Then Zara remembered the final touch. Hurrying over to the dresser, she opened the top drawer. She’d stashed one of Zac’s old wigs in there. Okay, so it was kind of a light brown, while Stacie was more of a dishwater blond. Close enough, especially since Gina wouldn’t know the difference. Zara tucked the wig under the covers, leaving just a hint of hair spilling out. Perfect.
“This is so lame-ass Disney Channel,” she muttered as she tweaked the wig so a little more of it showed.
But what choice did she have?
She turned to go before her mother got suspicious. This time she bypassed the slow elevator, kicking off her high-heeled sandals and taking the stairs in her bare feet. Halfway down her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, wondering if it was Gina getting impatient.
But it wasn’t. It was a text from Grant.
everything ok, beautiful? haven’t heard from u in a while. are u getting my texts? need to see u soon or I’ll go crazy!
“Give me a freaking break,” she muttered. She so wasn’t in the mood to deal with Mr. Needy right now. Or really ever, come to think of it.
Slinging the straps of her sandals over one wrist, she quickly typed a response.
rly busy right now. its been fun, but I’m not right for u. we should see other people.
She sent the message, then dropped her phone back in her purse and ran down the rest of the steps two at a time.
Chapter Eight
“Want another soda?”
Tommi smiled up at Cousin Jon from her spot on the world’s lumpiest sofa. He was almost as cute as Court had promised, with tousled blond hair that just touched the collar of his T-shirt, and bright blue eyes with a hint of mischief.
“No thanks, I’m good,” Tommi told him. “Anyway, aren’t we going out to eat soon?”
Jon’s housemate, Rashad, looked over and chuckled. “Maybe if your friend ever makes it out of the bathroom,” he said. “Hope the roaches didn’t get her.”
“Ew!” Court wrinkled her nose and glanced around with a look of slight distaste. They’d all been hanging out at the guys’ off-campus house since the girls had arrived, talking and getting acquainted. The place was pretty much a dump, with thrift-shop furniture and ratty linoleum. The sofa Tommi, Rashad, and Court were sitting on smelled faintly of beer and puke.
But it was supposed to be an adventure, right? Tommi was trying to keep that in mind. Besides, the important thing was that there was plenty of room for all of them to stay, since the other housemates weren’t coming back to campus until the following weekend. It didn’t hurt that both Jon and Rashad were so easy on the eyes, either. Rashad was tall and built like an athlete, which made sense, since he’d already mentioned he was on the university’s rugby team. He had short dreads, a pierced brow, and an easy grin.
“So what are we doing tonight, anyway?” Mariah bounced up and down on the edge of a rickety-looking wooden chair. “I mean, dinner first, obviously. I’m starving. But what about after?”
The two guys exchanged a glance. “One of the frats is having their annual So Long Summer party tonight,” Cousin Jon said. “Thought we might hit that up, if you’re into it.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Brooke was perched on another chair, picking at her fingernails. “Think it’ll be fun?”
Cousin Jon nodded. “For sure. Those guys know how to throw a party. This one time last year …”
He launched into a story about some epic past party. A funny one, if the reactions from Tommi’s friends were any indication.
But Tommi couldn’t seem to focus. Her mind was wandering northward—back to Pelham Lane, to be exact. Was Kate still at the barn, working away another Friday night? Had she eaten? And how had Joy’s schooling session with Legs gone? Had he behaved himself?
She blinked and glanced up as Abby appeared in the doorway, bringing with her a cloud of her signature gardenia scent. “All ready,” Abby sang out, dropping her lip gloss into her hobo bag. “Let’s go have some fun!”
“Food first, then fun,” Brooke said.
Rashad jumped to his feet and held out a hand to help Tommi up. “So you ever been to a frat party?”
“Nope. Frat virgin here,” Tommi responded lightly as she took his hand. “Should be an adventure.”
“For sure.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. His palm felt warm and dry, and as Tommi smiled back, she suddenly found herself having a lot less trouble focusing on the here and now.
Zara took a deep breath, then climbed out of the limo after her mother. Flashes went off from every direction, making it hard to see, but she kept her eyes focused on Gina’s white dress just ahead.
“Gina! Gina!” a dozen voices shouted. The crowd surged forward, pressing against the ropes blocking off a narrow pathway across the sidewalk and into the theater.
Gina stopped and struck a pose, shooting her most dazzling smile at the paparazzi. After a moment she turned and beckoned to Zara.
Zara almost rolled her eyes, then remembered that someone would be sure to capture it on film for all to see. So she pasted a bored little smile on her face and stepped toward her mother, willing herself not to trip over her high heels. Gina grabbed her hand and pulled her in close.
“Smile, my love,” she whispered without moving her lips.
A thousand more flashes, and finally they moved on. Zara’s heart was beating fast as they ducked into the theater lobby; that was the first red carpet she’d walked since moving to New York. And yeah, she had to admit she’d missed it. At least a little. The adrenaline rush, the dangerous feeling that one wrong move could plaster her on the front of tabloids all over the world. Or one right move, depending how you looked at it. She’d had some fun with that sort of thing in the past, but tonight wasn’t the time.
“Gina, darling!” A painfully skinny red-haired woman rushed toward them. Zara recognized her as one of Gina’s costars from a previous film, an over-the-hill boozy-floozy type who’d seen a few tabloid covers herself.
As the two actresses made kissy-face at each other, Zara stepped away and surveyed the lobby. It was all decked out in red and gray bunting—something to do with the topic of the movie, she guessed. There was a bar set up beside the snack stand, and several people were standing in front of it sipping martinis and looking self-important. Then a well-known action star entered, and everyone turned to stare at him.
“Same crap, different coast,” Zara said under her breath. It had become one of her favorite sayings since moving to New York. She glanced around for her mother, but Gina had disappeared somewhere in the rapidly swelling crowd.
Zara sauntered over to the bar. “Hey,” she said to the bartender, a harried-looking middle-aged woman in a too-tight black-and-white uniform. “Tequila slammer, please.”
The woman squinted at her. “Are you—” she began.
“Zara! Gorgeous girl!” a loud, high-pitched voice exclaimed.
Zara winced. She turned to face the woman, a successful character actress who’d been in practically every movie and TV show for the past three decades as far as Zara could tell. She’d lived right across the street from them back in Hollywood.
“Hi, Camille,” Zara said. “Are you in this movie?”
“Just a tiny part, sadly.” Camille waved a hand and tittered. “Barely a cameo. But never mind that, how are you, sweetheart? How’s school? What will you be this year—a junior, yes?”
Zara shot a look at the bartender. So much for that.
“Yeah,” she said. “Um, but school doesn’t start for a few more weeks.”
She continued to chitchat with Camille until they were interrupted by some fast-talking skinny dude in a suit. Zara took the opportunity to escape, ducking behind a potted palm to avoid pushing through the mob.
When she emerged on the other side, she almost crashed into a guy standing off by himself, staring out into the crowd. She stopped short, but couldn’t quite avoid stepping on his heel.
“Oops,” she blurted out. “Sorry.”
&n
bsp; He turned to face her. “No worries,” he said, his husky voice betraying a slight twang.
Zara blinked and lifted one eyebrow as she checked him out. Okay, this was more like it. The guy was probably four or five years older than her and crazy hot. Strong chin, two or three days’ stubble, shaggy dark hair that looked like it had never seen a comb. Wearing a vintage leather jacket despite the heat outside. He was a little unkempt. Maybe a little dangerous. In other words, just her type.
“I’m Zara,” she said. “You come here often?”
He smiled, which made the corners of his eyes crinkle and revealed a slight dimple in one cheek. Nice.
“Constantly. I’m addicted to popcorn grease,” he responded. “You?”
Just then Gina appeared again. She shot a quick, distracted smile at the guy, then took Zara by the arm. “Shall we go in, love?” she said. “The film should be starting soon.”
“Yeah,” the guy said. “See you, Zara.”
“Who was that?” Gina asked as he drifted off through the crowd.
“Um …” Zara realized she hadn’t gotten his name. “Just some guy. Come on, let’s go in.”
An hour later, Zara stifled another yawn. The film was super boring—just a bunch of guys with slicked-back hair and dark suits talking urgently at one another and pounding their fists on desks. Zara leaned toward her mother.
“I’m hitting the bathroom,” she whispered.
She slid out of her seat and hurried up the aisle. Maybe she could snag some food to pass the time until the after-party—or if she was lucky, a drink.
The lobby was a lot less crowded than before, though there were still a few people out there. Zara scanned the stragglers with a practiced eye. The woman with the frosted hair and the spray-on tan yapping into her cell phone was probably an agent or publicist trying to drum up some extra media attention for whichever client of hers was inside right now. The fat guy leaning on the bar flirting with the bartender? Definitely an aspiring producer. Zara knew the type.
Then she felt someone staring and turned around. It was Mr. Leather Jacket.
He was already moving toward her, slouched with hands in pockets. “Hey,” he said when he was close enough.
“Hey yourself.” Zara tilted her head and hinted at a smile. Yeah, he was just as hot as she’d thought the first time. “Boring movie, huh?”
“Uh-huh, kinda.” The guy shrugged. “It’s not really my type of flick, but some friends dragged me along.” She could tell he was trying not to stare at her cleavage. His eyes flickered down a couple of times, but he was doing pretty well considering how low-cut her dress was. “So how come you’re here?” he added.
Zara was a little surprised. Didn’t the guy know who she was? Didn’t he know who Gina was? He had to be either blind or faking. And when she saw those dark brown eyes slip downward again, she was pretty sure he wasn’t blind.
“Uh, my mom talked me into coming,” Zara said. “Guess I’m her date, since my dad’s out of town.”
“Cool.” He glanced toward the bar. “I was hoping to grab a beer or something, but I got carded.”
Again, surprise. Zara would’ve guessed he was at least twenty-one, if not a year or two older. “Really? How old are you?” she asked.
A smile played over his lips. “Isn’t that kind of a personal question? Like, a lady never reveals her age or whatever?”
“Are you a lady?” Zara shot back. “Because if you are, you need to invest in some serious waxing.”
He laughed. “If you must know, I’m twenty. What about you? Or are you going to turn that lady thing back on me now?”
“Don’t worry, I’m no lady.” Zara smirked. “Sixteen. Almost seventeen.”
“Jailbait. Nice.” He grinned. “So Zara, are you—”
“Excuse me.” A middle-aged man bustled over and got in their faces. “We’re going to start filming some interviews out here in just a moment, so I have to ask you to head back into the theater now, all right?”
Zara frowned, about to tell the guy off. But Mr. Leather Jacket was nodding. “No problem, bro,” he said. “After you, Zara.”
He stepped over and held the door. Zara couldn’t remember the last time a guy had actually held a door for her, old-school gentlemanly like that. Well, except maybe Mickey from her dad’s posse. Or some of the newer lackeys when they wanted to suck up. But they didn’t count.
She wasn’t sure how to react, other than to nod and step past into the darkened theater. On the screen, some chiseled dude in a tux was lighting a cigarette. The flare of the match distracted her for a moment; then she felt Mr. Leather Jacket touch her lightly on the arm as he brushed past her. He hurried forward and disappeared into one of the rows up front.
Zara just stood there for a few seconds as her brain caught up. Then she frowned.
“Dammit!” she said out loud, earning annoyed glances from the people in nearby seats. She still didn’t know the guy’s name.
Kate had barely slipped her key into the lock when the door swept open. “It’s about time you—oh, Katie.” Her father’s shoulders slumped, and his loud voice softened. “Uh, come on in.”
“What’s going on?” Kate stepped inside, glancing from her father to her mother, who was over by the fireplace dusting the candlesticks with a rag. One, two, three, four candlesticks … Kate winced and looked back at her dad.
He looked tired as he passed one hand over his face. “It’s your brother,” he said gruffly. “He picked a fight with your mother earlier and ran out in a huff. Now he won’t answer his phone.”
Kate closed her eyes for a second. So they were in for another long night of drama. After her busy day at the barn, she wasn’t sure she could handle that.
“Um, I just remembered,” she said. “I left, uh, something in my car.”
She darted out and closed the door behind herself without waiting for an answer. Her heart was pounding, and the chicken wrap she’d eaten earlier was popcorning around in her stomach. She couldn’t do this. Not tonight. If she had to stay here for another installment of Psycho Family Drama Night, she’d go crazy. For real.
But what other choice did she have? Where could she go? Nat was still out, obviously. Kate hadn’t heard a peep out of her since that day at Pelham Lane. Talk about drama …
She shoved aside all thoughts of Nat. Tommi? Kate was pretty sure she’d let her crash at her place in the city, even if Kate would feel totally awkward about it. But that wasn’t an option right now, either, since Tommi had left for Philadelphia that morning.
Okay, so what about Fitz? He was on his own with his parents out of the country, and he was always up for a night out. Maybe she could convince him to come up, hang out with her at the diner or somewhere until it was late enough for her parents to be asleep.
Not letting herself stop to think, she dialed his number. He answered on the second ring.
“Kate?” he said. “Everything okay?”
“What, can’t I just call to say hi?” she tried to joke, though her voice came out a little wobbly.
“Are you just calling to say hi?”
“Not exactly …” She told him what was going on. “So I was thinking, if you wanted to come up and—”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can get there,” Fitz interrupted. “Pack a few things; you can stay here as long as you need to.”
“What?” Kate blurted out, startled. “Um, no, I just meant—”
“What’s your address again? I can pick you up in front of your place.”
“No!” Kate swallowed hard. “I mean, I can meet you at the barn, okay? It’s closer.”
“Fine. See you there in a while.”
The phone clicked to dead air. Kate stared at it. Running away to stay with Nat or Tommi for a night or two was one thing. But she couldn’t, like, move in with her boyfriend. No way. That was crazy. Right?
She headed toward the house, her thumb hovering over the button to call him back. As she swung open the door, her fat
her’s voice drifted out from the direction of the kitchen, sounding angry. He was yelling at Kate’s mother—something about how this was happening because she coddled the boy too much. The usual. At least lately.
Kate’s stomach clenched, and she dashed up the stairs to her room. Even after she closed the door behind her, she could still hear the muffled shouts through the house’s thin walls. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, then glanced at her phone again and slid it into her pocket.
Okay, so maybe it was kind of crazy to even think about spending the night at Fitz’s place. But her whole life had gone nuts lately. Besides, wasn’t Tommi always telling her to trust people more, to ask for help when she needed it?
She tossed a few things in a duffel bag and headed back downstairs. When she poked her head into the kitchen, her mother was huddled on a stool in front of the old butcher block island. Kate’s father was glaring at her from over by the pantry.
“Hey, guys,” Kate said. “Um, Nat just called and invited me to sleep over for the weekend. Okay?”
Her father shot her a look, though Kate had a funny feeling he didn’t really see her. “Hmm? Oh, fine. Have fun, Katie.”
“Okay, thanks.” Kate waited a second to see if her mother would turn to look at her, but she didn’t move. “Um, bye,” Kate added.
She hurried outside and tossed her bag in the passenger seat. Her hand shook as she turned the key in the ignition, and nerves sparked butterflies in her gut. But she did her best to ignore it. What choice did she have?
Chapter Nine
“Urp!” Court patted her stomach. “That was delish.”
“See?” Cousin Jon grinned at her. “We do have real restaurants even way down here in the boondocks of Philly, Miss New York Snob.”
Court stuck out her tongue at him. Tommi traded an amused glance with Abby. Court and Jon had struck up quite a little flirtation over the course of the group’s leisurely dinner at the White Dog Café. It was totally cute, even if Tommi was pretty sure Parker wouldn’t think so.
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