He kicked over to me once I’d cleared the bridge. He grabbed one of the handles of my inner tube and hung on. “You can close your eyes again. I’ll keep you away from waterfalls.”
—
We’d all agreed to be at the party by eight. Up in my room, I put the finishing touches on my makeup and pulled my hair back as Paris had instructed. After I sprayed it down so it wouldn’t move, I reached for my tie.
I tried a few different ways of tying the knot, thinking I remembered what Paris did. But she’d done it so quickly that I missed a step. I got my phone and searched “tie tying.” I forgot what Paris called the specific kind of knot. Despair was setting in. I did not want to walk into that party by myself.
There was a knock at the door and I rushed to open it.
“Come on. You don’t want to miss the fireworks.” Beckett looked so amazingly handsome. He wore dark jeans and a black blazer over a black T-shirt.
“You dressed up,” I blurted out, then noticed that he was staring at me too. The bra might have been too much. “Do I look like a cartoon?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. Yeah, I dressed up for the photos too and no, you don’t look like a cartoon.” He cleared his throat and looked away.
I somehow felt better knowing that I wasn’t the only one who had to look different tonight. “Can you help me for a sec?”
He didn’t ask questions as he followed me into the bathroom. I handed him my tie. “She said to tie it in a half nelson or something. I don’t remember.”
He smiled down at me, trying not to laugh. “Half Windsor?”
“Yes!” I spun around and faced the mirror. Beckett got behind me and expertly tied the tie. I hoped he couldn’t feel how fast my heart was beating, or at least that he’d attribute it to something other than his arms being around me. He watched me slide the knot out a little so that it hung lower, then reached around me again to tighten it a little more. We stood for a moment before I turned to face him. “Perfect. Guess being a WASP is good for something.”
He turned away. “That’s quite an outfit you picked out.”
I forced myself to snap out of it. “I know. So not me. Wait till you see the shoes.”
I slid into the gold-spiked heels and then held up the black booties. “What am I supposed to do with these? Paris told me to wear the gold ones unless I was performing.”
“Who’s Paris?”
“She picked all this out.”
Beckett took the boots from me and tucked them under his arm. “I think I like Paris.” He held the door open, and I walked past quickly so he wouldn’t see me reddening. But I had to admit, I was pleased he noticed.
19
“Anyone know who’s throwing this thing?” Pem asked as we surveyed the scene in front of us. The electronics company had slapped its logo and name on everything—banners, the screen behind the stage, tablecloths, even the cocktail napkins. “I feel like a whore.”
The company knew how to throw a party. There was a mermaid ice statue in the middle of an enormous sushi spread. The taco station offered made-to-order guacamole and specialty margaritas. A pig turned on a spit for some kind of barbecue sandwich.
Beckett walked to the bar setup closest to the stage and asked the bartender to stash my booties behind it. While he was there, he ordered a beer.
“Don’t tell me you’re feeling festive,” I said. The sun had set, but it was still too light for fireworks. I loved this time of the day, when shadowed objects defined the edges of the sky.
“I’ll get there.” He looked at his phone for the fiftieth time. I felt bad. I knew he’d been text-fighting with Lauren over the past few days. “Can I get you something?” he asked.
“Vodka tonic?” I picked something clear in case I spilled.
He looked skeptical. “You sure?”
“Just tell them to put lots of ice in it.”
Beckett turned back to the bartender, then handed me my drink. “Just don’t go overboard. At least until after we play.”
Malcolm and Pem came over with drinks. “Cheers,” I said, holding my cup up.
“Cheers.” We all clinked our plastic cups together. I smiled.
“Chelsea, you look smokin’,” Malcolm said.
Beckett shot him an irritated look. It was so quick I immediately wondered if I’d imagined it.
“You guys all look great too,” I said. Like Beckett, Pem and Malcolm had dressed up but still kept their rocker vibe. I’d never seen Malcolm perform with a shirt before.
Malcolm went off to figure out who he was going to pick up. I noticed a white backdrop against the hotel wall. A woman with two cameras slung around her neck adjusted large light reflectors.
“Should we get pictures out of the way?” I asked.
Beckett shrugged, downing his beer. “Come on, man,” he said to Pem, then led the way.
The photographer clapped when she saw us. “Perfect! Let’s do these now and then I’ll be taking pictures during your show. You’ll also see me wandering around getting candids with my assistant later. Wonderful! Okay. Where’s the other one?”
Beckett went to reel Malcolm in while the photographer took some pictures of me with Pem. “These are just test shots. Try to relax.”
I attempted to breathe and smile naturally. When Beckett and Malcolm reappeared, relief flooded my body. “Wow, what a difference,” the photographer said. “Anyone who thinks chemistry between people isn’t a real thing should photograph them for a couple of days. Okay. This is for real now.” She started snapping away.
“Oh my God. Is that Vanessa Thomas?” Malcolm asked.
“What? Where?” I asked, turning to look. If Vanessa Thomas, the famous swimsuit model, was here, I wanted to see her too.
“Please don’t geek out on us now,” Malcolm said, although he wasn’t being too subtle about looking either.
“She’s even hotter in person,” Pem said.
“Guys, camera,” the photographer said. Apparently the boys had come to life, because she muttered, “There we go. Just give me a pretty girl. I should keep one handy at all times.” Part of me wanted to laugh, but the other part of me felt like chopped liver. “Okay, we’re done.”
Another group moved in front of the backdrop. I recognized them from a TV sitcom. They had a fresh-scrubbed-but-still-fabulous air about them.
A thin whistling sound made everyone look up. The first firework exploded, a short burst of red, white, and blue pom-poms.
“Come on.” Beckett led us to some lounge chairs. We tilted them back so we could look directly up at the sky. I didn’t take my eyes off the fireworks for the next half hour. At one point, I felt Beckett watching me, smiling while I oohed and aahed over all the colors, especially the ones big enough to illuminate the sky.
After the finale, I stood up and went to the bar for my boots. The cute bartender came over. “Vodka tonic, right?” I hesitated but nodded. He fixed me a new drink and handed me my boots. “Have a great show.”
I wished Mandy were here. This poolside party on the Strip was epic, just like she’d predicted. The mood of the party was so celebratory and decadent, I imagined it was like prom—only with more attractive people, better food, real drinks, and a million times more fun.
—
“Thanks for coming out to celebrate the launch of the Stratospheric, our newest mobile smartphone!” the CEO of the electronics company said into the mike. “We’ll be announcing a few lucky raffle prizewinners throughout the evening. We’ve already given away three Stratospherics! And to help us kick things into high gear, we’ve invited the hottest band in America to play for you.”
Cheers erupted from the guests. “Please welcome…Melbourne!” she yelled.
Screams and whistles rang in my ears as I adjusted the mike stand downward. “How’s everyone doing?” I asked. More screams and cheers. “We’re excited to play for you tonight!” Pem had agreed to let me do most of the talking because this was a “low-risk environment” for me to practice m
y front-woman skills.
Malcolm counted off and we launched into our first song. We played fast and loud, and I imagined we could be heard up and down the Strip. Most guests clustered around the stage, but there were people hanging back, enjoying their conversations. I gave myself the challenge of drawing them into the show.
After our fourth song, I addressed the crowd. “Is this the sickest party you’ve ever been to or what?” That got loud screams. Beckett started the next song. We’d decided to only play up-tempo songs, but people in the audience yelled for “Smash Cut.” I looked at Beckett.
A fan had shot concert video of this song and posted it online. It wasn’t supposed to be released as a single at all (even though he wrote the lyrics, Pem said it was “too on the nose”), but now Sam and the label were talking about it as a third single due to all the views.
“Let’s give the people what they want,” Beckett said.
When he joined in, he sounded so, so good. I fell more in love with the way we harmonized every time we sang this song. I’d never asked him about it, but I think he did too.
We finished to wild applause. “Beckett Moore, ladies.” He shot me a quick smile and winked. He’d better appreciate me; this song got him more longing stares from girls than any of our others.
Our contracted hour was up, but the crowd wanted us to keep going, and we were having a great time. We played a couple more songs before saying good night. “We’ve loved playing for you, but the night’s not over yet! Thanks again for inviting us!”
I hopped offstage, changed my shoes again, and slipped my boots back to my bartender. “Do you mind?”
He took them and handed me a new drink. I hadn’t even had time to drink the last one. “Great show. You’re amazing.”
“Glad you enjoyed it!” I said. He was really cute.
“I get off at one. If you’re still here, maybe I could show you around?” He had a self-assured, almost overconfident look.
“Uh, okay. If I’m still awake.” I was sure I wouldn’t be; we’d scheduled an early flight back to LA.
“Great. I’m Ben. I’ll find you.” His warm smile made me think I should reconsider. Maybe an older guy was what I needed. Maybe I could skip right over teenage boys.
I spotted Malcolm and Pem chatting up Vanessa Thomas. She was stunning in person. I started over, hoping to find Beckett before I had to interrupt them.
Someone grabbed my arm. “Hey. I may not have your number, but I still tracked you down.”
Oh my God. Lucas Rivers. He smirked at me, his blue eyes bright with flirtation. “Took you long enough,” I said.
He laughed. “I’m happy to see you. That was a killer show.” He gave me a subtle once-over, somewhere between admiring and leering. He wore jeans and a white button-down shirt that showed off his tanned skin.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I wanted to check out the new Stratospheric, of course,” Lucas said. I narrowed my eyes. “They have a product placement deal with my next movie. I came to show the love. And when I heard you were going to be here, well, that was the icing on the cake.”
The photographer came by, her assistant in tow, holding a light. “Can I get some shots of you two?”
“Of course,” Lucas said. He took my drink and set it down on a table out of the shot. He walked back, holding my gaze, then slid his arm around my waist.
“Fantastic!” the photographer said. I’m sure my smile was ten miles wide, and I wasn’t even faking it.
“Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?” Lucas asked, his voice low so only I could hear.
“Actually, no,” I said.
“Think fun, you guys!” the photographer called.
“Should we give her some good stuff?” Lucas asked me. I nodded, struck dumb by the improbability of it all. He reached for my tie, wound it around his hand, and pulled me in close so that the distance between us disappeared. “How’s that?” he asked without taking his eyes off me.
“Phenomenal!” she said.
I could barely breathe. The photographer continued to encourage us even though we hadn’t moved, and she was getting the same shot over and over. At the last minute, Lucas leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose, somehow striking the perfect balance between affectionate and sexy.
He let go of me, the sudden space between us feeling like a cold whoosh of air.
The photographer stopped snapping. “You guys make my job easy.” She and her assistant went off in the direction of Malcolm, Pem, and Vanessa. I was positive she’d get some good pictures there too.
“Look for that one tomorrow,” he said. Of course he could be casual—his pictures showed up in magazines all the time. “Are you in Vegas long?”
“We go back to LA tomorrow,” I said.
“What a coincidence. So do I,” Lucas said. “You want a ride?”
“Thanks, but we’re flying. We have to go right to work on our video.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m flying too. I meant, do you want to come on my private jet? The studio hired it for me.”
I tried to play it off like I wasn’t impressed, but I wasn’t sure it worked. “Maybe another time.” I barely knew him. I wasn’t sure flying off with him into the sunset was the smartest idea.
“At least let me take you out in LA,” Lucas said. “Do you have time for dinner tomorrow?”
I tilted my head. Was this really happening? “I don’t know when we’ll be done shooting.”
He walked over to the table to retrieve my drink. He handed it to me and took out his phone. “Can I get your number now?”
He dialed it into his phone, then tapped send and waited for my voice mail to pick up. I’d left my phone in my room. “Hi, Chelsea. It’s Lucas. I really hope you’ll let me take you out in LA. Give me a call. Shoot me a text. Whatever. I’ll make myself available whenever you’re free. Can’t wait.” He hung up, and naturally I was grinning like an idiot.
“Let’s see how tonight goes. Then I’ll let you know about dinner.” I took his hand.
“Fair enough,” Lucas said.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. Lucas and I sat near a fire pit, out of the way of most of the action. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Beckett glance in my direction and then leave the party, phone still in hand. Ben finished his shift at the bar and sat down for a drink with a tall brunette. I even thought I saw Paris dancing with some girls. I definitely noticed Pem and Malcolm playing some kind of drinking game with Vanessa and a group of what had to be model friends.
But none of it mattered at the moment. Lucas wanted to know everything that had happened to me since we last saw each other. He filled me in on what he’d been doing—finishing up reshoots for his next movie, taking some time off before starting press on his current one.
Before long, it felt like we’d actually known each other, that we hadn’t just shared some random makeout session in a bathroom. Lucas was attentive and charming, and just like last time I found myself caught up in his spell.
I had no idea what time it was when a couple of men came over to tell Lucas it was time to go. He introduced me to his publicist and manager. Then he leaned in, not caring that they were still standing there. “Don’t forget to check your voice mail,” he whispered before he kissed me.
20
The next morning, we climbed into a town car. We all wore dark glasses and didn’t speak a single word to one another. Beckett sat up front with the driver and stared straight out the window.
Malcolm was my seatmate on the plane, and all he said was “Again with the douche bag?” Then he yawned and fell asleep.
When we arrived at the studio, Sam took one look at us and made us down coffee and water. We perked up a little and got to work, but it still felt pretty hellish.
“When the patrons finally leave the club, there should be a moment of recognition, like a pause or breath before we go into the song,” Pem said.
“Okay, we’ll all breathe befor
e picking up our instruments,” Beckett said.
“You know what I mean,” Pem said.
“No, I really don’t.” If Beckett didn’t know what Pem was saying, we were in serious trouble.
Michaela came to the set in the afternoon. She and Sam huddled over her laptop. When our director let us take a break, we went over to see what they were looking at.
“I love you guys. I ask and you deliver. Look at these.” Michaela scrolled through pictures from last night.
There were hundreds. The ones with the four of us were first. We looked a little stiff, but it could be read as aloof and cool. The pictures of Pem and Malcolm with Vanessa Thomas were hilarious. They were mostly Malcolm and Vanessa doing ridiculous poses and Pem looking on and laughing.
When we got to my pictures with Lucas, I sucked in a breath. The photographer had released what seemed like every single millisecond of our exchange.
“If you played them in a sped-up slide show, you’d basically have it on video. And I did not authorize video,” Michaela grumbled. “This is my favorite one.” She clicked on a frame and enlarged it.
It was the moment Lucas reached for my tie. My expression was guarded, nervous, but it could be mistaken for flirty. His was all cocky and suggestive. I reminded myself that he was an actor.
“And then there’s this one.” Michaela clicked on another photo. It was the kiss on the nose. My eyes were closed. I looked like I was in ecstasy, but it was just because he’d moved in so suddenly.
There were groans behind me, a chorus of big brothers.
“I’m already getting calls, asking if this is a thing,” Michaela said. Everyone looked at me, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know if it’s a thing,” I said. “I might have dinner with him while we’re here.”
“If you don’t do it someplace private, it’ll turn into a circus,” Michaela said. “Not that I’m complaining.”
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