Rules of Seduction

by Jenna Mullins

  That can’t be all there is with him, right?

  When we finally get to the venue, Bad Hurt, there’s a horde of people mingling outside and smoking. Tonight’s show will be packed. If the number of smokers is enough to intimidate me, then I can only imagine how many non-smokers are inside right now.

  Unfortunately, I am correct in my assessment, and my prize is a wall of humans blocking my way no matter which direction I turn. I have no other option but to go through people. Once Brit and I find enough space, I take a moment to soak in my surroundings. At least half of the people in this place are wearing Freewaves shirts. The last time I saw Keith, he was just another guy who was waaaaay obsessed with music. He talked a big game, nobody ever believes other people when they talk about their out-of-reach goals.

  But he did it. He’s managing a big up-and-coming band and selling out shows. No wonder Elise feels threatened and wants to use Tate as the buffer at the TV Spotlight Awards. She’s still a struggling actress and her ex is making his way quickly up the music industry ladder.

  “Dani, is everything okay? You have a weird look on your face,” Brit says, yelling through the clamor of people. I reply weakly, but it’s lost in the noise. I realize I’m getting jealous of my best friend’s ex—how come Keith gets everything he wants this soon in life? Keith, the guy who broke my friend’s heart? I’m prepared to work my ass off until well into my 30s before reaching the professional level of my dreams. But Keith isn’t even 25, and he’s a big time band manager.

  My thoughts move from Keith to Tate, who is also experiencing a level of success that most humans only create in fan fictions. Maybe I can understand why girls flock to him. Just to be in the same space as someone currently catapulting through the fame stratosphere . . . it can be intoxicating.

  I hope Elise isn’t falling for another rising star who’s going to hurt her—and I know she hopes the same, which is why I’m the plan she’s got in place to make sure that it doesn’t happen twice.

  A girl shrieking with laughter behind me brings me back to the present. Well, that plus Brit suddenly gripping my arm like the floor had just opened up beneath us and I was her only lifeline. In a word, she was bruising the hell out of me.

  “Brit! Damn, what are you doing?” I yell as I twist away from her and try to rub feeling back into my arm.

  “Hannah is here. She’s coming toward us,” she mumbles out the side of her mouth like a ventriloquist. I scan the crowd to confirm that yes, a gorgeous woman with jet black hair worn in a low ponytail is heading toward us. I turn to Brit to comment on how random and fortuitous it is that Hannah is here, too, but Brit’s petrified expression makes my words dissolve in my mouth.

  “I wish I knew she was going to be here. I would have thought of at least four subjects to talk about and at least nine witty jokes. Now what do I do?”

  “Hm, how about be the awesome person you are? I’d try that. Hi there!”

  I greet Hannah warmly as she wiggles through the final group of people between her and us and gives us (but mostly Brit) a big grin.

  “Hey! I’m Hannah,” she says while shaking my hand. “Brit told me she had a new roommate. You’re Dani, right?”

  “Yep, it’s so nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” She turns toward Brit. “How are you, Brit? I’m glad I ran into you! I wanted to talk to you about working at the Beer Fest next weekend? I know someone running it and a truck dropped out last minute so they are scrambling. Are you interested?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Brit says, her voice near desperation. “Let me just go get us some drinks. What do you guys want?”

  Brit rushes off after getting our orders (a vodka-cranberry for me and a light beer for Hannah). I hope Brit’s abrupt exit doesn’t come off as rude to Hannah, and I wish I could just explain to her that Brit is nervous around her, but I know it’s not my place. Instead, I give Hannah intel on Brit’s new concoction and determine that she must be into Brit—no one is that genuinely interested in talking about smoothies.

  The band begins and they are amazing. Like Maroon 5 in their very early days, but with a retro twist. And before Adam Levine became the Sexiest Man Alive. I’m sure hundreds of anxious fans have squeezed themselves into the tiny club just so they can say, “I was at the show they played before it all happened for them.”

  I lose myself in the lyrics, and let my guilt about not writing, Camden’s hot/cold attitude, and my mission to seduce my friend’s boyfriend wash away in the music. I’m perfectly content to listen and people watch. Before I know it, I’m seeking out certain faces and creating stories for them in my mind.

  The girl all dolled up in the short red dress is trying to move on after a devastating breakup. She’s not on the prowl, but she wants to feel pretty.

  The two guys with their backs to the stage are celebrating their five-year anniversary, and one of them is mentally preparing to propose to the other after they leave the show and go home to their two dogs. No. Cats. They have two cats.

  The guy facing us in the baseball hat shoved low over his forehead is trying to avoid his old girlfriend, while still picking up new women at the same time. His smile is a bit too big for his face, but it’s one thing that women love about him.

  Wait a minute. I know that smile.

  Tate is coming toward us, zigzagging through the crowed while trying to keep his head down and his shoulders up. He clearly does not want to be recognized, but if I spotted his smile from across the room, then surely his fans will. Right?

  “Hi, Dani.”

  Tate stands in front of me, smiling his big, stupid smile and pulling the brim of his hat down lower over his eyes. I decide he looks very cute in a baseball cap, and then I immediately hate myself for thinking it. I focus again on that idiot grin. It really does look like it takes up over half of his face.

  I smile back. Politeness must be automatically ingrained in most folks from the Midwest, because inside, I am not happy to see Tate. I just want to be left alone without my seduction popping up. But I might as well get it over with. Maybe it’ll go more smoothly when we’re not surrounded by sexy vampires.

  “Tate. How are you?” I ask politely to stall until I get a seduction plan in place.

  “Can’t complain! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Ditto. You seem to be everywhere I turn.”

  “Well, I just wanted to come over and say hi. I didn’t mean to bug you.”

  “Okay,” I shrug. Great seduction, Dani.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I repeat, making my shoulder-shrugging more pronounced so he gets the hint.

  He doesn’t.

  “Maybe you should introduce me to your beautiful friend,” Tate says with a killer grin toward Hannah. As a lesbian (and because she’s hopefully into Brit), she should be immune to Tate’s charms . . . except she looks a little flushed in the face. And she’s giggling. A bit too much for my liking.

  “Tate, this is Hannah. Hannah, this is Tate,” I grumble as I motion between them. Hannah shakes his hand.

  “Do you work with Dani?” she asks.

  “Yeah, we’re total work besties.”

  “I don’t think Dani would be friends with anyone who uses that word,” Hannah replies bluntly. I let out one giant “ha!” more from sheer surprise at Hannah’s comment than the jab itself.

  Tate looks shocked for a moment, but then he starts to laugh, putting his chipped tooth on display. Hannah joins in, her eyes sparkling. Again, I’m in awe of Hannah’s beauty. It seems like every man in the near vicinity is staring at her while she laughs and talks with Tate. I fume as I look around desperately for Brit. I need my drink.

  Why is Tate flirting with another girl in the first place? He has Elise.

  I can tell by the strange look on Hannah’s face that my displeasure on the inside is clearly showing on the outside. She glances at both of us again before digging through her giant, flowered bag. She pulls out her wallet and then waves it at someone behind u
s.

  “Well, Tate. I see our friend Brit is waving me down, probably wants help carrying drinks. I’ll be right back,” she promises as she slides away from us. Tate watches her go and then turns back to me.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Stop ogling her. She’s gay and in love with someone else.”

  “I wasn’t ogling her. I just . . . I think I recognize her. Is she an actress? She’s very pretty.”

  “No, she’s in law school.”

  “Hm, maybe I just think she looks like someone.”

  “You sound suspicious.”

  “How does one sound suspicious? I’m just saying I thought I met her before. She’s cool. Her girlfriend is very lucky,” Tate says.

  “Well, they aren’t dating quite yet. It’s . . . never mind.”

  There is an awkward beat between us as the band introduces their next song, which must be a fan favorite based on the reaction it gets when the drum beat starts. I wish I could just listen to the music instead of trying to seduce Tate. I’m too annoyed to be a temptress. I feel Tate’s shoulder suddenly rest against mine, and he leans down to talk in my ear. I swear I can almost feel his stubble scraping against my earlobe.

  “Look, Dani. I’m really sorry we keep getting off on the wrong foot. I think you’re cool, and I just want to be friends. Can we start over?”

  I soften a bit at his request and lift my chin so I can look him in the eyes.

  Bad idea. He has an earnest look on his face, like he truly cares about what I think of him. For the first time, I realize how dangerous Tate Lawrence is.

  I can’t stay away from him, for obvious Elise reasons. So maybe I can use that to my advantage. If Camden and I end up in a real relationship, I should probably try and be friends with the cast. I just wish that I could get a handle on Tate. One minute he’s brushing me off, the next he’s stalking me at a concert looking for a fresh start. It’s hard to decide how you should behave around someone when you don’t even know what kind of person they are. But obviously I don’t show him any of that. And he wants to start over, so I just calmly smile and stick out my hand.

  “Hi. I’m Danika.”

  “Your real name is Danika?” Tate exclaims, clearly amused that he’s learning something new about me.

  “Yes, but my friends call me Dani.”

  “What can I call you?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I answer. Tate stares at me for a second longer than a fleeting glance, and I’m suddenly desperate to know what he’s thinking.

  The song ends with a flurry of guitar chords and smashing cymbals and the moment is over.

  “Well, Danika. It’s very nice to meet you. And I’m pleased to see that we have similar taste in music. And that taste is flawless.”

  I laugh, despite how highly he thinks of himself—at least he can make jokes about it. “This band is awesome, but it’s my first time seeing them.”

  “Really?! Well, it’s a good thing you’re here because they’re going to be big. And they deserve it. They are some of the hardest-working dudes in the industry. I’ve been following their career for a long time. So when Helen, our PR manager, gave out some tickets, I snatched them up faster than you ran out of my trailer on your first day.”

  I slap my hand over my eyes in embarrassment. “Why do you have to bring that up? I thought we just met!”

  “I couldn’t resist it,” Tate says with a light bump to my shoulder.

  “So are you having a bad hair day?” I ask, tugging at the rim of his cap. “Or are you just a huge fan of . . . what looks like a lightning bolt? Are you a Zeus fan?”

  “Yep, the god of thunder is my hero. But mostly I wanted to see the show in peace. I love my fans, honestly I do. But I don’t get much down time. Hence the disguise. It’s not a good one, I’ll give you that.”

  “It’s not. I recognized you almost immediately,” I agree.

  Tate raises his eyebrows suggestively. I already know he’s going to make a joke about how I must have been looking for him.

  “Danika, were you searching for me in this crowd? I bet your heart sped up when you spotted me!”

  “No,” I lie quickly. I take a step back from him trying to physically distance myself from the fact that I’m already in tune with his conversation patterns.

  Tate doesn’t take my cue that I want some space and closes the gap between us. “I’m glad you came,” he says. “Even if you weren’t searching for me. I don’t have many friends in this town and you’re a pretty cool girl.”

  I study his face warily, but I don’t find a trace of sarcasm. If Tate is consistent with one thing, it’s his ability to surprise me. “Thanks, Tate. I just moved here and it’s been stressful. It’s really nice to have someone to talk to.”

  This minor exchange of words is the most honest (sober) conversation I’ve had with someone in a long time. And it’s with Tate Lawrence. Who knew?

  His phone suddenly lights up, shattering the moment. I can’t help it; I glance at his screen. It’s a meeting reminder of some kind. The only word I can make out is “Cat.” I narrow my eyes at him and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Cat? Are you meeting some chick later?”

  He lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “No, this is not for a girl. It’s not even for a human.”

  “What?”

  Tate seems to shrink a couple inches as he leans in, almost as if he’s ashamed of what he’s about to tell me.

  “I’m building a rescue shelter for cats,” he whispers. I blink at him.

  “You’re doing what?”

  “Look, I’m obsessed with cats. I have one and I always want to rescue every single stray cat I see on the Internet. I don’t have time to volunteer, so I’m basically throwing lots of money to build a rescue shelter for stray kittens and cats.”

  I am dumbfounded and struck silent. Except for one phrase . . .

  “You’re joking, right?” I ask, hoping that he’ll gesture at all the hidden cameras stationed around me to capture my reaction to his joke. But he just keeps talking, picking up speed as if he’s been waiting to tell someone for a while now.

  “My friend is handling the logistics, and we have a meeting later tonight to go over some of the details. It’s still a long way away, but I’m so excited to do it. And we’ll hire people to work there and take care of the kittens, so it’ll create jobs. And people can adopt from my shelter or we’ll just keep the cats that don’t find homes!”

  Tate is positively beaming now, while I’m just trying to make sense out of the words coming out of his mouth. Of all the things that Tate could have said about what he was doing later, this was the absolute last thing I expected.

  “You are building a shelter for kitties?” I say slowly, trying to grasp the concept. “So, it’ll be the Tate Lawrence Center for Kitties?”

  “No, my name won’t be on it. I’m just the money. Other people are doing the work and deserve the credit. I’m going to name it after my own cat: Glenn’s Shelter.”

  “How come no one knows about this? No press? No photos?”

  Tate looks around shyly, suddenly uncomfortable to be talking about this in a crowded room.

  “Well, for one thing, it’s not done yet,” Tate explains. “And I’m not doing it for press. I just wanted to do this. It’s been a dream of mine to open up a cat shelter since I was, like, 12. Seriously, I was a weird kid. I wanted to rescue every animal I found. But eventually, yeah, I’ll want press to cover it, but only so other people can come visit and maybe adopt the cats. But right now, this is just for me.”

  “Okay. So, let me see if I have this right. You are spending your free time and money on building a shelter to house stray kittens. But you are doing it secretly?”

  “For now, yes,” Tate nods encouragingly, like a teacher excited about a student who is finally understanding geometry.

  I begin to ask another question (and I have plenty), but I stop and just stare at Tate. Is this guy real? He is nothing like I thought
he would be. I was prepared for a playboy, a smug and egotistical actor way too obsessed with himself and his work. But this is . . . unexpected, to say the least.

  Not only is he putting time and money to help out animals, but he’s doing it secretly and not for press. It will probably take me at least three days to get over this discovery.

  Even though Tate pretends to be full of himself, I’m starting to believe he does it as a joke, or it’s almost an act so people can’t see the real him. And it’s not just Tate’s kitten rescue project. I’ve seen the way he focuses before a big scene. I’ve seen how he interacts with everyone on set in exactly the same way, from the janitor to the head writer.

  Maybe Tate is just a nice, normal guy. A very nice and normal guy.

  Maybe I’ve been trying to turn him into an asshole in my mind so I feel better about spying on him for Elise.

  But he wants to save homeless cats, for shit’s sake!

  And he’s dating my best friend.

  And I’m supposed to be seducing him for her, so that I can move on to finding my real date, Camden.

  This whole scheme would be easier if Tate was just a real asshole. But at least I can tell Elise he hasn’t talked to another girl this whole night.

  Because he’s been spending the entire night talking with you, my brain reminds me. And you don’t mind it. Not one bit.

  “So, I was thinking . . .” Tate trails off suddenly, and when I look up at him, his expression has changed from friendly to completely neutral. Before I can ask him what’s wrong, I feel strong arms wrap around me and hug me from behind. I turn around and catch a quick glimpse of Camden before he kisses me full on the mouth.

  “Hey, you,” he purrs after pulling away. His dimples are on full display and it looks like he tried to (unsuccessfully) tame his dark curls with hairspray. He looks a little sloppy, but in the sexiest way possible. He turns and nods at Tate. “Lawrence.”

  “Camden.” Tate looks at me. “I’ll see you around, Dani.” He disappears into the mob of dancing people.

  “Hey, you scared me!” I say as I look up into Camden’s green eyes. “I didn’t know you were already here.”