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I turned to leave, just as one of the wardrobe girls came in with a shirt forme.
“Not that one,” I said, and walkedout.
CHAPTERTHREE
Katie
I’d never felt so outof my element in mylife.
The thing was, I’d been sitting on the sidelines of my own life for so long that I’d kind of forgotten what my elementwas.
Which was how I’d ended up here. I’d let my best friend convince me, Katie Bloom, regular girl with not one shred of modeling or acting experience, that I could play super-cool girlfriend-of-a-rock-star in Jesse Mayes’ hot new musicvideo.
What the fuck was Ithinking?
Today was the first time in my life I had legit palmsweat.
I rubbed my palms on the plush robe, my hands tucked into the pockets as I followed Maggie through the massive house she said belonged to Jesse’s manager, Brody, the guy with the tattoos from Devi’s office. I’d met him for real this time, and he had this intensely sexy business-meets-rock-’n’-roll thing going on that made me all tongue-tied. I was relieved when the incredibly nice Maggie rescued me from that conversation. Same, when she did it again with Zane. Because what the hell would I say to Zane Traynor, the most charismatic frontman to rock a pair of leather pants since JimMorrison?
Yeah, I’d hit up Google since getting hired for thisthing.
Alot.
Dirty’s lead singer had the body of a love god and a voice he’d clearly sold his soul to the devil for, and yes he was gorgeous, but I only stared at him because it was that or get sucked into eye contact with Jesse Mayesagain.
And that was a serious threat to mysanity.
When the man looked at me, things happened to my body that I could only describe as temporary but all-consuming hormonal insanity. It was dizzying, thrilling and terrifying, and I needed to get my shit together before we shot this scene. I was supposed to be all cool and girlfriend-like, hanging out by his side at a party or whatever, not swooning like a pent-up virgin who might combust if he bumped shoulders withme.
It didn’t help that he’d brought all his larger-than-life friends to theshoot.
Sure, I’d seen pictures of all the members of Dirty on the web. But since this shoot was for Jesse’s solo album, I didn’t expect Zane or Dirty’s drummer, Dylan Cope, to behere.
What the helldidIexpect?
Maybe some kind of sterile sound stage with an efficient, all-business film crew calling theshots?
This felt more like a party, people crammed into every room of Brody’s architectural marvel of a house, which was in North Vancouver, up the mountainside in Canyon Heights, and probably cost high sevenfigures.
The film crew looked a lot like what I’d always thought roadies would look like, the roadies looked like criminals, the security guys looked like straight-up bikers, and the management team, which consisted of Brody, Maggie, and various underlings, looked like rockstars.
Jesse, Zane, and Dylan? They looked like something out of a Greek goddess’s masturbationfantasy.
I’d never met people like this in reallife.
When I’d first arrived, Maggie had mercifully plucked me from a roomful of women who looked like they’d come straight from backstage at a Victoria’s Secret fashion show. I must have looked as out of place as I felt in my Rolling Stones T-shirt, paint-splattered jeans and purple kicks; apparentlyallmy jeans had paint on them, which was something I’d only realized thatmorning.
Honestly, what the hell was I doinghere?
For the second time today, Maggie deposited me in one of the upstairs bedrooms that had been taken over by the wardrobe team, promising to fetch me in tenminutes.
Ten minutes until my scene with JesseMayes.
My palms were sweatingagain.
The wardrobe girls freed me from the robe and stood me on a little platform to stare at me. Which wouldn’t have been all that weird, given their profession, if I wasn’t totally naked except for a bra and panties. It was definitely not my comfort zone, but since there were only a couple of models and the wardrobe girls in the room, and they did this all the time, I tried to convince myself it was no bigdeal.
Not terrifying in theslightest.
