Given the bad start we got off to, Jakob is proving to be a surprisingly good listener. His question, however, is one I’m just not sure how to answer.
“It’s complicated,” I tell him at last. “Mum is… Mum is… well, she’sa lot. If she comes over here, she’ll want to take over; make it all about her. I don’t want to have to deal with that, but even so—”
“She’s still your mom?” Jakob smiles sympathetically. “I get that,” he says. “Families are complicated. I’ve never known any that aren’t.”
“I miss her,” I admit, staring at my chewed nails. “But at the same time, I don’t want to see her. Is that weird?”
“No weirder than anything else you ever say.”
With that return to his usual sass, Jakob gets up and starts fussing over the dresses again, while I sit there mulling over our conversation.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished I could call Mum in the last 12 months. Every time I’ve thought about it, though, I’ve remembered what she did last summer; how she tried to sabotage another distillery, and how I still haven’t forgiven her for it. That’s the real reason I’m not picking up any of her calls now; that and the fact that I know beyond doubt that if she didn’t think I’d somehow managed to bag myself a famous boyfriend, she wouldn’t be calling at all.
As if on cue, my phone chooses that moment to start ringing again, and I glance at the display, expecting to see Mum’s number. This time, though, the number is one I don’t recognize, other than from the area code, which is from Inverness, the nearest city to Heather Bay.
That’s strange. Who’d be calling me from a number in Inverness?
I hesitate for a second, then reject the call. After a few more seconds, I switch the phone to silent, just to be sure.
Whoever it is, they’re going to have to wait.
This Cinderella has a ball to prepare for.
Chapter 20
You know that romance movie trope where there’s a heroine who’s stunningly, jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but shejust doesn’t know ituntil the power of true love, or some such nonsense, shows her the truth?
Yeah, that’s bullshit.
Never happened.
In my experience, beautiful peopleknowthey’re beautiful; if not because of what they see in the mirror, then because of the way people respond to them.
People treat you differently when you’re beautiful — or even just pretty. They pay more attention when you talk, smile more, hold doors open for you… You get the picture, I’m sure.
“It’s called Pretty Privilege,” Summer told me once, when I presented her with this theory. “I read about it somewhere.”
I nodded, thoughtfully. The fact is, I grew up pretty, by Heather Bay standards. But the thing I quickly came to realize when I landed in the States was that I wasonlypretty by Heather Bay standards. In L.A., I’m just average; and right now, standing among some of the most famous faces in the world, I feel less even than that.
“Breathe. Just breathe.”
Jett and I are posing on the red carpet outside the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, where the Gala is being held, and I think I’m going to die.
No, I mean that literally. All the dresses Jakob produced for me to try on yesterday were sample sized, and I am…notsample sized, apparently. Which is why, rather than waste time sending them all back and ordering new ones, Jakob produced a flesh-colored contraption that looked a bit like a surgical stocking, and made me wriggle into it so I could fit into this dress.
And here was I thinking he was starting to warm to me, too.
“It’s just shape wear, Lexie,” he hissed, his face tomato red as he stood on a chair next to me, desperately trying to haul the girdle thing over my hips. “Everyone wears it.”
“Yeah, but can everyonebreathein it?” I gasped once it was finally on. “Because I’m not sure I can.”
“Just… try not to eat anything from now until tomorrow night,” Jakob said uncertainly. “Everyone does that, too. Trust me. Here, have some more vodka.”
I trusted him. (And I also drank the vodka, which is another thing I’ll be filing underThings I Regretted in the Morning.) Which is why I’m standing here next to Jett, having eaten nothing since last night, and feeling like I’m about to either throw up, faint, or both.
So, we’re off to an excellent start, then.
“Breathe,” says Jett again, speaking out of the corner of his mouth as the cameras flash around us. “Breathe, Alexandra. It’s good for you, I promise.”
