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Kendall
“I’d better not lose you once you start filming,” Charlize said from the other side of my love seat, a fluffy white blanket covering us, our matching painted toes resting on the coffee table.
“Please. That’s impossible. I think I’ve proven my love to you already.” I wrapped my arm through his. “And that love is wicked fierce.”
He twirled a chunk of my hair around his finger. “I just needed the reassurance.” He leaned forward to refill our wineglasses, draining the last of our first bottle and moving on to our second. “What I didn’t tell you while we were getting pedis is that I lost a gig yesterday.” He rolled his eyes. “The other artist is super talented, and she’s nice and cuddly and all the things, but I’m feeling a little bruised about it.”
I turned toward him, gripping my glass. “What? But you’re a freaking genius and—”
“Staaap. I know I’m fabulous. I’m just a little sour—that’s all.” His brows scrunched together. “Speaking of sour … why haven’t you brought up the Instagram post that hideous flower shared today?”
I didn’t know if it was the wine, but it took me a moment to realize who he was talking about.
“Daisy? No. I’ve been avoiding her page. Why?”
He pointed at my phone. “Go look.”
I set down my wine and lifted my cell off the table, clicking on the app. Her post immediately came up in my feed. It wasn’t a photo or video. She’d shared a screenshot of a quote she’d written.
I thought you were my person.
But the knife you stabbed me with just cut off the big red bow that sat on top of my new Benz.
You can’t hurt the girl who’s on top of her game.
—Team loyalty
XO
There was no question; that post was about me.
Especially since the one I’d shared this morning on my newly verified account was of the headshot the studio had taken of me and an announcement that filming was starting in the morning and I couldn’t be more excited to be representing the show.
“Not very girl next doorsy, is she?”
“No.” I pointed at my glass without looking at it. “Fill it to the brim, please.”
Once I heard the sloshing stop, I picked it up and downed several gulps, going to Daisy’s profile at the same time. It had been several days since I’d looked at it, and I scrolled through her recent posts, seeing photos I hadn’t manipulated and videos I hadn’t shot.
She had clearly found someone to replace me. I was happy for her; she needed an assistant, and I obviously couldn’t be that person. But what my trained eyes saw were videos that were extremely choppy, the cuts not matching, the quality poor. The pictures hadn’t been taken in good lighting, and the digital mastering hadn’t been smoothed out; it appeared like she was trying to hide her imperfections and had done a shitty job.
I returned to the post from a few hours ago.
The one that was so unnecessary, so callous and self-serving.
“Someone’s going for the sympathy vote, huh?”
I sighed. “Yep.”
“Should I tell that honey babe that jealousy isn’t a good look on anyone?”
My hands began to shake, my stomach churning.
“Do you think everyone knows she’s talking about me—but not really talking about me because we both know I didn’t stab her anywhere, especially not in the back? I mean, my God.”
“I think her stalkers do, but that’s it.”
I felt my eyes widen. “What does that mean?”
“You just landed one of the biggest reality shows that’s ever going to hit TV. It’s really peculiar that she didn’t congratulate you or share the show, like every other famous sister in her shoes would do.” He pushed the wine up to my mouth, encouraging me to take a sip. “She also hasn’t posted any pics or stories of you two since you got fired. You haven’t liked or commented on her posts, and she hasn’t on yours.” His fingers went to my shoulders, trying to ease the pain. “Trust me, her loyal fans have noticed.”
“Ugh.”
My finger hovered above the Following button. If I pressed it, I would unfollow her.
I was sure that would be noticed too.
But in this moment, I wasn’t sure I cared.
He took my phone away, setting it on the table. “Don’t even think about it. She’s the bad guy here, not you, sister.”
I shook my head, slumping into the couch. “I know; you’re right … I’m just pissed.” I took a drink. “And hurt.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling our hips closer, the sides of our cheeks now smashed together. “You know that’s her plan, don’t you? She wants you to feel like shit while her twelve million followers tell her how amazing she is and how pretty and how she’s the best thing since nude gloss.” He clinked his glass against mine. “Now, that’s a bitch who likes her ego stroked like it’s the longest cock in the world.”
“If I wasn’t so upset, I’d probably be laughing.”
“Honey, don’t let that hideous flower get under your flawless skin.”
I turned my face toward his. “She’s beautiful.”
“Ish, but she’s certainly not you.”
“God, I wish she’d stop acting like such an asshole.” Emotion moved into the back of my throat, and I hated that it was there. “Because she should be here with us, sharing this love seat, celebrating that I start shooting tomorrow.”
He clasped his fingers around mine. “You have me, and I’m going to glam you up, so when you go to that pool party tomorrow, you’re going to look and feel fabulous.”
Each deep breath caused my chest to tighten, but I fought through it, not letting a single tear fall. “I adore you. Hard.”
“You know I feel the same.”
His phone chimed, and he picked it up off the table, his jaw dropping while he read the screen.
“What’s going on?”
“You know how I said the world is soon going to realize how much of a cunt Daisy is? Or maybe I just thought that in my head and didn’t actually say those words to you.” His lips went wide, showing his teeth ground together. “Well, it’s happening.”
He handed me my phone from the table, where the latest Celebrity Alert was on the screen.
BREAKING NEWS:
