by Wood, Vivian
Gisella makes a sour face but steps back, and the doors close in her face. It’s satisfying as fuck; I’m already tired of her backhanded compliments and pretentious bossiness.
We ride the elevator up to Elly’s floor and head for her suite. As I swipe the key card and let her into the suite, checking to make sure the room is undisturbed, a thought occurs to me.
“Hey. You should change into jeans,” I say.
Elly gives me a puzzled smile, pausing on her way to her bedroom.
“For the gym? Sounds uncomfortable.”
“Blow it off,” I say. “You have two hours to do whatever you want.”
“Oh…” she says with a frown. “I have to work out and have lunch.”
“Let’s go out for a bit,” I suggest. “I’ve seen you on stage; you dance your ass off. You’ll get your workout there. Why not go do something new while you’re free?”
She wavers for a moment. I can see the interest on her face. She’s not a dull person, but after the attack and the mystery roses last week, she hasn’t ventured outside her hotel suites except for press events and concerts.
“Is it safe?” she asks at last.
“Yeah, of course. You and me and Karen? Pshh, we can take on the zombie apocalypse if we have to,” I joke.
“Jared will be mad,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “But I haven’t eaten anything except raw tuna and salad in days.”
“So let’s do it,” I say. “Fuck Jared.”
Elly laughs, running a hand through her dark hair. I can’t help but think that it looks so soft. My fingertips tingle with the impulse to walk over and catch a strand. Just to find out if I’m right.
Quit being a dickhead, I snarl at myself.
“All right,” she relents. “I don’t know anything about Boston, though. Where will we go?”
“Just get dressed,” I say.
I pull out my phone and text Alejandro, Elly’s driver, asking him to pull the car back around for us. I also notify Karen that I’m going to need her, though she’s just outside in the hall doing a passive round of duty.
Last, I contact an old buddy of mine who lives in Boston now, asking for a good recommendation. He comes through surprisingly fast with a list of great places for local food — though I won’t be considering the ‘great sushi place’ he’s offered.
I thank my friend and then pocket my phone, a mental image making me crack up a little.
I have the most perverse desire to watch Elly eat a huge cheeseburger. She’s always so tightly controlled, by herself and everyone around her. I just want to see her shake it off, even just for a few minutes.
I want to meet Elly Parsons, human being, instead of just Elly Parsons, pop star, I realize. But why?
I don’t get the chance to think on it more, because Elly reappears in this short white cotton dress, with a tight denim jacket and red flats.
“I’ve never seen you out of heels,” I say, thinking aloud.
Elly actually blushes.
“My feet hurt. Is this okay?” she asks, waving her hands to indicate her outfit.
I want to say, how in the fuck do you have to even ask that? Instead, I just shrug.
“Sure. Comfortable is good.”
Her lips tip down at the corners for the barest second, and I realize that she thinks I insulted her. I almost compliment her, then I stop myself. I’m not trying to woo her. We’re taking a lunch break from our respective mutual jobs, end of story.
For fuck’s sake, quit staring at her fucking tits. Then, I am broken, I swear to fucking god.
“Whatever, let’s just get moving,” I tell her.
Disgusted by myself, I’m a little more brusque than I need to be as I get her to the SUV. I climb in the back seat with Elly, earning the briefest curious glance from Karen as she takes the front. I give Alejandro the address after searching for the restaurant on my phone.
“Where are we going?” Elly asks as the
“Just relax, will you?” I say, sliding a glance over at her.
Her lips thin and she looks away out the window, watching the old Boston brownstones pass by. I don’t mean to be an asshole, exactly, but she is too used to having her whole life laid out in hour blocks.
What’s next, what’s next, what’s next? It’s exhausting. I’ve only been on the tour for a week and I’m already mystified as to how she even gets out of bed every day. Must be some fat fucking paychecks to deserve that level of hustle.
We ride in silence, and Elly doesn’t speak again until the car pulls up out front.
“Alive & Kicking Lobsters?” she reads from the sign out front. “That sounds… terrifying.”
“You really do need to learn to chill,” I tell her.
“Me?” she huffs as I climb out first and have her slide out on the sidewalk side. “Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, holding out a hand to stop her from entering the restaurant, scanning the crowd first. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Umm, this?” she says with a laugh. “I know you’re doing your job, keeping me from getting murdered—”
“Don’t say that. It isn’t funny,” I grouse as we walk up to the counter. Me in front of Elly, Karen behind, Alejandro in the car with the engine running. Just in case.
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “My point is that you must live with some really intense paranoia to even think like that.”
“Like what?” I ask. I pick up a laminated plastic menu and hand it to her. “My friend promises that this place has the best lobster rolls on the planet.”
“Mmmm,” she says, rolling her lower lip between her teeth as she scans the menu. “Oh god, cheese fries with lobster…”
The temptation in her eyes is too much for me to handle. I grab the menu from her and step up to the counter.
“Two lobster rolls, plus cheese fries with lobster,” I say, lifting a brow at Elly, challenging her to say a word otherwise. “And two regular Cokes.”
Her mouth forms a horrified O and I grin at her. She’s really easy to rile up, that’s for sure. And here’s me, who absolutely loves to give people shit. It’s like candy from a baby.
I grab the two huge sodas that the guy behind the counter hands over, and let her take the little metal placard with our order number on it.
“You were saying?” I ask as I lead her over to a rickety little plastic table.
She eyes it for a moment and then brushes her chosen seat off and sits down.
“Um. Just that you’re always looking around for a terrorist or an exit or something,” she says. “Look, you’re doing it right now!”
I blink. Was I?
Probably.
“And?” I ask. “It’s definitely ingrained from my days in service.”
“Right,” Elly says, taking one of the Cokes. She takes a big sip and then gives me a half smile. “It’s good. I haven’t had a soda in ages, much less a full-fat one.”
“Full fat, huh?”
Her cheeks tinge with pink.
“My point was that you probably walk around thinking about violence and danger all day,” she says, pushing the Coke to the side. “Is that really so different from me thinking about work all the time?”
I watch her for a long moment, trying to decide how much I should say.
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says, looking put off that I even asked.
“The thing is, it kind of seems like it’s not you that’s worried about all of it.” I shake my head. “It seems like you have all these… I don’t know, employees… They act like they’re your friends, and yeah you’re friend-ly, but they are paid to keep you in line.”
“That’s… not…” she says, then stops and scoffs. “No. I mean… Gisella and Brad are my friends.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say.” I drum the tabletop; this conversation is already getting into dangerous territory. “I mean, I don’t know, I guess it’s not my pla
ce.”
Elly’s expression goes stormy just as our food arrives. Two small lobster rolls, bread piled high with butter and seafood, plus this huge plate of fries covered with a heart attack’s worth of cheese and lobster.
“Look, this is a fun lunch,” I tell her. “Look at these fucking fries. Try to enjoy yourself, Elly.”
She glares at me as she pulls her lobster roll close. She takes a bite and closes her eyes, making a quiet mmmm sound as she chews. I take a huge bite of mine, and it’s fucking incredible.
“Damn,” I murmur between bites.
“Yeah,” she says, sipping her Coke and trying the fries. “Oh god, these are even better.”
She pushes the plate of fries over to me and I take a few, smirking at her.
“This is your first time having a lobster roll, huh?” I ask.
“But not the last,” she quips, and I laugh. The food has broken the tension, it seems.
We eat for a couple of minutes, not talking. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Karen eating her own lobster roll, though she’s standing in the corner watching everyone as she does it.
“You’re doing it again. Assessing the room,” Elly tells me.
I nod.
“It’s my job. Even if it wasn’t, I’d still do it. It’s good to have an exit strategy.”
Her lips purse.
“I wish it didn’t have to be like that,” she says. “I know that’s kind of naive.”
“Very. Even if you weren’t Elly Parsons, even if you lived out in the middle of nowhere, you still need to know how to take care of yourself.”
“I know. I did take those krav maga classes,” she points out.
“Yeah, but if I came at you across the table right now, you wouldn’t be able to fight me off. You’d probably go limp.”
“I— No I wouldn’t!” Elly says, appalled.
I chuckle.
“Yeah you would. You know me, or at least you’re familiar with me. You’d trust me not to hurt you.” The annoyance on her face makes it hard not to crack up. “Don’t get mad! It’s what almost anyone would do in that situation.”
“Oh, but not you?” she asks, heavy on the sarcasm.
“No, not me. I guarantee you that the list of people who are allowed to lay hands on me is very, very short.”
“Ugh.”
“What?”
“Just… are you always this full of yourself?”
“Yep.” I pop a fry in my mouth and wink at her. Too late, I realize that I am definitely flirting with her.
Fuck me.
She gives me a really odd look, taking a last sip of her Coke before pushing it away.
“I’m stuffed,” she says.
Keep it neutral, I warn myself before I speak.
“You barely made a dent in that lobster roll,” I say.
“I’m not used to so many carbs. And butter, I can’t tell you the last time I had butter,” she says with a laugh.
“It’s good to be regimented,” I qualify, “But it’s also good to live a little. Stop and smell the roses.”
“Or the lobster rolls?” she says.
“Exactly.”
I finish my lobster roll and few more fries, then push my own plate away. I stand up and offer her my hand, pulling her to her feet.
“Ready, Princess?” I ask.
It’s like I can’t fucking stop myself, this stupid flirty shit just keeps coming out of my mouth.
“Yep,” she says, her cheeks coloring.
Damn, that blush is sexy. Like she’s sweet and innocent but she knows just what I’m thinking about every time my eyes drop lower than her face. It’s killing me right now, playing it cool.
“Let’s get a move on. If we head straight back, your jailers probably won’t even know you were playing hooky.”
“Elly?”
Elly and I turn to find a couple of young fans standing between us and the door, their eyes wide and star struck.
“Yeah, hi!” she says.
I almost cringe at the change in her voice. She slides from real Elly to pop star Elly so easily that it’s a little creepy.
“Would you sign something for us?” one of the girls asks.
“Of course,” Elly says, a big grin on her face.
She signs a couple of autographs and even helps the girls take selfies with her, holding the girls’ phones at a flattering angle. She chats with them the whole time, asking if they ate a lobster roll, asking what subjects they like in school or if they’ve read any good books.
When she’s done, the gaggle of girls look absolutely bowled over with happiness. Elly’s flushed too, pleased with herself.
“They were great,” she tells me as I usher her outside.
“I saw them primping before they came over here, trying to look nice for you,” I tease her.
Elly sighs.
“I never talk to girls about their clothes or hair or looks. I try to only talk to them about their brains,” she says.
I stare at her for a second, totally thrown off.
“All my life, people have only talked to me about shallow stuff. I’m so pretty, I’m dressed cute, I looked good in a video I did.” She pauses for a second to get into the car, and I climb in beside her. As we head back to the hotel, she gives me a very serious look. “Did you know, I had to beg my mom to let me finish high school? I was working on that television show, Heaven On Earth—”
“Wait, you were on Heaven On Earth?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, giving me a funny look. “That’s how I launched my singing career, duh. Anyway, my mom pulled me out of school at fourteen. When I got my first small movie part and landed a recording contract, she was ready for me to quit school and work full time.”
“That’s… not cool,” I say, feeling lame. It’s a lot to digest.
“Yeah. I don’t know, I guess I took it upon myself to read a lot and try to go to museums and stuff. I’m an auto-didact, Artisan says. I would’ve gone to college too, but my mom told me how stupid that was in light of all the other opportunities I had. So here I am,” she sighed. “Honestly, coming up like I did… from where I did… I think half the reason I’m so driven is because so many people told me I couldn’t accomplish something.”
I stumble over that little admission. It makes me realize that I have no idea where she’s from or how she came up, as she put it. It seems ridiculous that I took this job without even reading her Wikipedia page. Hell, I’ve met her mom half a dozen times before this, and I still have zero idea what Elly’s referencing.
I take the coward’s way out, picking an easier topic to forge ahead with.
“I get that. People always assume that because I’m a big guy and I’m former military, I’m some dumb meat head. I do the same thing as you, read here and there when I get a chance. Plus I’ve traveled all over the world in my job, so I’ve seen and experienced more than people can imagine. It’s… I guess it’s about being curious about the world around you, not about whether you have a four-year degree.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “Still, I kind of wish I had a degree. A piece of paper that I could shove in someone’s face and say, “Here, proof that I’m not brainless!’”
“You could still go to college. Aren’t you only twenty three?” I ask.
“Studying up on me?” she asks with a laugh. “And yeah. I’ve probably got plenty of time. I just wish people knew I had a brain. I know I’m not exactly in a career for geniuses, but I’m not dumb either.”
The probably part makes me frown.
“I don’t think anyone thinks you’re dumb.”
She bursts out laughing, like genuine belly laughs until she’s gasping for breath.
“Oh man,” she wheezes. “Have you ever even been on the internet? Everyone thinks I’m dumb. It’s like… everywhere.”
“What? Why?”
“Oh.” She sobers a little, but her eyes are still sparkling. “I did a press tour for my last film. The reviewers caught me off guard b
y asking me a bunch of basic knowledge questions. Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader kind of stuff. I bombed it pretty hard. It was kind of cruel of them, actually.”
She sighs and waves a hand at my scowl.
We’re quiet for a minute as I try to figure out how to respond to that.
“Hey guys,” Elly says, leaning forward to address Karen and Alejandro. “Thanks so much for breaking me out for the day. Is it cool if we keep this trip on the down low?”
Karen and Alejandro both nod at her. I can see a glimmer of respect on Karen’s face; like me, I think she’s finding that Elly is pretty nice and grounded, for a celebrity.
I mean, she’s still a fucking brat when she wants to be. But today she’s been pretty righteous.
“Awesome,” she says. We pull up to the hotel and get ourselves inside. Karen drifts off to the other side of the lobby; I imagine she’s trying to be respectful of Elly’s space, not smother her with bodyguards everywhere she looks.
We catch the elevator up to her floor, Elly humming along with the song playing in the background.
“What is this?” I ask, glancing down at her.
She cracks up.
“Only my hit single,” she cackles. “You know, the song that’s paying all our salaries?”
“Ah. Uh, sorry,” I say with a wince.
“Not a fan, huh?” she says, but I can see she thinks it’s funny.
“Not really my type of music.”
She looks me up and down and snorts, walking out of the elevator. When we make it back into her hotel suite, I check my watch.
“Plenty of time,” I say. “I’m going to get Lawrence outside your door while I go hit the showers. Gotta look fresh for your show, seeing as how I’m supposed to be your super sexy underwear model boyfriend.”
“Is that what you’re going with?” Elly asks, grinning. “In your dreams, buddy.”
“Jealous,” I shoot back, turning to leave.
“Wait.”
I turn and find her standing all too close.
Leave now, I beg myself. Just make any excuse and fucking leave.
“You’ve um,” she taps the side of her face, then beckons me closer. “You’ve got some fuzz or something…”