“Oh, then I’m glad you’re only putting it on my scalp,” Cobie said. Her forehead relaxed as she leaned back, her neck cradled on a rolled-up towel over the sink. “You know, the scalp that covers my brain.”
“Yes, it’d be a shame if it leached into your brain and ruined your shot at the Ivy league, ’cause that happens all the time,” Lila said lightly as she turned the water up and began to rinse out the soap. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve been in Hollywood as long as you have without dyeing it.”
“Me too, actually,” Cobie admitted. “I’ve always played characters close enough to my own image that I haven’t had to change anything about myself. I guess it’s a reminder of how little I’ve challenged myself.”
“Telling, no?” Lila asked as she watched Cobie’s serene features more than her own hands. She really was striking. There was no use trying to deny her appeal. Everything about her was flawless, from her smooth skin to her perfectly arched eyebrows to the slight upturn of her mouth. She could easily understand why America had claimed her as one of their sweethearts, but there was more to her than a pretty face and a pliable nature. As if to illustrate that point, Cobie’s dark eyes flashed opened, revealing a reserve of depth that caused Lila to falter in her work.
“I never thought of it that way until now,” Cobie said pensively. “I always kind of thought not changing my looks all the time kept me real, or genuine, but maybe I’ve been a little too real, you know? I mean, I’m an actor. I’m supposed to slip into someone else’s skin. I like to think that it’s all about my craft, my talent for conveying emotions, but if I really inhabit my characters, Cobie Galloway shouldn’t even be recognizable on screen, right?”
“Like when you watch Meryl Streep play a role, and you know it’s Meryl Streep, but you only see a witch or Julia Child.”
“Right?” Cobie laughed, looking up at her with her sincere eyes. “Thank you, Lila. I was kind of dreading this part, but you’re good at helping me see things differently.”
“It’s nothing.” She tried to ignore the twist of emotion in her stomach. “I’m bored today, and besides, the darker and more mysterious you get, the edgier I seem by association.”
“Yeah, I love how much the press thinks I’m corrupting you. The religious right is having a conniption fit,” Cobie said as Lila set about drying her hair. “What with my gambling and clubbing and making out in dark booths and . . .” Cobie’s voice trailed off when Lila’s hands stilled with the memory.
She willed the sudden heat in her cheeks to cool but feared her shallow breathing might have given her away. She glanced down to find Cobie’s face as red as hers felt, and it only took a second to process why. As Lila had leaned over, towel in hand, to dry the longest of her dark locks, she’d practically cradled Cobie’s head between her breasts. The position that had started out as purely utilitarian now seemed glaringly intimate, if not outright erotic.
“Lila,” Cobie finally whispered.
“Yes?” The word sounded a little strangled.
“I think I can probably dry my own hair.”
“Yeah,” she managed, leaning back slowly and looking anywhere but at Cobie. “I, um, I think I’ll go tell Felipe we’re ready for him to help us with the dye.”
She didn’t wait for a response before exiting the bathroom and walking purposefully through Cobie’s bedroom.
Not the guestroom. Cobie’s bedroom. With her photos on the nightstand and her jeans tossed casually on the bed. The bed where she would sleep. She sighed. Why did everything sound so personal now?
She swung open the door to the living room. “Felipe, give me a hand with her.”
Both Felipe and Malik jumped. They shared a look, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
“Don’t,” she commanded.
“Oh, girl, what happened?” Felipe asked excitedly.
“Nothing. What do you mean? It’s time to style and dye Cobie’s hair like that drawing I showed you. You’re my stylist. Get to work.”
“Did you ever notice how bossy she gets when she has feelings?” he asked Malik.
“It’s a coping mechanism, Boo,” Malik said patiently. “She’s scared.”
“I am not,” Lila snapped. Reining in her tone, she said, “I’ve got a job to do. I want to get it done.”
“As quickly as possible?” Felipe asked.
“Yes.”
“So you don’t have to be alone in a room with a woman who makes you feel things you don’t want to?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, then processed the question further. “Wait, no. I mean, she doesn’t make me feel feelings. She makes me feel different things than feelings.”
They exchanged another look, this one oozing amusement.
“Guys.” She sighed. “I put my breasts in her face. On accident. But she was talking about Vegas and making out, and I got distracted and I—”
“Put your boobs in her face,” Felipe supplied. “Makes total sense, honey.”
She sank onto the couch. “In what world?”
“In the world where you like her more than you want to,” Malik offered.
“Ugh. This is not okay. I am not into her. She is not my type.”
“Because she’s a woman?” Malik asked.
“No. Why does everyone get hung up on the woman part? It’s not 1950 anymore. I can like women, just not this one. She’s too damn, I don’t know, earnest?”
“True,” Felipe agreed.
“She’s not going to play games,” Malik added.
“I don’t want to play games.”
Felipe scoffed. “But you’re so good at them.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree. “We have to work together.”
“And live together,” Felipe added enthusiastically. “This is going to be so much fun.”
“Felipe!” They both scolded him in unison.
“What? Come on. You’ve had a steady parade of earth’s hottest bachelors and playboys through here for years now. They have been the best of the best, the quickest, prettiest, wittiest, and most shallow human beings in the world. And every one of them fell for you, only to be rebuffed, every flipping flopping one. Despite the fact that they’re all supposedly exactly your type and well-matched in every way.” His eyes sparkled with sheer giddiness. “Now you try to fake it with a woman who’s your complete stripes-and-polka-dots-type opposite, and she’s the one who actually trips your trigger. That’s glorious.”
“That’s karma,” Malik added.
She shot him a look. “Traitor.”
“Sorry, girl, you got yourself a little of what-goes-around-comes-around here.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to go make some popcorn.”
“Make me some too,” Felipe said, taking Lila’s hand and pulling her back toward the bedroom. “Then come join us while I make Cobie even hotter than she already is.”
Lila dug in her heels, literally and figuratively, pulling him up short. “Maybe the makeover wasn’t the best idea.”
“Please, when is a makeover a bad idea?” Felipe tugged harder, but he must have seen something telling in her expression, because he allowed their joined arms to go slack. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being genuinely interested in someone.”
“I’m not sure I am,” she said defensively. “And even if I were, how would I know? I’ve pretended so many times, it all gets so muddled.”
“And you don’t like muddled.”
She shook her head. She didn’t like not knowing things. She didn’t like feeling uncertain. Uncertainty didn’t build empires. It made her weak. She had a plan, not just for today or even for the next five years. She had a plan to keep herself safe and steady and secure. And it wasn’t like she thought she and Cobie could ride off into the sunset, because clearly that was absurd. If she did feel something for Cobie, it was a momentary lapse, a spark of interest or attraction that would fade like every other moment in her life. Nothing lasted forever. She couldn’t put herself in a position to thr
eaten everything she’d fought for by indulging a disconcerting twinge of attraction that probably wouldn’t, and shouldn’t, ever be reciprocated.
She set her jaw and dug her nails into Felipe’s soft hands. “This can’t be a thing.”
“Whoa, girl.”
“I mean it,” she reiterated. “I don’t care how funny it is or how cute she gets. No one is as hot as my future right now.”
He grimaced, then smiled. “When you put it that way, yeah. You’re on fire.”
“And did I get there by chasing whims or losing my head to my emotions?”
“You did not.”
“Then stay the course.”
He nodded solemnly. “Okay, but can’t I tease you just a little bit?”
She finally smiled. “As long as we’re all clear about how this ends, cattiness may commence at will.”
He threw an arm around her shoulder and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “This is why we work: a perfect balance of business and pleasure.”
She felt a little steadier as they headed back toward Cobie. Balance between business and pleasure— she could live with that.
• • •
Cobie yawned and took a second to orient herself. She’d had plenty of practice waking up in hotel rooms, so finding herself in Lila’s brownstone shouldn’t have felt any different. And yet she could hear music overhead. The distance made it impossible to pick out a tune, but the notes that wafted down the stairs were slow and languid.
She sat up, clutching the sheets tight to her bare chest when she spotted a stranger opposite the bed.
“Shit.” She was looking at her reflection in the large mirror over the dresser. She tossed off the down comforter and padded across the room to get a better look. She’d seen the haircut the night before. It was short and shaggy, layered so she could still tuck a few of the front strands behind her ears, but instead of hanging straight down, they curled and stuck out at jagged intervals. The color added to the edge, offering a jarring contrast to her pale complexion. Jet black and lustrous, it set off her eyes, making them seem almost as dark as the dye. She barely looked like the woman who’d arrived in this room yesterday, and yet she still looked like herself, albeit an older, more mysterious version, maybe even a better, more interesting one.
She smiled at the mirror and noticed that even her expression seemed a little cockier than usual. Relief gave way to a new kind of energy, and the need to move buzzed through her. She threw open her closet door and grabbed a pair of black low-rise jeans. Pulling them on, she flipped through her shirt options. She wanted a sassy T-shirt, but Old Man Winter hadn’t quite released New York City, so she perused her way through heartier options until she landed on a black waffle-weave Henley. Turning back to the mirror, she liked the way the snug fit of the ensemble showed off her recently enhanced oblique and biceps muscles, but it was a lot of black. She wasn’t going to a funeral, so she fished through her duffle bag for a small, red box. Smiling wistfully, she opened it, pulled out a silver labrys charm, and fastened it around her neck with a polished silver chain. It went well with her standard silver three-cord ring.
Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, she cocked an eyebrow playfully at the mirror and snapped a photo. There was only one person she’d ever send it to, so she sent it quickly before she had the chance to second-guess herself.
“What in all the fucks?” Talia texted back.
“My new look. You approve?”
“I almost didn’t notice the style. Too busy being traumatized by the idea of you taking mirror selfies.”
“Ha.” Cobie shot back as her mood faltered. Her first mirror selfie. Was she seriously that person now? No, Lila was that person, and yet Lila wasn’t here. She was in her studio being a serious musician. Cobie couldn’t blame her frivolity on anyone but herself.
Her phone buzzed again. “Honestly, I’d bust you pretty hard for this one if I wasn’t afraid you’d come through the phone and kick my ass in that super fierce get-up.”
“No worries. I don’t start training with the martial arts team until Wednesday. Speak freely.”
“In that case . . .”
Cobie’s heart hung on those three little dots. She shifted from one foot to the other as she waited for more. Finally, a notification popped up telling her Talia was typing. When the message appeared, it read, “You look fan-fucking-tastic.”
She gave a little first pump.
“Do you love it?” Talia asked.
Love might have been a bit strong, but the seed of something pleasurable was certainly being nurtured in her now. “I don’t hate it.”
“What a Vale thing to say,” Talia shot back. “Go break some hearts.”
Cobie tapped back a quick message. “I’m on it.”
Bolstered by the fact that not even her best friend could manage to bust her chops this morning, she practically charged into the upstairs living room, only to find it empty. The notes coming from above gave her momentary pause, but she’d learned her lesson about barging into Lila’s studio uninvited, so instead she turned downstairs hoping to find Malik and Felipe, or at least some coffee. The room was cold and empty. She barely gave the high-end espresso machine a glance, not wanting to break her win streak by doing battle with a monster like that. Snapping her fingers as an idea came to her, she headed for the door.
The number of reporters outside had seriously decreased from the night before, but what they lacked in numbers, they made up for with enthusiasm.
“Cobie, Cobie, Cobie,” they shouted as if she didn’t know her own name.
She flipped down a pair of dark sunglasses and walked straight for them like a pedestrian game of chicken. When she was two steps away, they parted, and she breezed through, not even trying to suppress her victory grin. Now she was onto the important business at hand. She needed bagels. Good ones.
Thankfully, she did not have to go too far to find such treasures in Manhattan. She strutted down the sidewalk like she owned the dirty gray concrete, and as the reporters called her name and trailed in her wake, it felt like she did.
She reached the bagel shop two blocks down and held the door for a beautiful young Latina in a pantsuit carrying two trays of coffee and who did a double take on her way out. Then she closed the door behind her, keeping the press on the outside.
“Good morning,” she said to the teenage girl working the counter.
“What can I get for . . .” Her voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed.
Cobie lifted the glasses and winked.
The girl’s jaw dropped.
“I’ll take two whole grain, two everything, two sesame, and two plain bagels,” Cobie continued as if she couldn’t knock the kid over with a feather. “Oh, and four dark roast coffees, black with room.”
She nodded and rushed to the back like she needed moral support to complete the order. As the time ticked on, Cobie wondered if she’d perhaps passed out. Surely she wasn’t the only one working.
After about five minutes of leaning against the counter, resisting the urge to make faces at the paparazzi waiting outside, the girl came out of the back with four other teenage girls and slid a bag across the counter to Cobie. Another one offered a cardboard coffee carrier like a wise man offering frankincense to the Holy Child.
Feeling like a total badass, she tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Have a great day, guys.”
Just as she reached the door, one of them shouted, “I love your new haircut.”
She threw a smile over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
The press once again parted Red-Sea-style to let her through, and if she had to guess, a few more reporters had joined the herd as they fired a barrage of inappropriate questions.
“Did you spend the night with Lila Wilder?”
“Are you two living together?”
“Why did you dye your hair?”
“Did you turn Lila gay?”
“Are you getting butcher for her?”
“Do you care abou
t how many men she’s slept with?”
Even the last once couldn’t break her stride this morning. She honestly didn’t care how many men had been in this position before her. Nothing she felt right now had anything to do with them. This morning was all hers, and she was slaying it. For the first time, she felt like she could handle whatever anyone threw at her, on the street or on the screen. She had what it took to be a legit player. She’d only needed to see it herself, and everyone else would too.
She left the trail of flashbulbs at the front gate and jogged up the stairs, but before she could even shift the bag of bagels to her free hand, the front door opened. Malik’s hulking frame filled the entire entryway.
“Hey,” she said, tilting her head back to see his frowning face. “You’re up. I got bagels.”
“Did you perhaps also get some roses or jewelry?” he asked, tugging her inside.
“Well that’s a little forward of you. I didn’t think we’d reached that stage of our relationship yet, and what would Felipe think?”
He rolled his eyes so far back she could only see the whites of them. “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?” she asked as she breezed past him toward the kitchen, but as she turned the corner and saw Lila sitting at the marble island, she knew the answer.
“Where the hell have you been?” She wore yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and a look of sheer fury.
Cobie’s high crashed instantly, and she held up her purchases as a peace offering. “I got bagels.”
“Bagels?”
“And coffee. Maybe you should have some right away.”
“You seriously left my house first thing in the morning, just waltzed out the front door without telling anyone or taking anyone with you, for bagels.”
She thought about pointing out that ten o’clock wasn’t exactly first thing in the morning, but since everything else happened to be true, she didn’t figure it would help. “Yes.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking, and try hard to follow this logic, that I wanted some bagels.”
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