“And if you actually get the parts?”
“That’s never happened before, so I wouldn’t know.” I shrug. “Besides, I need to start looking up classes that meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays for next semester so I can figure out how I can still pursue acting and commute to Harvard without my mom ever knowing?—”
“Stop.” He slows the car to a stop and looks over at me. “You don’t need to figure out a better way to lie, Scarlett. You just need to live your life and let everyone else deal with it.”
“Easy for you to say,” I say. “Your father isn’t a criminal, and his name isn’t Lucas Hunter.”
“My father is currently…” He doesn’t finish that sentence. “Your father can only get to you if you let him.”
“Maybe you need to look through his files again.” I cross my arms. “I may not know everything he does, but if he wants to get to me, I assure you he’ll move hell and high water to make it happen.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But he’d never get the police involved… Only his top lawyer, and I have a good feeling he would never snitch on you.”
“Yes, well…” I don’t have a rebuttal for that.
“Stop lying.” He leans over and kisses me hard. “You don’t need to do that anymore.”
“I’ll try.”
“Try hard,” he says. “And check to see if you got the parts.”
“Now?”
“Yes.” He nods. “Right now.”
“My best friend Jeneva would’ve called or texted me if I did, so… I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
He shifts the gear into park, making it clear that we’re stuck here until I obey.
“Jameson, please don’t make me,” I say. “It’s too soon.”
“It was yesterday.” He points at my phone.
I sigh and pick it up, logging into my profile.
The plays I auditioned for still say “Pending” instead of the red “No Offer” like usual, but the one my mom showed up to?
There’s a bright green “Selected. Main Role.” right next to my name.
My heart nearly combusts, and I suck in a deep breath in disbelief.
“I got it…” I say. “I fucking got it!”
My mind races with possibilities, with potential schedules and rehearsals, and I feel Jameson’s lips on mine again.
“Hey! What the fuck?” “MOVE!” “You’re parked in the middle of the street!”
Cars behind us honk, and we pull away.
Laughing, Jameson drives forward.
His hand finds mine again, and we settle into the silence once again.
When we make it to his place, he ushers me into his bedroom and turns on the lights.
“I have to work on a few cases tonight,” he says. “Don’t hold it against me.”
“I won’t.” I look around. “Can I use your shower?”
