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“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupted, not really wanting to hear the grim details. “You’ll be kissing someone else, Jett. And…doing stuff.That’s not anormaljob, is it?”
“It’smyjob, though,” he said. “And you knew that when you met me. Did you think I’d give up my career when we started seeing each other? Is that what you expect?”
“No. Obviously not,” I muttered. “I know how much your career means to you. I know how much you want to do this movie. But I … it’s hard for me, is all. Thinking of you with someone else. It hurts.”
“But itshouldn’t,” he said, coming over and wrapping his arms around me. “Because there are no other women for me, Lady M. There’s only you. You’re the only one I want to kiss. Or ‘do stuff’ with.” He grinned devilishly, and I smiled back at him in spite of myself.
“It’s just acting, Lexie,” he said, as if that was the end of the matter. “That’s all it is.”
I told myself he was right; that it didn’t have to be a big deal. Itwashis job, after all; and, okay, it might be a blisteringly strange one to people like me, who weren’t from that world, but it wasn’t like he was cheating on me, was it?
“As long as it’s not Violet,” I said, thinking I was making a joke. “I can deal with it being anyone except Violet.”
Jett just smiled tightly. And now he’s off with Duval, doing screen tests with actresses whose names he hasn’t shared with me, and who I haven’t dared ask about, because I’ve beenworking on the probably misguided notion that what I don’t know can’t hurt me.
All of a sudden, though, I want to know. I pick up my phone and send him a quick message.
Hi! How’s it going? Have you managed to find The One yet?
I pause for a second, then add a smiley face to the end, so it doesn’t sound too much like I’m fishing for reassurance that I’m the only ‘One’ for him — which, of course, is exactly what I’m doing — then wait for a few seconds for him to reply.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t reply the whole time I’m forcing down Jakob’s disgusting smoothie, while I’m doing my yoga workout by the pool, or when I’m mooching around the house afterwards, switching TVs on and off, picking up books and putting them back down again, and completely failing to find some way to fill my time thatdoesn’tinvolve thinking about how my boyfriend’s job requires him to kiss some of the most beautiful women in the world.
Jett still hasn’t replied by the time I hit the shower, or even by the time Jakob arrives with the hair and makeup artists he’s booked to help get me ready for the Gala.
“Oh. My. God.” he says dramatically, as he sweeps through the door. “Look at the state of you. We should have started thishoursago, Cinderella.”
“Yeah, good to see you too, Jakob,” I reply, hugging him. “Thanks for the smoothie, by the way; I hated it.”
“I aim to please,” he says, his snarky tone belying the fact that he’s actually become one of my closest friends since I’ve been here. Catty comments are Jakob’s love language, though — which is probably why we get on so well. “I know you’re not supposed to praise your own creation,” he says a couple of hours later, when I’m finally ready. “But this definitely works.”
I look at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a short gold sequined dress, which is somehow performing the miracle of making my legs look longer and my hair more golden. The make-up artist has expertly plumped my lips and emphasized my cheek-bones, and I look absolutely nothing like myself.
“Yes, this is perfect,” pronounces Jakob. “Come on, I think the car is here.”
“Wait,” I say, frowning. “Jett’s not here yet. “I can’t go without him.”
“You’re meeting him there,” says Grace, appearing behind me with her phone in her hand. “He just messaged me. The casting went on longer than he thought, so he’s going to get changed at his mom and dad’s place and head in with them.”
“Oh. Right.”
My stomach instantly starts churning with nerves. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this event anyway, but I’m outright dreading it now I know I’m going to have to run the gauntlet of the red carpet without Jett to hold my hand.
The Carter Foundation Gala is kind of a big deal. The foundation itself was launched years ago by Jett’s parents to support various charitable causes, and the yearly Gala is one of the events of the year, with a guest list that reads like a Who’s Who of Hollywood. It’s also the place Jett and I made our first “official” fake-dating appearance together, and I didn’t exactly cover myself with glory that time (By which I mean I fainted in front of the world’s media), so I was kind of hoping I might be able to redeem myself this year, now that we’re dating forreal.
“Just try to act normal,” says Jakob, as he helps me get into the waiting car without creasing my dress — a feat which is significantly harder than it sounds.
“You don’t know what you ask of me,” I reply through gritted teeth.
He says something in response, but it’s too late; the car’s already pulling away, so I sit back and give him and Grace a mournful little wave, feeling a bit like Marie Antoinette, being driven to her doom.
I’m not sure whether to be relieved or worried when the car bypasses the red carpet that’s been laid outside the LACMA , where the Gala is held, and deposits me instead at a rear entrance, where I can scuttle inside without being photographed.
I guess I’m only interesting when I’m on Jett’s arm, then.
Once inside, I step quickly through the throng of guests, searching for Jett, who I finally track down, standing next to a table near the front of the room with his parents and… Violet King.
