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“Hey, Bec,” My smile feels tight on my face. “Long time no see.”
She tosses her hair, and her laser-white teeth reappear. “It has been a while. Happy birthday, baby.” If she planned to plant a kiss on me, she adjusts on the fly and gives me a hug instead.
“Thanks. How did New York treat you?”
Her smile widens. We’re on her favorite subject—her. “Like a queen.” She gives a careless gesture with her hand. “Parties, parties, parties, meetings, meetings, meetings. I did the spread for Vogue and met with a director about a small but crucial role in a movie he’s filming this fall. I’m headed to Milan next. You should come with.”
“Good luck with that,” I say, deliberately ignoring her request. At some point I know she and I will need to have a conversation, but not tonight. “This”—I put my arm around Kendall—“is my friend Kendall. Kendall, this is Becca.”
“Hi,” Becca breezes as she takes stock and tries to figure out whether she should recognize Kendall. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”
Shit. They have seen each other. The night I met Kendall for the first time. Shame makes the back of my neck hot. The last thing I want is that night brought up in front of everyone. I make a conscious effort to stop my leg from bouncing.
Kendall cuts me a brief don’t-worry glance then shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
Relief swarms my chest. She’s got my back.
“Sweatbox Shred at 220 Fitness with that sadist, Antonio?”
“No. Sorry. I don’t sweat with sadists, and I’m just visiting for the summer. House-sitting for my aunt and uncle next door.”
“Oh.” The notion momentarily stuns Becca. “You’re a student?”
“I was. I graduated from NYU this past spring.”
“Nice. So what next?”
“Law school.”
Becca shivers like the very idea chills her to the bone. “Sounds awful.”
Kendall tenses and wiggles out of my hold. Rather than reply to Becca she turns to me. “I’m going to grab some water.” Then she offers a perfunctory, “Nice to meet you,” to Becca and walks away.
“Same,” Becca calls to Kendall’s retreating back before her attention jumps back to me. “Congratulations,” she says quietly. “I hear you’re now on the short list for America Rocks.”
All I really want to do is shake her off and follow Kendall, but she can and will disrupt a party just to get attention, and I don’t want to inflict her on everyone. “Thanks. How’d you hear?”
“Not from you, my so-called friend. You’re a freaking vault.” She slaps my chest a little too hard to be playful. “A little bird told me, and your dad confirmed when I called to find out about your birthday plans.”
That explains a lot. Naturally my father would take it upon himself to invite Becca to my party. He’s the one who introduced us several years ago because, in his words, “She’s photogenic and she has a fan base, but she won’t overshadow you.” Touching, right? “Tell the little bird to be quiet. The producers will make an announcement once they’ve reached a decision.”
Her shrug promises nothing. “Well, you know how little birds are. Is that Molly?” she asks, nodding to my agent’s assistant.
“Yeah. Go say hi. Tell her about New York.”
“I will.” She takes a step in her direction and speaks over her shoulder. “After everyone leaves, I’ll deliver your birthday present. Upstairs?”
I want to permanently pass on the present, but saying so right here, right now, is no way to finesse this situation, so I give her a noncommittal smile. “Not this year. Have fun in Milan.”
She pulls a face, and for a second her eyes look anguished before she blinks, and I wonder if I’m seeing things. “I will.” Then she makes a beeline toward Molly without a backward glance.
I scan the deck for Kendall. She’s standing near the cooler with a bottle of water in her hand, looking out over the patio, but she senses my stare and glances at me. She packs a lot of messages into one simple glance. Messages like, What the hell am I doing here? And, What the hell is she doing here? And, I want you, but I wish I didn’t.
I shove my hands into my pockets and send her a silent request for forgiveness. I’m suddenly ashamed I have someone like Becca in my past. Someone I used and let use me because it was easy—at first—and convenient, and I didn’t want to make waves. It occurs to me I go to great lengths not to make waves. Be charming. Never let it seem like anything gets to me. I don’t know Kendall well yet, but I know she’s not like that. She’s not putting on an act, and she has no ulterior motives. If she’s with someone it’s because she wants to be with him. Right now, today, she wants to be with me. That makes me special—and all the more determined not to mess up.
“You want me to get rid of her?” Dylan stands beside me, speaking low. He looks toward Becca.
Right. As if that would go well. “Thanks, but no. As soon as she works the party and realizes there’s nobody particularly useful to her, she’ll leave.”
