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“That’s not a great idea. You haven’t had any media training.”
“So?” I asked. “How hard could it be? I can tell them what’s going on.”
“They’ll twist your words,” Wyatt said. “Print them out of context. Make you look even worse.”
“It’s not hard for journalists to cut ‘there is no evidence that strawberries are toxic’ down to ‘strawberries are toxic’ just to get more readers.”
“Especially journalists who are going to take Brooke’s side because shedoeshave that media training,” Wyatt added. “Even if she ignores it and does whatever she wants half the time.”
I looked out the window and watched the landscape fly past. We were driving through farmland; short grass stretching in all directions, tree-covered hills in the distance, the land dotted with cows, sheep, and eucalyptus trees.
My chest was tight. I felt useless, and it wasn’t something I was used to. When I’d taken on the role of Daisy, I’d expected to struggle with the acting side of it, but this felt like a far biggerproblem. If I sucked at acting, there were steps I could take to fix it. But this felt like it was entirely outside of my control.
“What can I do then?” My voice felt small and quiet.
“Nothing,” Wyatt and Isaac said in unison.
“Sit and wait,” Isaac said. “These days, the media works in twenty-four-hour news cycles. This will blow over quickly and everyone will forget about it.”
He seemed so certain, but when I looked at the article in my mind’s eye, I couldn’t un-see the headline or those photos. Surely everyone else would remember it, too.
“If you don’t say or do anything to substantiate the stories, they’ll run out of steam,” Wyatt added. “You’ll just have to be careful for a while.”
I slumped down in my seat. Did that mean I couldn’t hang out with any of the guys? That we couldn’t be seen together in public? That Wyatt and I couldn’t fool around again?
“What about the theater? Surely you don’t want to be seen with me now.”
Isaac took my hand and squeezed it. His grip was surprisingly strong.
“Like I said, it’s a group of actors doing professional development. Don’t make out with us on the red carpet, and you’ll be fine.”
I had the sudden mental image of me on the red carpet, making out with Isaac, then Wyatt, then Dean… and hell, why not, Brooke too, while camera flashes erupted like fireworks around us. It was such a funny idea that I burst out laughing, cackling so hard that Wyatt pulled the champagne out of the console and double-checked the label.
“Are yousurethat champagne’s non-alcoholic?”
29
ISAAC
Kyla clearly had no idea how hot she was, but I did. Wyatt did. So did Dean, and even Brooke.
If Brooke felt threatened enough to sabotage Kyla’s budding movie career, there was a reason for it. And I’d be willing to bet my entire salary forPushing Daisythat it was the fact that Kyla looked stunning both on and off camera, and her lack of acting experience was irrelevant compared with her naturally husky voice, Russian looks, and her eagerness to learn.
All qualities that Brooke didnothave.
The car reached the city and while the traffic was thick, it kept moving. The theater was in the central business district and there was no parking, so we pulled up in a taxi rank while the driver let us out. A few people milled about outside but since the weather was so hot and humid, most people were inside, either in the foyer or already seated.
I half expected the entrance to be swarming with paparazzi, but there were none, and we walked inside with a few people glancing curiously in our direction, but nobody taking pictures of us.
The theater was one of those two hundred-year-old buildings with high ceilings, ornate decorations, and wide sweepingstaircases that led to the upper levels. Kyla took in the grand ceiling with her mouth open and I grinned — I was so used to these kinds of buildings now that it was nice to see them through someone else’s eyes. We bought drinks and snacks and filed through the gold-plated double-doors to the tiered seating.
“Where should we sit?” Kyla asked, and I led her and Wyatt to our assigned seats, where she sat between us.
Kyla opened a bag of crisps and tilted it in my direction. I took a small handful and munched, the salt and vinegar making my tongue tingle. The second time I reached into the bag, I could feel her hand through the foil packet and it made my cock lurch.
Stop it, I ordered my body, but it didn’t listen. I could see the photograph of Kyla smiling at me in the tabloid article, followed by the headlineF*CKING HER WAY TO STARDOM, with the letter U replaced by the star in what I thought was unnecessary censorship. I never got involved with colleagues, but what if shedidfuck me? That article was already out there, and how could I kill my career when it was technically already dead?
Pushing Daisywas my last-ditch attempt at giving it mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
