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Sure, they had boyfriends here and there, but I kept away any potentially predatory producers, agents, or promoters who gave me bad vibes. Nobody was gonna take advantage of my girls on my watch, that was for damn sure.
I might look like sugar and spice, but I had a spine of steel—and anyone who’d ever crossed me or my clients knew it.
“But I’m sure Leander and Janus aren’t assholes,” Makayla continued.
I shrugged. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“But surely you’ve met them already? What were they like?”
“It was a very brief meeting, when I got the job last week. Since then I’ve just been working with their manager. It’s all been a rush since we leave on the press tour tomorrow.”
“Ooo, a press tour? That sounds interesting. How long is it?”
“Three weeks.”
There was a pause, and Makayla had her scheming face on. “What if they really aren’t assholes? Or even if they are. So what? Maybe that’s the perfect way to get rid of your V-card. Fuck a Mavros twin and get it out of your system.”
My mouth dropped open. I looked over my shoulders again, then hissed back at the camera. “I cannot believe you of all people are saying this! Screw a celebrity just because they’re a celebrity?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s different with guys.”
“That’s totally sexist.”
Makayla lifted the phone closer to her face and rolled her eyes harder. “Look, we can be all politically correct when we’re in front of cameras. But in my experience with men—”
“Since when did you go out and get all experienced? You’re nineteen!”
“Yeah? That’s legal. Plus, you were the one who got the condoms for me and Johnny. What did you think we were—?”
I laughed out loud then whispered, “Johnny Jackson does not count as a man. And you told me you were having sex. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Well, I’ve done plenty of exploring since Johnny. I know you’re Hope Robins, practically perfect in every single way, and look, if you’re Ace or still exploring your sexuality, that’s totally cool, I don’t mean to pressure you—”
“It’s not that.” I shook my head.
“’Cause it’s totally cool. The LGBTQ community is super welcoming. I’ve got a bunch of friends who are—”
“Jesus, Mak, I still fantasize.” I felt my cheeks blush bright and hot. “And, um, I’m pretty sure about my, orientation or whatever. I like guys.”
Makayla watched me with that penetrating gaze of hers before shrugging. “Okay, okay, I’ll back off. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill ya to loosen up a little. Especially now that you aren’t looking after kids and teenagers anymore. Leander’s a big boy who can look after himself. You gotta enjoy the glitz and glamour, babe! There’s more to life than work. Isn’t that what you were always telling me?”
“Yeah, ’cause the afterparties are so my thing,” I mocked sarcastically. “Come on, Mak, you know I can barely stand up in heels. That’s why I always loved the Nickelodeon premieres where I could wear my Doc Martin’s.”
“Oh God, tell me you aren’t packing those things on this trip.”
“No comment.”
“God save us all,” Makayla moaned into her camera, making me laugh again. “Now, go find a mirror so I can see what you’re wearing, because God as my witness, if you’re pulling that shit where you’re wearing a dress from Target again, I will send my entire design team to Cinderella your ass for your next press event.”
“No, no, I learned my lesson,” I said. “It’s a lovely black Christian Siriano.”
“Black?” she asked, sounding disappointed.
“Yes, so I blend in with the background, exactly as a publicist ought to.”
Makayla sighed. “Are there even any sequins on it?”
I made a gagging noise. “I don’t do sequins.”
“How are you going to get laid without sequins?” Makayla wailed until I turned the sound down to one bar on my phone.
I didn’t tell her that, on an extremely dumb impulse I already regretted, I had tossed a box of condoms into my duffel. The box—one of many—hadn’t been meant for me; I’d bought it for Destiny when I’d been on tour with her last summer.
I wouldn’t need it. It was only a three-week long publicity tour anyway.
How much trouble could I get myself into in three weeks anyway?
Just then, an alert popped up on my phone.
And I almost dropped the damn thing.
“Shit!”
“Oh my God, did you just cuss? I’ve never heard you cuss in ten years of knowing you.”
“S-sorry, Mak, I g-g-g-gotta go. Love you, talk later.”
“Hope, why are you stuttering? What’s going on—”
But I just waved and then hit the red button.
Because looking down at my phone, I saw that even though she’d sounded pleasant enough when I’d called two days earlier to set up a meeting for next week—solidly after Leander’s premiere—
My eyes tried to deny the headline they were reading splashed all over one of the top celebrity gossip sites: Breaking News! Mavros Twins Sextape!
