Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Shit.
Their former publicist had gone nuclear after all, on the night of Leander’s big premiere, no less.
Right as he faced the gauntlet of the red carpet.
5
$HIT HITS THE FAN
Immediately I dialed Leander’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Shaking my head, I dialed Milo instead. It rang, at least.
“Pick up, pick up,” I hissed into the phone, but it just went to voicemail. “Shit!” I stared down at my phone as notification after notification popped up. I clicked on another one and then wished I hadn’t.
I only saw a tangle of bodies before I immediately shut the window, stabbing repeatedly with my finger before actually managing it.
Dialing the last number I had, I hit Janus’s number as I ran back up the stairs, glad I’d gone for my casual flats instead of heels, no matter what Makayla might think. I checked the clock on my phone.
Jesus. They should be arriving any minute. What the hell was I going to do? What if they didn’t see the news ahead of time and weren’t prepared? Now that I thought about it, I remembered Milo mentioning something about a ritual of going phone dark before premieres so Leander could get in the right head space.
I wondered if Geena knew that too and had timed it this way intentionally. Knowing Leander would be walking into this blind. What a bitch.
Well, it was my job to fix what other people broke, and I couldn’t be precious about it. So I girded my loins and fought through the people clustered in the foyer.
“Sorry, excuse me, I need to get through.” And, “I’m so sorry, pardon me.” That to a big tall guy after I’d elbowed him in the side when he wouldn’t move. One way or another, I made the sea part for me, until I was to the door itself.
Lena Clark, Leander’s beautiful costar, was perched in the doorway, chatting and giggling with an entourage of friends.
“Hi, excuse me, coming through,” I called as I barreled towards them.
Lena only glanced my way, then laughed to her friends and stayed put.
“Pardon me,” I said, louder as I got closer.
Lena turned her skewering gaze on me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing out here? The waitstaff is supposed to stay in the back.”
Waitstaff? This dress was designer! Just wait till I told Makayla. See, no one could tell the difference between a designer dress and Target after all. A little black dress was a little black dress.
I gave her a flat smile. “I’ll tell them if I see them. Now please move aside.”
Her eyebrows went up tartly but one of her friends tugged her to the side. “Just move aside, Len? Can we not get into a catfight for one night?”
I didn’t have time for this. I lightly pushed Lena to the side, just enough so I could get past her.
She made a shocked, offended noise but I couldn’t care. I was on a mission to warn the twins.
I heard her and her friend chattering, probably about me and my rudeness, and rolled my eyes. But it was literally my job to protect Leander, and Janus too for that matter, because they were kind of a package deal. A Janus scandal would just be as bad as Leander, and the fact that this involved both of them…
The air of the cool night hit me like a shock after the stuffy insides of the theater, along with the noise of the roaring crowd, but I didn’t let it slow me down.
The red carpet was long, lined with photographers, videographers, and journalists of every stripe. Beyond them were fans crowded around, all hoping for a glimpse of their favorite celebrity. It was an amazing turnout. Calm theater attendants helped usher along the less notable attendees while encouraging celebrities to linger, a hundred microphones shoved in their face as more and more limos lined up down the block.
But as I looked down at my app, I saw Milo was pulling up next.
Crap, how was I going to get to them in time?
Without being able to call them, the only way to communicate with them was, well, the old-fashioned way.
So I ignored the attendant who called, “Ma’am, where are you going? You can’t go backwards down the carpet!” and headed down the steps, dodging a woman in a gorgeous hoop ballgown and making a sprint for it.
“Hey!” someone called behind me. “Stop her!”
I held up my press badge over my shoulder. “I’m allowed to be here,” I called, my eyes zeroed in on Leander’s limo.
They were pulling up to the carpet and I saw half the gathered folks pulling out their phones and checking them—no doubt because they also had the same celebrity news notifications lighting up their screens.
I used the moment of distraction to shove another theater attendant aside just as he’d opened the door to the limo and Leander peeked a head out, about to step out into the chaos.