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“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Chad exclaims with a clap. “Who’s ready for a sing-along?”
Hell. No.
Thankfully, I’m rescued from the musical version of this “skit” when Bruce approaches and pulls me aside.
“They need you behind the curtain.”
“Me? Why?” But we’re already walking.
“Not sure. Jarvis asked for you, specifically.”
Any relief at being spared Chad’s weird theater production fades. This can’t be good. I have no idea why Jarvis would want me with them for any reason other than to rub the engagement in my face and provoke me into trouble.
Okay, yeah. That’s why Jarvis asked for me.
Anger mixes with dread as we walk, but I have no idea what to do. I can’t exactly refuse the request without causing drama and making myself look like the asshole. I’m out of time anyway, and we duck around the curtain to see exactly what I was afraid of: Jarvis with his arm around Larinda, and Larinda wearing her perfected stage smile.
I’ve seen her use that smile while walking on four-inch heels with painful blisters. I’ve seen it while she was deathly ill with the flu. I’ve seen it while having her heart broken from a brutal review, while being told time and again to be what they want, not who she is, and while her world crashes down on an international stage. She’s the quintessential professional and can plaster that smile on her face through incredible pain, so this smile means nothing other than she’s playing her role to perfection.
My fists clench with resentment at Jarvis for what he’s doing to her, at Larinda for letting him. At this entire situation that is wrong and complex and completely impossible. At myself for making it worse and not knowing how to get us out of it.
“Next!” the assistant managing the line says as another one ushers the current fan away. The person is still starstruck as they stagger out of view with an expression that’s the opposite of what mine must be.
Larinda looks surprised when she sees me, so whatever this is wasn’t on her radar. That is not surprising.
The next fan is already being wedged between them for the photo op, so Larinda doesn’t comment as Bruce leads me behind the photographer.
“Oh, Valerie. Excellent,” Jarvis says. “One sec. Babe, maybe come a little closer.”
He tucks his arm around Larinda and pulls her against him. That move was solely for me, and my nails dig into my palms.
I fire a glare at him but remain silent. What can I say?
“Do you think we should get a kiss shot?” Jarvis asks. Larinda snaps a look in his direction, but he plays innocent.
No chance in hell that’s happening. I don’t care about blowing up my career.
“You asked for Val?” Bruce interrupts, already annoyed—and he doesn’t even know Jarvis made him a recruiter for a petty pissing match.
“Right, yes,” Jarvis says. At least he’s distracted from the idea that was about to earn him a fist to the face. “You’re so good with technology, being a producer and all.”
He holds a cell phone in my direction.
Yep. This is more confusing than Chad’s skit.
“Um…” I glance at Bruce, but his shrug doesn’t help.
“Photos, Valerie,” Jarvis says in an irritated tone. “Hurry up. We need to move this along.”
“You want me to… what, exactly? And my name is Val.”
“Whatever. No one cares. I need you to take photos for my pages. We’ve been so busy with being famous and engaged that I haven’t had time for fun BTS shots for my millions of fans.”
Only I can see Jarvis’ targeted sneer before his expression morphs into pleasant supplication.
“You want me to take photos for your social media pages? Don’t you have a social media manager?”
Probably a whole team of them.
