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“You certainly did.” She takes off her glasses and holds up her phone.
It’s a close-up of me, probably taken right after the kiss. Eyes dilated and unfocused, I look like my insides have gone molten. The LSD grin on my face adds to the effect that I’m tripping. On him.
“Anyone else would be spamming social media with a massive Gabriel-Wade selfie streak.” You can’t miss her blatant suggestion.
“I’m selfie-conscious.” I’d rather scrub toilets than take pictures. It took me an hour to relax with the photographer who took my author photo. My smile only showed after he let me hide behind a pair of gargantuan sunglasses. And those biker boots and jacket? One hundred percent Vi.
“Good thing someone else posted then.” She messes with her screen, while I wonder if somehow that someone was her. She hands me the phone. “Keep scrolling.”
I sit up and swipe over the pictures. There’s a series of shots depicting the various stages of our kiss, a few during the interview, and more of us at my panel. Gabriel’s Photoshop perfect. I’m stunned, high, and mentally compromised respectively.
But that’s not what bottoms out my breath. The headlines under the last shot do that.Gabriel’s New Girl? Or Hotel Hookup?I give Vi back her phone. “These pictures? They’re everywhere?”
“All over social media.”
“Everybody’s going to think I’m hooking up with him.” Shame seeps over my skin like day-old, fast-food grease. And I flash back to Mom, my old high school, and the other time my private humiliation went public. For different reasons, but still.
“Relax, Little House on the Prairie, it’s not the eighteen hundreds. No one’s going to judge you, they’ll be too busy being jealous.” Vi doesn’t care about my reputation. She’d urge to me run naked through the lobby if streaking led to sales. “And your dad’s buried under deadline. He won’t even see the pictures.”
Mom might. And if they lead her to Sara and Dante andHauntedbefore I can explain...
“Dating Gabriel Wade is phenomenal free press.” Vi lifts a coffee cup from the table next to her chair and toasts me. “Your preorders have shot up twelve percent since the pics leaked. Well done, you.” Usually miles from maternal, Vi’s glowing like a proud parent.
Not that I’d know a lot about that. “I’mnotdating Gabriel Wade.”
“Since everyone thinks you are, we’re just going to run with it.” She waves me off. “I talked to Alan,The Pack’s PR guy, and he agrees we should do joint publicity.” She settles against her chair like she’s already Sharpied Gabriel into my schedule.
“No. No. No.” My staccato words match the shaking of my head.
“All you have to do is spend time with him. Preferably in public. Touching.” She flexes her toes and glances at the magazine cover. “Not a hardship. And you’re going to make a lot of money.”
“It’s not about the money.” It’s about attention Gabriel gets that I don’t want.
“Sweetie.” Vi’s endearment isn’t sugar-coated, it’s dipped in acid. “It’s always about the money. Do you realize what this means? Your local interview will be picked up nationally. You’ll trend, andHaunted’s sales will skyrocket. Maybe we even get some hype going on the book you’re turning in. I’m going to need that promo blurb.”
I push a hand against my pitching stomach. Gabriel Wade might as well have handed Vi a black hood, raised the blade, and kicked off the countdown to my execution. The story I didn’t write hangs over my head alongside the story I did like a guillotine. In less than six days, the rope’s going to snap, and there won’t be a single thing I can do to save myself.
Vi cups her hand and makes a crowd-cheering noise. “Fans are already rooting for Gabrica.”
“Whatica?” I look at her in a daze.
“Gabriel and Jessica.” She swishes her coffee. “Gabrica. Julie Ann wants pictures, interviews, autographs, swag.”
“You called my editor?” I stand.
“Right after I talked to Alan.” Vi stands too.
And I’m smaller. Always. Even when I’m wearing heels. I’ve let Vi push me into doing a lot of promotion I don’t want to do but faking a relationship to sell books is not supposed to be a marketing option. Good thing she doesn’t know he was my first kiss or selling the scoop on the deflowering of my virgin lips would be on the table too.
Maybe he won’t agree. I’m nobody in his world of celebrity. “I’m sure TV’s hottest hairball—”
“Sexiest Beast,” Vi interjects.
“—isn’t interested in doing PR with me. It’s not likeheneeds crossover fans.”
Vi perches on the edge of the chair. “What’s the big deal? You waste a week getting photographed with him”—she points to Gabriel’s cover shot—“hit the bestseller lists, and he’ll dump you when he leaves Dallas.”
Her words set me on fire. “Why am I the dumpee?”
