Imagine having everything you ever wanted, and still not being happy. Would that be better or worse than havingnoneof the things you think will make you happy, but at least still having the hope that they’re out there?
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. These thoughts are too deep for this particular moment in my life. They’re making my head hurt.
“I’mnotsurprised, actually,” I confess, looking up at him. “Ididn’t recognize you at all last night. Not until I saw the poster in your bathroom, and…”
I stop, digging my fingernails into my palms as I realize I’ve just let slip that I went wandering around his house this morning. To my relief, though, Jett just chuckles drily.
“Oh, that,” he says, showing a flash of perfect white teeth through his beard. “Yeah, my ex-girlfriend got me that. I think she thought it was funny.”
I smile uncertainty at the casual mention of his ex. Which one was it, I wonder? Ada Gilmour? Violet King? Evie Crawford? Willow Fraser? I could go on. The thing is, Jett Carter has had alotof ex-girlfriends, as anyone who’s ever flicked through a gossip magazine in the checkout line, or tapped their way through Deux Moi’s ‘Sunday Spotted’ can testify. The man’s love life is the stuff of legends. In fact, he’s almost as famous for the long list of women he’s dated as he is for his acting career. And he’sreallyfamous for his acting career, trust me.
But none of this is getting me any closer to finding out why he brought me here, so I clear my throat again and do my best to sit upright among the cushions that keep threatening to swallow me.
“So, are you going to tell me why I’m here?” I ask, sounding as dignified as I can manage with my feet dangling off my seat. “Because if it’s just so you can thank me for everything I did for you last night, you’re welcome, but I think having me followed home was a bit much, don’t you?”
“I didn’t have you followed,” Jett says, frowning. “I sent Leroy round to the bar when I woke up this morning to ask about you. The owner told him where you live. I’d complain about that, by the way, if I were you. They shouldn’t be giving out people’s addresses to customers. You never know who might turn up.”
“You don’t say,” I mutter under my breath. Before I can say any more, however, the double doors leading to the hallway open, and Silver Fox comes striding in importantly, followed by a harried looking Grace. A lock of hair has escaped her ponytail, and there’s a smudge on the lens of her glasses, which she keeps trying to rub at with her sleeve when she thinks no one’s looking. She looks like she’d be more at home sitting knitting in front of the TV with a cat on her lap, than playing PA to a Hollywood star, and it makes me like her all the more. Especially when she trips over her own feet on her way across the room, and has to grab frantically at Silver Fox’s jacket in order to remain upright, totally ruining his entrance.
I think I love her.
“Ahem.” Silver Fox glances from me to Jett, then back again, before taking a seat next to his client. Grace bobs nervously beside him for a second, then follows suit, leaving the three of them lined up opposite me, almost as if they’re about to interview me for a job I didn’t actually apply for.
I’m suddenly nervous, although I don’t know why.
“So, Jett,” begins Silver Fox, shuffling the sheaf of papers in his hand, “I assume you’ve explained our plan to Miss Steele?”
Plan?
What plan?
I lean forward slightly, trying to ignore the frantic hammering of my heart in my chest.
Why does this already sound like something I’m going to hate?
“No, Asher, I haven’t,” Jett replies, sounding painfully bored. “Because I haven’t agreed to it myself, remember? And I’m not going to.”
“Now, Jett,” the agent begins, speaking like a parent addressing a particularly naughty child. “We’ve been through this already. You know you need to clean up your image if you want to have even the slightest chance of getting theMacbethrole. Duval has already been making it known that he doesn’t want your reputation overshadowing his movie, and that wasbeforeyour little escapade with Miss Steele, here.”
Huh? Hiswhatwith me?
My eyebrows rise with indignation, but no one notices. After all the trouble they went to get me here, it appears I’m irrelevant to this conversation, so I allow myself to sink back into the cushions and try to follow it as best I can. I know Justin Duval is a director, and the fact that he’s rumored to working on a movie version ofMacbethat least explains why Jett was quoting the play to me last night — or trying to. As for what, exactly, all of this has to do with me, though, I have absolutely no idea.
“It wasn’t an ‘escapade’, Asher,” Jett says with a sigh I can feel all the way across the room. “I got drunk in her bar and she was kind enough to drive me home. That’s it. Nothing to see here.”
“Kind enough to drive you home, and stupid enough to get photographed doing it,” says Asher, favoring me with an icy glare.
I bristle furiously in my seat as I return the frosty look. I know I said I’d rate this guy a 7, but I think I’m going to have to take a point off, just for personality.
You’re down to a 6, Silver Fox.
“And now she’s all over the news, being described as your latest ‘love interest,’” Asher goes on, oblivious to his rapidly dropping rating. “As if you’d date a barmaid.”
On second thoughts, make that a 5.
‘Excuse me,” I say hotly, finding my tongue at last. “I’m sitting right here, you know? I can hear you talking about me. And I might be just a barmaid, but I’m not going to sit here and be insulted.”
With that, I struggle awkwardly to my feet, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels right now. My intention is to grab my bag and stalk proudly out of the door, with my head held high, but Jett ruins my big exit by standing up to join me, his height making me feel even smaller in comparison.
