Page 37 of The Actress Unscripted

I scroll quickly through the computer, and there it is: Jett Carter, cabin # 1.

Followed by Violet King, cabin # 2.

I stare at the screen, resisting the urge to do some kind of victory dance, then quickly plaster a smile on my face as someone approaches the bar.

It doesn’t necessarily mean they’renotsharing a cabin, of course. Itcouldjust mean that they’repretendingnot to be sharing a cabin, because they think it might look unprofessional, or they don’t want to have to deal with the inevitable gossip. So they booked two, but only use one. Maybe he stays at hers every night. Or she stays at his. Hell, maybe Violet booked an entire cabin for her luggage; McTavish did say there was a lot of it.

But it couldalsomean that they have separate cabins because they have separate lives. That the whole “Jett and Violet back together” thing is just an act — a way to drum up a bit of extra publicity for the movie.

Let’s face it, it wouldn’t be the first time Jett had gotten himself a fake girlfriend. I should know: I was the first.

I’m so confused.

I check the time on my new phone, wondering if I can clock off yet and go home. I have so much to think about; is Lochlan Bell really my father; is Violet King really Jett’s girlfriend?

Is it just me, or does it feel like everyone’s lying, and everything’s fake?

PING!

I’m so keyed up that the message alert makes me jump. I grab the phone again, hoping it might be Darcey Hall getting back to me with some information about my potential dad, but it’s just another message from Alex Russell.

There are way too many reporters in my life these days. I’m starting to forget which is which.

I’m not, though. I know perfectly well that Alex Russell is the sleaze who tried to get me to sell my story about me and Jett; and, as soon as I open his latest message, I know I did the right thing by turning him down.

Hi Lexie. Sorry to hear our deal wasn’t of interest. Look, I’ve spoken to my boss, and we’re happy to add another £10K to the fee, if that changes your mind? We’re looking to do an in-depth exposé on the Carters — Jett and his dad — and I have a feeling you might enjoy taking them down as much as I would. (Loved the video with the French fries, btw: that was genius.) Maybe we should meet, so we can talk about it face to face?

I shudder with revulsion as I block his number from my phone.

An “in-depth exposé”???I might want to “take them down”?

French fries?

“What a dick,” I mutter, wondering briefly if I should just type that back to him, then deciding against it. I’ve managed to get enough bad publicity from the media in my time evenwithoutgoing out of my way to insult reporters, so it’s probably not a good idea to start now, however tempting it is.

“Here ye go, Lexie. That’s you done for the night. You’ll be needing these, though.”

I look up to see McTavish standing in front of me, holding out an envelope full of cash, and a set of car keys. I frown in confusion.

“Car keys?” I ask. “Do you need me to drive someone somewhere?”

And do they not have chauffeurs for that?

“It’s the keys to one of the company cars,” McTavish tells me. “We have a few o’ them that we keep here for collecting guests from the airport and the like. And my pal who’s fixing up yer car, well, he hasnae managed to get round to it yet, so I thought yemight as well use one o’ ours, now that you’re working here. A perk o’ the job.”

Okay, this time I’m sure he’s lying. Bar jobs don’t normally come with “perks” like company cars and free iPhones. And, even assuming Emerald Viewdidkeep a fleet of cars for their guests, why would they give one of them to a temporary barmaid?

“I… I can’t accept this,” I say, pushing the hand holding the keys away from me. “Honestly, it’s fine; I’ll just call a taxi. Are those my wages for tonight? I can use that to pay for it.”

“I’m notgivingyou the car,” Lexie, McTavish says, amused. “Cool yer jets. It’s just a loan, until yours is fixed. And anyway, ye cannae stay here waiting for a taxi; Violet’s assistant just phoned to say she’s on her way over to use the gym, so I need ye oot o’ here before she sees ye.”

He glances theatrically over his shoulder, and even though I still suspect he’s lying to me, I’m scared enough of seeing Violet again that I don’t need to be told twice: I grab the keys and the envelope, and am running for the door before he can change his mind.

“The car’s round the back o’ the clubhouse,” McTavish calls after me. “Parking space 3. See ye tomorrow!”

I give him a quick wave, then dart out into the night. The sun’s gone down now, which makes me glad I don’t have to make my way out to the main road in the dark; there are lights stuck into the ground all the way from the clubhouse to the gates, but, even so, this place is too secluded for it not to feel just a little bit creepy.

If Justin Duval ever fancies making a horror movie, this could be the place for that one, too.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com