Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Garrett called while I was driving to Studio City. I almost didn’t answer because I didn’t want to tell him my hair was now a shiny, rich brunette with hints of gold and auburn. Moreover, I didn’t want to tell him he had been right. I was afraid that going brunette again would instantly make me look seventeen, gawky, fresh off of Magical Melody. Instead, when Pierre was done, I looked in the mirror and saw a completely different person. For the first time, I looked like an adult. Not a teenager, not a girl in her rebellious early-twenties phase. Someone to be taken seriously.
I loved it.
“I hate it,” I told him when I answered on the last ring.
“Then you’re blind.” His voice came down the line lazily. “I’m looking at a picture now and you look amazing.”
The compliment knocked my next snarky comment right off my lips. “I–you have a picture?”
“Pierre sent Noemi one, and she sent it to me. You look great, kid.”
I hadn’t been aware that a bubble of pleasure had been expanding in my chest until he called me kid. The word lanced the bubble right through the center. I gritted my teeth, profoundly irritated. For a second, that compliment had gone right to my head. For a second, I’d felt like maybe, finally, Garrett would stop seeing me as a kid.
And for a second, I really wanted that.
I hung up on him, wishing I’d followed my first instinct and not picked up at all. Something about Garrett set me on edge, discombobulated me. I needed his help, I trusted him because Noemi did, but still–I found myself overwhelmed by him. Confused by him. Confused by myself.
When I got to April’s Place and saw Andrew waiting for me, a huge grin on his handsome, affable face, I felt myself relax for what felt like the first time in days. Since the yacht girl scandal broke, really. I didn’t even know that my chest felt tight, and my muscles felt rigid until he hugged me, and the tension flowed out.
“You look beautiful,” he said, nodding to my hair. “When did you change it?”
“I literally came from the salon.” I shook it back, inordinately pleased by it considering how hard I’d fought the change. “I have some auditions coming up.”
Andrew had moved beyond auditions by this point in his career, but he nodded understandingly. “Makes sense. What are you auditioning for?”
I’d thought that it would feel strange to be here with Andrew now that our roles were reversed. Once I had been the star, first on the call sheet, and he had been the recurring character who had worked his way up to series regular. Now he was commanding ten million a film, and I was considering selling one of my properties to pay Garrett. But the thing about Andrew was that he elevated you. It was part of why he was such a good actor. By the time our food came, I almost felt like my old self–-confident that my future only held more success.
Then Andrew said, “I guess we should talk about the logistics, right?”
And I blinked. “What logistics?”
He laughed. “You know. Do you want to hold hands? Do you want to kiss? Whatever you need. I’m at your disposal.” His smile faded, his eyes uncrinkling as I continued to stare at him, nonplussed. “Destiny? Are you okay?”
I hadn’t said a word about Garrett’s plan, but somehow, he knew. I hadn’t even been sure I’d go through with asking him–maybe a couple of public lunches would be enough–but somehow, he knew.
Mortification swept through me like hot lava. The great and terrible thing about being an actor is that your emotions live so close to the surface, you can’t really hide them very well. My cheeks went as red as my hair used to be. The rest of my blood pooled somewhere around my feet. My chest was so tight that the air quivered in and out of my lungs, harsh and raspy.
“Destiny, come on. It’s not a big deal. It’s part of the game.” Andrew covered my limp hand with his. His fingertips brushed the bracelet his character had given mine, and he grinned. “That’s a good touch.”
“I–” I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t sure I was really going to ask you. Who…”
“Your crisis manager got in touch with my people. You’re going to be my date for the Fires Below Us premiere. I thought you knew.”
I shook my head, a new emotion pumping through my veins. It drove out the numbness that had set in.
Rage.
And I knew just who to direct it at.
I got Garrett’s address out of Noemi and drove there so fast that even if paps had been tailing me, they wouldn’t have been able to keep up. It was a thirty-minute drive, but the time did nothing to clear my head. Neither did his sweeping view of the canyon that I could see over the roofline of his low, rambling house.