at someone else over her shoulder and need to go say hi; let no one say acting skills don’t come in handy off set. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
I do in fact spot a bunch of people I could and probably should say hi to, and normally I would. But right now, I want to be alone more than I ever have before in my life.
No, that’s not true. I don’t want to be alone. As I walk away from Bri, putting purpose into my step until I’m pretty sure she’s no longer watching, I think about how badly I miss my best friend. Ally would tell me that I’m being a complete idiot and reading far too much into a new friendship. In fact, maybe that’s exactly what I need to hear.
Now that the reality show guys are gone, the party’s picked back up, so I duck inside Josh’s house to make the call to Ally. It rings four times and goes to voicemail. Of course.
I get as far as “Hey, A,” before I realize I don’t even really know what else to say. I don’t want to talk to a machine. Why is it so impossible to have a normal freaking conversation these days? I sigh. “Just wanted to say hi. Guess I’ll talk to you later.” I hit End and then stare at my phone, willing her to call me back, hoping she just needed to find a quiet space or something.
After four minutes, which I spend downing my drink, I’m contemplating calling her again, and of course, that’s exactly when I hear, “You still PMS-ing, K-drama?”
I whirl around to see Josh double-fisting beers. “Do you just troll around coming up with the most offensive statements possible?”
“Would you believe it actually requires zero work on my part?”
“Oh, go away.”
“Seriously, Park, what crawled up your
ass and died? You in a fight with Mini-Jade?”
“Stop calling her that,” I spit. “She isn’t anything like her mother.”
“Then why are you so pissed I invited her here? I thought you guys were cool. Do yoga and stuff.”
And stuff. I grit my teeth, feeling them grind, and then loosen my jaw again. “We’re fine. We’re friends. But you didn’t have to invite her here.”
He shrugs. “Well, too late now. Anyway, I thought she was gonna be hanging out with you and your boyfriend. So, why’d he flake?”
“He didn’t flake,” I say flatly. “I decided it’d be nice to be with just Daylight people tonight. I didn’t realize you’d be inviting Bri or your gross friends.”
“What gross friends?”
I jerk my head toward the French doors leading out to the pool, and the group of guys sitting beyond it—Josh’s usual posse of guys who get either the “Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold for the Right Girl” or “Dumb Stoner” roles. “What are they even doing here?”
Another shrug. “It’s a party. They’re my friends. They show up.”
“Well, they’re not friends with any of the rest of us. Royce Hudson tried to stick a hand up my dress at the VMAs last year.”
“He’s a dick when he’s drunk,” Josh says, like that’s any excuse. “Besides, they’re friends with Liam, too.” He walks over to the door and peers through. “See? He’s hanging out with them now. He’s—oh, for fuck’s sake, Shannah.”
“What?” I jump over to the door and follow Josh’s eyeline. Sure enough, there’s Liam, practically passed out on a chaise by the pool. And draped over him is none other than his and Josh’s shared former bedbuddy.
I swing the door open and storm out, even as Josh yells at me to calm down. But there’s no way in hell I’m calming down. I’m too worked up—about Bri, about Josh, about Ally not being here when I need her—and right now, Liam’s looking like a perfect target. “What the hell, Liam? Are you kidding me?”
His head jerks up from where it had been bent way too close to the low neckline of Shannah’s halter top. “Vanessa. I…what?” He blinks dumbly, and I think about how many girls have fallen hard for those ocean-colored eyes, including my best friend, who’d probably answer his call at any hour. I look at his dark circles of exhaustion and remember that they come from working two movies on top of our show, and how much I struggle to land even a bit part in one.