Pem sneered. “Does that guy know how to do anything in private? I’m pretty sure I saw a video of his morning grooming routine, and it wasn’t even supposed to be funny.”
I walked away irritated and made up my mind right then to text Lucas. Dinner at 8?
My phone pinged with an immediate answer. Thought you’d never ask. Make it 9. I’ll pick u up. Txt address.
I looked up to find Beckett watching me. I forced myself to stop smiling. “Hey. You disappeared last night. Was everything okay with Lauren?”
“I ended it.”
I was surprised that he looked so bummed out about it. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Thanks.” His expression was neutral, hard to read. I wondered if he was lying.
Lucas didn’t say where we were going, so when the shoot wrapped for the day, I stayed in my video “show” outfit. It was strapless, black with a fitted bustier top and a full, ruffled skirt. It was more date-appropriate than anything else I’d brought with me, but I practically had to sign my name in blood for the wardrobe coordinator, promising that I wouldn’t ruin or lose the dress.
I went to the dressing room to wash off my makeup then reapplied a toned-down version. I left my hair pinned behind my ears with fat, demure curls that rolled over my shoulders. It made me look like a starlet from the 1920s.
My phone pinged. Sending Ray in to get you.
I threw my phone and lipstick in my bag and walked to the front door. A large man waited, arms crossed. “Chelsea?” he asked. I nodded. “I remember you. From the bathroom at the Roxy.” Terrific. He held the door open for me and I walked through, trying to hold my head high.
Ray opened the back door of the black SUV that idled in front. I slid in next to Lucas. “Ray remembers me,” I said. “From the bathroom.” I made a face.
“Hey, Ray. You gotta keep that stuff to yourself, man,” Lucas called to the front seat.
“Always do,” Ray replied.
I could not have been more uncomfortable. We pulled into traffic. “Hi.” Lucas leaned in to kiss me. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks. You look nice too.” I mean, talk about stating the obvious. Even after last night, Lucas Rivers giving me a casual kiss hello wreaked havoc on my conversation skills. I looked out my window. “Where are we going?”
“My friend’s turning twenty-one and she’s having a party out in Malibu.” He took my hand and brushed his thumb across my palm.
Malibu! I’d always wanted to go. (On Pop Star we spent a week rehearsing with our coaches in what was supposedly a luxurious Malibu beach house, but it was really in Santa Monica.) I tried to enjoy being whisked through the streets of LA and holding Lucas’s hand, but instead I fiddled with the automatic door lock. The clicking noise of the locking and unlocking wasn’t exactly unobtrusive. Lucas smiled. “Nervous?”
“Should I be?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But if you are, it’s pretty cute.”
When I didn’t react, he elbowed me, eliciting a reluctant and decidedly uncool grin from me. I had to stop acting like I won our date in a contest. “I just like to know where I’m going. It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re…you.”
Lucas laughed and pulled me closer. “You know me,” he said.
I looked at my phone. Committing to a late night wasn’t the best idea. Oh well, that’s what concealer and retouching were for.
The drive out there was epically long and not particularly scenic in the dark. Sitting nestled against Lucas’s side with my head resting on his shoulder as we wound up canyon roads relaxed me after what I realized had been a very long day.
We finally stopped in front of a house that was concealed by trees and hedges with a few black SUVs just like the one we were in, parked in front. Lucas, Ray, and I hurried between them to dodge the paparazzi stationed across the road. It was a tight squeeze and my dress snagged on a grille, but I freed myself before the photographers got close. They kept shouting our names. I couldn’t believe they knew it was me already.
Behind the hedges, paper lanterns hanging from trees lit up the small yard. Closer to the door, two women dressed as mermaids—totally realistic with tails, shell bras, and six-pack abs—lounged by a long, narrow indoor/outdoor pool. “Is this a costume party?” I asked.
“They provide atmosphere,” Lucas whispered, chuckling. “I knew this party was going to be nuts.”
A glass wall separated the outdoor portion of the pool from the indoor. The living room was visible beyond the pool. People danced with their arms waving high in the air and wore costumes ranging from togas to gypsy dresses (anything “exotic” and culturally appropriative seemed acceptable). As we walked in, a couple of guys came up to us. “Hey, man. You should leave. It’s half past ugly.”
“Really? Shit. Should have made an appearance earlier.” He nodded to me. “This is Chelsea Ford, lead singer of Melbourne.” Lucas introducing me with my credentials made me uneasy, like I had to justify being there.
“Awesome.”
“That’s cool. You’re the new one, right?”
I guessed these guys weren’t big music fans. “Thanks. Pretty new, I guess.” I smiled. My gaze drifted to an open room filled with soft, plush couches and chairs. Guests sat on floor pillows, partaking in the four hookahs that were stationed on a low, square coffee table.
“No you did not! You did not show up to my party three hours late!” A skinny girl with long dark hair arranged in beachy waves wearing a sari staggered over to us and draped herself on Lucas. “Hi, babe.”
Lucas did his best to shift her into a self-supported standing position. “Hi there. Happy birthday!”
Recognition suddenly hit me. The birthday girl was none other than Kate Martin, Hollywood royalty and Lucas’s ex. “Why did you come so late? Did you bring me a present?” Her words slurred together, and she kept stroking his neck with long manicured fingernails. I was about to excuse myself and go smoke whatever was in those hookahs when Kate noticed me. “Who are you?” she asked, except it sounded like “Whore yuuuhhh?”
Lucas grabbed my hand before I could run. “This is Chelsea.”
I watched Kate take in our linked hands and add everything up in her addled—but now legal—brain. “What?”
“Yeah, I wanted to stop by and say happy birthday, but we have to go. Chelsea has an early morning.”
“Is that a hole in your dress?” Kate pointed. I looked down and saw a rip in the bodice from where it must have caught on the SUV. Kate wobbled forward, stuck a finger in the hole, and tugged. A sickening tearing sound ensued. I shrieked. At first I couldn’t look. “Oops,” she said.
Lucas got between us. “Oops? Are you freaking kidding me?” He was loud enough that heads started to turn. I felt the rip in my dress. Now the top ruffle was also hanging off of it. I had to hold the fabric closed with my hand.
One of Lucas’s friends stepped forward. “Dude, dude. Just get out while you still can. It’s her birthday and she wants to be a bitch.”
Ray ushered us back outside. Cameras instantly went off in our faces. I shielded my eyes with my clutch. “You brought me to your ex’s birthday party?”
“We’ve been broken up for over a year. We’re supposed to be in the friend zone.” Lucas put a hand on my waist. “Trust me, I thought she was way over it, otherwise I wouldn’t have gone near that place.” We climbed into our SUV, flashbulbs still going off all around us. “I’m sorry. Really.” Lucas leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“I don’t mean to be freaking out over a dress, but I have to shoot in this tomorrow. Wardrobe is going to flay me alive.”
Lucas pulled out his phone and started texting. “Ray, let’s stop by my place.”
At least there was less traffic this late at night. We pulled up in front of Chateau Marmont. “You live here?” I asked.
“Just while my house is being redone,” Lucas said.
“I really should get back to my hotel.” I was already cringing about Pem’
s reaction when he found out Lucas had taken me here. He was of the opinion that the Chateau was a played-out Hollywood nightmare “where D-listers go to OD.”
“Just come in for a little while,” Lucas said. We hurried inside before anyone could spot us. “You can take off. I’ll drive her home,” Lucas said to Ray.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ray said.
“It’ll be okay.” Lucas opened the door into a spacious, beautifully decorated suite. He went into the bedroom and came out with a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. “You can put these on.”
I was about to ask him if he seriously thought I was going to fall for that when there was a knock at the door. Lucas opened it and let in a tall, very thin, impeccably dressed African American woman. She was young, probably in her twenties, but her humorless expression made her seem older.
“This is my assistant, Lisette.” He turned to her. “We have a dress situation.”
“Can I see it?” she asked. I gestured down at myself. “You need to take it off so I can look at the tags.”
I looked at Lucas and he held his hands up as if to say “Don’t look at me.” I took the clothes he’d given me and brought them into the bathroom. I didn’t even have time to put them on before Lisette handed the dress back. “I got what I needed.”
When I went back to the living room, she was talking on one phone, texting on another. “Hey, Maria, I have a dress that was being used for the Melbourne video shoot.” She went on to describe the dress. “Call me ASAP. It’s, uh, size eight.” She glanced at me as she said the size. I knew what she was thinking. She typed on her phone then made another call. She left a few more messages.
“If this dress exists, it’ll be delivered to the studio first thing.” Before I could thank her, she said, “It looks like it was let out in certain places, so they’ll need time to fit it.” She took my number and left.
I turned to Lucas. “She’s…efficient.”
He laughed. “I should take you back.” He came over to hug me.
“I’m going to get fired for screwing up the video,” I murmured into his shoulder.
“They’d be crazy to lose you. You kick Hollis Carter’s ass.”
We kissed for a really long time. Unfortunately, I was hyperconscious of the fact that I was in a hotel room with a movie star. It detracted from the moment more than would have been ideal.
—
The valet attendant ran to get Lucas’s car as soon as we approached. Even at this hour, photographers crowded the entrance, so we ducked back into the lobby. An obnoxious, neon-yellow hybrid coupe pulled in front of the building. Paparazzi rushed down the block. The valet opened the door and Lucas said, “Let’s go.”
We climbed in and shut the doors as fast as we could. Given the color of Lucas’s car, we couldn’t have made it easier for the paparazzi to follow if we’d mounted the Bat-Signal on top of it.
Lucas screeched out onto the street in a scary, reckless way. I held on to the door handle and the side of my seat. “I do this all the time,” he said, like that was comforting. “My mom hates it.”
He made a quick cut to change lanes. While it was sweet that he wanted to see me home, I was too busy fearing for my life to get all sappy about it. I closed my eyes, hoping the ride would be over soon.
We made a few sharp turns and then skidded to a stop. He turned to me. “Normally I like longer goodbyes, but…”
I gave him a peck on the lips, then jumped out. I hurried through the lobby toward the elevator bank, unable to shake the feeling of being chased.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Beckett sitting in the hotel restaurant. He was deep in conversation with a girl. They sat on the same side of a banquette, and he had an arm around her, his hand casually stroking her hair. Who was she, and why hadn’t he ever mentioned her?
I was so busy analyzing the situation that I was still standing there, gaping, when Beckett glanced over. He freed his hand from the girl’s hair, but before he could wave I turned and walked away. Clearly he had plenty of shoulders to cry on.
21
The rest of the video shoot was an ordeal. Even though the dress did exist, was delivered on time, and was paid for by Lucas, Lisette had been right; it needed altering and that shut production down for two hours.
To say that Sam and the guys were furious would be a mild understatement. By the time shooting started, no one would talk to me. I felt like crying, but that would only have angered them more. We were all tense because we had to fly out the next day no matter what.
The dress was only the beginning; none of the other problems were my fault, but the shortened time frame definitely tightened the noose. Most of the delays had to do with Pem’s and Beckett’s differing creative visions. Beckett was more obstinate than usual. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with him. I just wanted to get back to tour so things could be normal.
We worked late into the night, so I couldn’t have called Lucas even if I’d wanted to. He didn’t call me either, so I figured he was sufficiently turned off by my dress meltdown. I sent him a text thanking him and offered to reimburse him.
By the time we wrapped, we had the video but were all tired and miserable. Upon landing in Houston, we took a car service to the Bayou Music Center. I was practically holding my eyes open with my fingers. All four of us climbed on board our bus and promptly fell asleep.
I’d heard that some people went stir-crazy from the repetitiveness of touring, but not me. When it was time for sound check, I bounded onto the stage, thrilled to be back. The guys seemed to feel the same way; nothing was said about the acrimonious shoot, but I could tell we hadn’t quite put it behind us.
I caught up with Mandy before the meet and greet. She’d seen party pictures from Vegas and some paparazzi shots of me and Lucas in LA. “Don’t show those to anyone,” I said. “Those guys already think Lucas is awful; if they find out he took me to the Chateau, they’ll be brutal.”
“And you care why?” Mandy gave me an incredulous look. “You went out with Lucas Freakin’ Rivers. Those guys can suck it. Vanessa Thomas is a sun-damaged hag. Which one ended up with her, anyway? Beckett?” My displeasure at that idea must have been written all over my face. “Whoa. Down, girl,” Mandy said. “Only because he’s the most normal.”
“I don’t even want to know. Those guys think I’m a train wreck, Lucas thinks I’m a drama queen—I want to forget it ever happened. Tell me about your days off.”
Mandy sighed, getting dreamy. “I loved New Orleans. We totally have to go back sometime.”
“Were the crew guys nice?”
“Yeah, they’re always cool. Even Rob’s fun when he’s not working.”
“What was the whole ‘too weird’ thing with Nathan?”
She bit her lip. “Maybe I’m a complete dork and making it up, but I started worrying that I’d hurt someone else’s feelings.”
“Really? Tell me!” I knew she and Oscar had been getting close. “Are you following the rules?”
She nodded. “He was just being kind of protective. I’m sure he was just being a good guy.” She walked me to the meet and greet before leaving to count in the merch.
The meet and greet was the same as usual, except for a handful of girls who came over to ask whether Lucas and I were dating. “We’re just friends,” I said, not sure if we were even that. They wanted to know what he was like, whether he was as cute in person, and if he was dating anyone. This was unfamiliar territory for me, being the girl that other girls envied. I didn’t totally hate it.
We played an amazing show that night and the next night in Dallas. Our personal chemistry was still off, but oddly enough it didn’t affect the shows.
I knew Malcolm would come around eventually; he had a memory like a fish. Pem seemed like he could hold a grudge forever, so I didn’t want to go near that one.
That left Beckett.
We ignored each other through most of Texas. I knew he was still stewing about the vide
o and probably about Lauren. And I was mad at him. He’d been really hard on me with the dress problem, which wasn’t like him, and I was annoyed about the girl in LA. Was she the reason he ended things with Lauren?
I tried to appear indifferent, but truthfully I missed hanging out with him. I finally lost it on the ride to Austin.
Everyone else had gone to sleep, but I stayed up to get Beckett alone in the back lounge. He worked on his laptop with headphones on while I pretended to watch a movie.
I finally turned the movie off and waited for him to notice. He eventually looked up. “Going to bed?”
“I want to know what’s wrong with you,” I said.
“Nothing.” He looked back at his computer screen.
I went over and pulled his headphones off. “Why aren’t we talking?”
He sighed. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. Lauren, the video, whatever’s bothering you.”
“It’s all that stuff,” he said. “And some old band stuff that I won’t bore you with.”
“I don’t care. Bore me. I want to know.” He didn’t say anything. “Who was the girl in the hotel?” I knew I sounded jealous but I didn’t care.
“She’s no one. We see each other sometimes when I’m in LA.” He wouldn’t look at me.
“Is that all you’re capable of? Passing through?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because…” I searched for an answer. Nothing was coming.
“Don’t worry about it. It might not be all I’m capable of, but it’s all I have time for,” he said. “Have you finished that song yet?”
I shook my head. When had I had time?
“You should spend more time worrying about what’s important.”
—
We had a day off in Austin, and I would’ve loved to spend it running around with Beckett or even Malcolm, but everyone was still in separate corners.
Before our call time, Mandy, Oscar, and I walked around South Congress, eating and shopping. It was a welcome break from all the drama. Oscar, a native Texan, helped me pick out a pair of cowboy boots. “I dare you to wear those onstage,” he said.
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