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I had other jobs already lined up, so as soon as we wrapped up the show for the final episodes in February, I could take my pick of whatever role I wanted.
“Miss Stevenson, you have a package in your dressing room,” Freddie, the director’s assistant, informed me when he spotted me.
I gave him a small smile. Freddie was possibly the least annoying person on set, so I always tried to be nice to him. “Thanks. I’ll get it later.”
After I spent over an hour getting my makeup redone for the second time that day and I had to deal with the torture of putting on that stupid blond wig I hated so much, the afternoon passed in a blur of take after take. I was ready to drop by the time I made it to my dressing room. The couch by the window seemed so inviting, enticing me to lie down for an hour or two for a nap before I drove home, but I wanted the comfort of my own bed more.
I grabbed my gym bag that I brought with me every day and held all my essentials, then I spotted the medium-sized package Freddie had told me about earlier. When I picked it up, it was surprisingly lighter than I expected. A courier must have dropped it off, because I didn’t see a return address, just my name and the address of the studio where my show was filmed five days a week for twenty-plus weeks of the year.
Figuring it was work-related since the director’s assistant had put it in my dressing room, I decided to open it when I got home. Yawning, I walked out to my car and quickly put the top up since the temperature had dropped now that the sun was down.
Traffic sucked, so it was almost an hour later before I walked into my apartment. I dropped my bag and the box before engaging the locks and making my way into the kitchen. I had a housekeeper who came in during the week to tidy up and cook me some dinner so my mom didn’t worry I wasn’t eating right.
Pulling the food container out of the fridge, I saw Carol had made grilled salmon with asparagus and wild rice. I popped it into the microwave and decided to call Palmer back.
“Have you been on any of the socials today?” my best friend demanded in greeting as soon as she answered.
I grabbed a bottle of water and uncapped it, rolling my eyes. You would think she was the actress with how dramatic she could be at times. “Nope. I’ve been too busy to worry about social media land and everyone’s shit today.”
And I knew she would give me all the highlights anyway, so most of the time, I just waited for her to give me a rundown on all our mutual friends.
By the time the microwave dinged, she was still talking a mile a minute and I was a little bored with her recounting of the social media soap opera. I put her on speaker and just let her talk while I ate standing up by the sink. I didn’t even hear half of what she said. I was half asleep and only wanted to fall face first into bed.
“I don’t know what he sees in that bitch anyway. She’s not even close to being in your realm of hotness. And have you heard her laugh? Ugh. So annoying.”
The disgust in her voice made me smile, even though I didn’t know who she was talking about.
“Tell us how you really feel, Palms,” I laughed before taking the last bite of my dinner, and then I rinsed the plate. Licking my lips, I put it in the empty dishwasher and then grabbed one of the tiny chocolate caramel truffle balls that I indulged in for dessert most nights. I needed something sweet after dinner, but I couldn’t risk gaining weight from eating the way I really wanted to. Those truffles saved my career and my thighs.
She gave a disgusted grunt. “She’s so trashy, Arella. Admit it, you think so too.”
“Of course she is,” I agreed, still unsure who she was talking about.
“Anyway, I heard she lost her mind when he was seen out with the Danish princess or whatever she is.” She gave a snort. “Now that’s a hot piece of ass I’d like a taste of.”
My grin was so big, it made my face hurt. I’d known Palmer was a lesbian from the time we were in middle school. She might even have had a crush on me at one point, but once she realized my heart was with Jordan, she’d moved on. She’d never made her sexual orientation a secret to me, but she hadn’t come out to anyone else, especially not her judgmental mother. I wasn’t a fan of Veronica Abbot, but her husband, Trent, was pretty cool. I knew he wouldn’t disown his daughter if she came out to him. Veronica, on the other hand, would lose her mind.
“The redhead or the blonde?” I asked, trying to picture which Danish princess she was talking about.
“The redhead, duh,” she scoffed. “Jordan is all about redheads, and we both know why. You’ve said so many times that he’s secretly in love with Mia. I mean, Letizia even has that pretty dark-red hair. It’s about the only thing pretty about her, if you ask me.”
Suddenly, my dinner and the truffle were no longer sitting happily in my stomach. Of course she was talking about Jordan and Letizia. My tired brain hadn’t put it together, but now that I knew who she was talking about, I wanted to hit rewind and not even have called Palmer back.
I didn’t want to think about Jordan Moreitti or any of the redheads he’d been blowing up social media and the trash mags with over the past few years. He was my friend, and we still hung out on occasion, but ever since my eighteenth birthday, our once-close relationship had disappeared.
It was annoying, because most of my extended family assumed that just because I went out to dinner or a movie every now and then with Jordan that I was waiting with bated breath for him to come to his senses and be with me. The truth was, I’d moved on the day after my eighteenth birthday. Jordan was nothing more than a friend, and that was the way it was going to stay.
There was no fucking way I was going to ever give him that kind of power over my heart again.
Even though I didn’t trust him with my heart, he was still fun to be around. When we hung out, he gave me his full attention. But I knew as soon as I was out of sight, I was very much out of his mind. He’d been fucking Letizia on and off for the past year or so, from what I could tell through social media. We never talked about his sex life, though. I doubt I could have stomached hearing all about the women he warmed his bed with.
The redheaded chicks who all looked eerily like Mia.
Holding back a sigh, I listened to Palmer talk shit about Letizia and then spout a few sonnets about the Danish princess’s amazing ass before I told my best friend that I needed a shower and my pillow.
My heart felt heavy as I ended the call. On my way to my room, I had to pass the front door. Seeing the box I had yet to open, I picked it up and carried it into my bedroom with me. Setting it on the end of my bed, I grabbed the pair of scissors out of my nightstand and sliced through the tape.
Fighting a yawn, I lifted the flaps and was annoyed when I found a crap-ton of packing peanuts on top. “Really?” I groused. “What is even in here?”
