“Fuck,” Isigh. “You’re right, Imust be your latest fangirl. Iliked the lyrics to Kill Me Maybe, does that make me your stalker now? What should Isay? Please, Jett, date me! Please!”
His cheeks blush slightly, but he acts nonplussed. He casually picks up a strand of my dark hair and places it above his lip like a moustache as if that’s something normal people do.
“Hmm, interesting proposal. You know, I’d consider it, Mads. But Ithought you said you don't date?”
“You're right!” Ihuff in annoyance and head to my solo portrait session.Did he not know Iwas joking? Of course he did. Why am Iletting an emo boy get under my skin like this?
When Ireturn, I’ve chilled out, but only for about two seconds and then Isee my mum. The one and only Julia ‘Jewels’ Morningstar. Iexpected to see her, since she had just finished an interview about her new book down the street and wanted to come here afterward to make sure Idon’t say anything too stupid or crazy inmyinterview. As if everything she says isn’t a bit wackadoo.
No, seeing her isn’t what surprises me, but the fact she’s sitting in Jett’s lapdoes. “Mum!” Ishout.
“I’m sorry, Mads!” Jett wraps his arms tighter around my mother as if he has magically staked some claim on her. “It’s just – your mum is so young and gorgeous, Ithought she was here for me!”
Mum, who is beautiful but certainly notyoung,especially compared to who she's sitting on,turns pink and bats her eyelash extensions at him. She fixes her black and platinum streaked hair that’s piled up on top of her head while Ishake mine.
“You want my dad to pummel you? Here, I’m gonna snap a pic and send it to him!”
Jett genuinely looks worried at the prospect of pissing off my dad. Iknow he’s a fanboy, Iknow he wants his approval. And this is how he chooses to go about it?
“Oh, he won’t mind!” Mum says with a schoolgirl giggle, “Why didn’t you tell me Jett was like a clone of your dad? It’s uncanny how alike they are. Come look at this, Baby!”
She doesn’t mean physically a clone, tongue studs and hair dye weren’t a thing when my dad was young. Must be the matching accents or the similar rocker energy and insanity. Isigh and walk towards mum holding out Jett’s arm for me to read. ‘Blackened earth and a sky of grey, still love persists, come what may.’
Dad’s lyrics tattooed on Jett’s arm? Amuch better way to impress him, Imust admit. His eyes are trained on mine. Inod thoughtfully, not sure what to say, but Idon’t need to say anything because the editors and photographers come grab us for the big photoshoot.
Everyone is rushing around, and Igrab Mickie’s arm for support. Ithink she’s quickly becoming my BFF since we spent hours dancing together that night and have texted every day since. I’d left school at sixteen when Ilanded my TV gig and earned my diploma early thanks to an on set tutor, leaving all my old friends in the process. Icould really use one now, considering the girls I'm surrounded by on set just glare at me like I'm competition.Could Mickie be what I've needed so badly?
“Girl, why does Jett keep looking at you likethat?”
I don’t bother turning my head to see whatthatlook is. “Mickie, he’s in love with my dad, his music, his persona, but definitely not withme.He’s probably just … confused.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, snapping a selfie of the two of us twinning. Imean, we’re all twinning, except for Jett’s pink Stratocaster slung over his shoulder.
“Wanna hear what my brain brewed up last night?” she asks.
“Yes…” The makeup artists touch up shiny faces, but the photographers look ready. “Quickly!”
She takes a deep breath and then goes zero to sixty. “A fantasy series about an evil princess who kills her family so she can become queen, but then a wizard casts a spell on her so she doesn’t remember that she’s evil! She just thinks she’s this good, innocent young royal that would never hurt her family, so the wizard puts her through all these crazy trials to prove she reallycanbe trusted to rule the kingdom! They’d make it into a big HBO show, and you’d be the star! What do you think?”
“Even if Tubi makes it, I’d say yes!” Ilaugh, right as a photographer snaps us.
We’re told to pose this way and that way, and suddenly we’re shuffling spots, and I’m between the new Seahawks quarterback, who’s six foot a thousand, and that soon-to-be supermodel, Alessandra. Ihave no shoes on to even help me get aslightleg up on her outrageous height,what is she, five eleven?Since I’m five foot three on a good day, Idon’t want her making me look squat.
The cameras click, and Isneak behind her and a few others, popping back into the line right next to, of course, Jett. He’s the same height as Alessandra, ugh.Ineed my heels!Itry to sneak back behind the row and find a new spot, but Jett’s hand splays firmly across my lower back, and he tugs me back in the lineup, our sides practically glued together.
“It’s like I’m a magnet and you’re steel,” he gives another explosive grin with all his teeth, and there’s that ridiculous tongue. Why is he sticking it out at me? It’s easily the length of the palm of my hand, if not longer.Like a cow.Why doesn’t he idolize Gene Simmons instead of Dad?
Cameras click, and Isigh. “Shut up, please!”
He does, momentarily, then slings his guitar over me, leaning in to do a chord, and Ipretend to strum cutely. The assistant editor eats that up and sends a second photographer over. Itismy favorite color other than black, after all. An assistant makes the guitar disappear after several more snaps of the camera.
Everyone gets momentarily distracted by the demands of a singer-songwriter girl who thinks she’s the next Taylor, and Ifeel steel, all right, pressing against my back, right at my beltline.
I feel blindly behind me, finding Jett’s hand holding a cool flask. Our fingers brush as he puts it in my hand, ignoring the static that tingles between our fingertips.Just nerves from today, that’s all.
“I like the way you shoot whiskey,” he whispers, grinning at me like the Cheshire cat. Iguess that means Igotta drink some, wondering why Ilike the idea of Jett thinking I'm a badass when Iwant everyone else thinking I'm some sort ofangel.
I duck behind his back and take a swig, sliding it in his back pocket and popping back up like I’d merely sipped water. He scratches my back playfully but says nothing. It’s like, one second, he’s annoying as all hell, and the next, he’s decidedlysweet.Ican’t keep up.
