Once they both faced the plate glass, Cobie jammed her fists into her pockets, and Lila smiled brightly at her reflection before slipping one hand under Cobie’s right arm and curling her fingers around the firm biceps. Then she used her other hand to take hold of one of Cobie’s belt loops and cocked her hip so it angled toward her. With one final touch, she leaned in and whispered, “Look at us,” before placing a feather-light kiss on her cheek.
Cobie’s chest rose dramatically as the adorable shade of pink flushed hot under the darker mark left by Lila’s lipstick. The phrase “hook, line, and sinker” came to mind as Lila stepped back and marveled at the fact that wooing women didn’t seem to require any different skills than wooing men. Any residual concerns she held about her ability to maintain the charade evaporated.
Once she’d broken the contact completely, she turned to face their captivated audience. Every set of eyes had gone wide, even Malik’s, which served only as confirmation for what she’d already known. They were sitting on top of a goldmine.
“Can anyone in this room honestly tell me they don’t want to see that image on the cover of every magazine in America?”
“I think I speak for all of us when I say that’s exactly what we want,” Mimi gushed.
“Everyone?” Stan swiveled his chair to look at Cobie, who continued to stare at her reflection, or perhaps past it.
She didn’t immediately answer him, and Lila’s chest tightened, first with anticipation, then with something approaching dread as the silence stretched on. Startled, she realized she wanted Cobie to say yes. Somehow, somewhere underneath the understanding that this little publicity stunt would likely benefit Cobie every bit as much as, if not more than, her, Lila wanted her to accept with a fervor disproportionate to the amount of press she stood to gain. It had been a long time since she’d let herself want something from someone else and even longer since someone had made her work for the answer she desired. She didn’t like being made to do so now, but even as the resentment bubbled up, so did the suspense.
Finally, Cobie turned, her expression blank and her complexion pale. Lila held her breath until the woman before her nodded slowly and said, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
A collective sigh of relief whooshed through the room, and Lila hoped the others had been too caught up in the gripping plot unfolding before them to notice her own reaction.
“Very well,” she said curtly. “Stan, Mimi, work out the timeline and text it to my personal number. I’ll have a few outfits sent over to Cobie, labeled with when to wear them.”
“Outfits?” Cobie blinked as if waking from a trance.
“We’ll have to coordinate somehow, and Lord knows I’m not letting you choose my attire. It’ll be best for everyone involved if you just let me do the heavy lifting for a while.”
Stan clasped Cobie’s shoulder. “She’s right.”
Cobie hung her head, resignation weighing down her shoulders. “I guess wardrobe is the least of my worries for the next six months, isn’t it?”
Felipe’s laugher finally got the better of him, and Lila didn’t even try to reign it in anymore. Instead, she tossed Cobie a practiced smile and said, “For that, you get to keep his hat.”
With a wave of her hand, Felipe fell in beside her and Malik stepped in front as they all moved toward the door in unison.
“Wait,” Cobie called. “What do we do now?”
Lila threw a smile over her shoulder and said, “Await my directions, then follow my lead.”
“That’s all?”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be enough. If you keep your eyes on me, you’ll do just fine.”
Then she walked away, certain that in spite of minor lapses in judgment or emotion over the last half hour, she’d managed to leave on a high note.
Chapter Two
“She sent me clothes to wear,” Cobie said to the dashboard of her Tesla Model 3.
“Are you wearing them? Are they cool? Do you like them?” Emma asked in rapid-fire teenage tone.
“Yes, I guess, and I guess,” she said as the car made another self-directed turn. She was more thankful than ever for the autopilot feature because there was no way she could watch Manhattan traffic and the GPS at the same time.
“Cobe, I need more. My sister’s going on a date with my favorite singer in the whole world, and she dressed you! Don’t make me wait to see it in People magazine like everyone else.”
“People, oy.” Cobie pinched the bridge of her nose as the stress of the idea hit her like an icepick to the brain. “She dressed me like Patti Smith, okay. Exactly Patti Smith on the cover of Horses.”
“What? Who?” Emma asked.
“Patti Smith, black pants, white shirt, skinny tie. Emma, it’s iconic. Google it.”
Emma giggled. “Okay, but it sounds super gay.”
“So gay,” Cobie confirmed with a smile, thinking of the note Lila had pinned to the tie telling her to leave it untied. “And she left me written instructions on how to wear it, like I can’t figure out how to dress up like a punk-rock goddess. Em, what am I doing?”
“You’re being awesome,” Emma said with a hint of adoration. “I can’t believe she wants to date you. All my friends will die. Hey, can you get me backstage passes?”
“Hey, this phone call is about me,” Cobie said dryly.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m fourteen. I’m selfish. It’s allowed.”
Cobie laughed. “Yeah, I guess. I’m going to hang up on you now, though. I’m a very famous celebrity. It’s allowed.”
“Totally,” Emma agreed. “Send me a selfie, ’kay?”
“Totally,” Cobie agreed. “Love you, Em-an-Em.”
“Love you, Corn Cobe.”
She pushed the disconnect button on the dash and looked around the intersection where the car had stopped. She was definitely in the Village now, the one area of New York City she liked. She used to make it a point to walk by Stonewall every time she came to the city in the early years. At first she was too young to get in, then too closeted. She made the iconic bar her first stop after coming out, but by then she was too recognizable. She got mobbed before she’d really had the chance to reflect on her surroundings. Maybe she’d go back sometime, like on a weeknight, dressed down, when things relaxed.
Her chest tightened as she approached the restaurant and saw the paparazzi waiting in hordes outside. A little voice whispered in her ear saying nothing would ever settle down again. She told it the same thing she had for days. She wanted this. Or she needed it in order to get what she wanted. She wasn’t doing anything different than researching a character or working out or dying her hair to get a part. Though as the car pulled to a stop and the cameras swiveled in her direction, it sure felt different.
In an instant, Malik was pulling her door open, and the paparazzi went wild. She’d experienced this kind of flash fest at red carpet premieres and award shows, but never while walking into a restaurant. Her natural instinct to flee took hold. She started to duck back into the car, until Malik put a massive palm on her shoulder and lowered his hulking figure to her ear. “You look great. Now follow me like you own the place, ’cause tonight, you do.”
Either the words or the low timbre in which they were delivered calmed her dramatically. She glanced up at him and smiled broadly, realizing it was the first time he’d spoken in her presence. She liked him immediately, but before she could say so, he returned the bodyguard scowl to his face and straightened up.
He was playing a part too. He’d slipped for her benefit, and now he was modeling good behavior by getting back to work.
Work.
The realization hit with sobering accuracy. She was here to play the role of someone hounded by the press. The press had taken their position and waited for her to step onstage. So had Malik. So had Lila. These people were her supporting cast for the next six months. They needed her to buck up and show up ready to play the part she’d agreed to play.
She blew out a heavy breath, roll
ed her shoulders, and nodded. “Let’s do this.”
He motioned to the valet and nodded for Cobie to follow him.
Tossing the black jacket Lila had sent over her shoulder, she lifted her chin, fixed a stoic expression, and followed him through the crowd.
Lila was waiting at a table near enough to the front window to be seen from outside. She stood as Cobie approached.
“Nice entrance, stud.” She kissed her on each cheek in the European style, then stepped back, but Cobie caught her with a hand lightly on her hip before running her gaze up Lila’s body from her tight, black leggings to the oversized olive sweater clasped low enough on her chest to show a delicious hint of collar bone.
“You look lovely,” she said. “Cozy, not overdone.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I just thought maybe since you’d dressed me as a famous rock star, you’d follow suit and dress up like Freddie Mercury or Prince.”
Lila threw back her head and laughed loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room, even though there wasn’t anyone sitting at the other tables in their immediate vicinity. “I’d think being on a date with an actual famous musician would be enough to hold you over for now.”
Cobie smiled and pulled out the chair for Lila. “Well-played.”
They sat opposite each other, and immediately a waiter appeared. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“We’ll take a bottle of the Renwood Amador and two waters, no ice,” Lila said confidently.
As the waiter left, Cobie leaned in and whispered, “I don’t really drink a whole lot of alcohol.”
“Good.” Lila picked up the menu. “Do you eat pizza?”
“Normally, but I’m supposed to be easing off the carbs because my trainer—”
“Your trainer will have to work you harder tomorrow.”
“Sure.” Cobie smiled. They were already at a trendy Italian restaurant, so she might as well go all in. If the scent of fresh bread baking offered any indication of the quality, she wouldn’t regret it. Still, she didn’t know if she liked Lila calling all the shots without consulting her. Aside from being a bit intimidating, it also didn’t bolster her reputation as a take-charge ass-kicker, which was the whole point. “Will you order for both of us then, or do I get to make a decision at some point?”
“You can order for us, but the decision-making portion is still a maybe,” Lila said matter-of-factly. “When the waiter comes back, tell him we’ll have the pizze prosciutto arrostito and the pizze boscaiola. Can you handle that?”
“I’m pretty good at learning my lines,” Cobie said with a twinge of defensiveness, then tried to lighten up by adding, “I mean, not to brag or anything, but I’ve got some Teen Choice Awards at home for doing just that.”
“Really? Teen Choice? That’s a big deal.”
“Four of them,” Cobie said with fake superiority.
“Huh, four. Well I was about to say we should get your Teen Choice Awards together with my Teen Choice Awards for a play date,” Lila said with a frown, “but I have five of them, and I would hate for one of mine to be left out.”
“Ouch,” Cobie laughed, “zapped again.”
The waiter approached the table with a bottle over his arm and two glasses cradled in his palm.
Lila nodded for him to serve them, and he poured a small amount into each glass. Cobie mimicked Lila in swirling it around before sniffing and eventually sipping. The flavor assaulted her tongue immediately as the sweetness blossomed across every taste bud like liquid sugar, but she used every bit of acting talent she had to keep her expression neutral and nod seriously to Lila who said, “It’ll do. Thank you.”
He poured them each a glass and set the bottle between them. “Are you ready to order?”
“Yes, I’ll have the pizze prosciutto arrostito, and Ms. Wilder will have pizze boscaiola,” Cobie said clearly, without glancing at the menu.
“Very well, Ms. Galloway,” the waiter said and left them alone once again.
“How did I do?” Cobie asked, sitting back.
Lila shrugged. “I’m not sure it was enough to get you another Teen Choice Award, but it should at least put you in the running.”
“I’d better have something to show for that performance, because that wine is terrible, and I played it straight.”
“You did very well. Not so much as a twitch. And by the by, that’s a dessert wine, so it’s supposed to be sweet. Also, it’s 175 dollars a bottle.”
“Then I’m glad I didn’t sputter it across the table at you.”
“Me too, seeing as how this sweater cost a lot more than the wine.”
“But you can afford it,” Cobie said.
“And so can you,” Lila replied airily.
“And that’s what we want to remind people?”
“Never hurts, but mostly we’re letting them see us throw caution to the wind,” Lila explained. “A nearly 200-dollar bottle of dessert wine ahead of a 15-dollar pizza. Look at us, aren’t we whimsical?”
“We are indeed.” Cobie raised her glass.
Lila clinked it with her own. “To the whimsy stage of our adventure.”
Cobie smiled at the beautiful woman across from her as they both pretended to drink from their glasses and the cameras flashed just outside the window.
“Is this killing you?” Lila asked.
“No,” she admitted. “It’s odd, but I guess no more awkward than the first day on a movie set.”
“How so?”
“Early on, we always do a read-aloud where the cast sits in chairs and we go through the whole script, each of us reading our lines,” Cobie explained. “It’s like being the new kid at school, trying to figure out what the norms are here, like are you just going to read through and be chill? Or are you going to get into character and really act out your lines?”
“What do most people do?”
“That’s the thing. You never know until you get started. So, like, if I start out just reading normal and the person beside me brings it hard, I look lazy and talentless, but if I go all in and open up screaming my head off and everyone else just mumbles through, I look totally overzealous and uncool.” Cobie laughed lightly. “Either I underdo it and people think I’m no Meryl Streep, or I sell it hard and everyone is like ‘Oh, so now you think you’re Meryl fucking Streep.’”
“And that’s how you feel tonight?” Lila asked softly.
“A little,” she admitted, suddenly feeling the need to fiddle with her napkin.
“Would it shock you if I said I felt the same way?”
“It would,” Cobie said quickly, then after a few beats asked, “Do you?”
Lila’s smile turned coy. “If I did, no one would ever know.”
“Right.” Cobie nodded. “I walked right into that one.”
“Come on,” Lila said. “You’re on a date with a famous pop star, drinking expensive wine and eating pizza in a trendy Italian bistro. You’re the envy of people the world over. Surely you’ve had worse jobs.”
Cobie smiled in spite of her insecurities. “I worked at an orthopedic shoe store for one summer when I turned sixteen.”
Lila grimaced. “Please tell me an evening with me ranks higher than that, or price tag be damned, I will throw a glass of wine in your face.”
“Well . . .” Cobie drew out the word, pretending to weigh her options. “Yeah, I guess hanging out with a beautiful, talented, famous woman for the next six months has its upsides, but dating you won’t offer me an employee discount on bunion pads.”
Lila laughed, not a full, head-back, belly laugh, but a genuine, melodic sound of joy as her smile reached her beautiful eyes for the first time. Cobie’s breath caught at the sight of something real behind the polished façade and finally said, “Maybe it won’t be all bad.”
• • •
“Can I get you anything for dessert,” the waiter asked as he cleared their plates.
“Yes. I’ll have the tiramisu, and Ms. Wilder will hav
e a crème brûlée with berries.”
Lila tried her best not to look surprised, but as soon as the waiter left, she pursed her lips.
“What, you don’t like crème brûlée? ’Cause I can eat both. I’m already down for a double workout tomorrow.”
“First of all, you will not touch my dessert. Second of all, you went off script.”
“Dessert’s always on script,” Cobie said casually.
She should probably stand firm. She didn’t want to give her date the wrong idea about who was in charge here, but she couldn’t find fault with her logic. “I suppose we haven’t really been here long enough to make people think we’re having a good time, so I’ll allow it.”
“You’ll eat dessert to make people think you’re having a good time with me? That’s the only reason?”
“It’s the primary reason.”
“And will that be hard for you? To convince people you enjoy my company?”
Lila thought about the question for a while, mostly to keep Cobie waiting. The conversation had largely centered around neutral topics like mutual acquaintances, schedules for the upcoming months. They hadn’t dug too deep, but neither had they struggled to keep the dialogue going. As far as fake first dates went, this one ranked higher on the enjoyment scale than most. Cobie wasn’t a riot, but she had a sense of humor and good hygiene, and she didn’t seem completely self-absorbed. Still, she played her emotions close to the vest. After an hour together, Lila still wasn’t sure how Cobie felt about what they were doing, and she didn’t want to be the one to crack first. “I’ve got a job to do, and as far as jobs go, it’s not a bad one.”
“I don’t know. The schedule Stan sent over looked pretty intense. The middle months look more like a Broadway schedule, five nights a week and Sunday matinees.”
“Have you been on Broadway?” Lila asked.
“Yes. A few years ago, just a bit role between films.”
“Well that’s a first for me,” Lila said. “I’ve dated musicians and screen actors, but never anyone with a theater background.”
“I’d have thought being your first female date would’ve been enough in the notoriety department.”
In Development Page 4