I can’t go back to Scotland. I just can’t. It would be one thing if Mum wasactuallyill, of course. But she isn’t. I know she isn’t. The hospital told me as much last night. She’s just trying to manipulate me yet again. It’s what she does. What she’s always done. And if I keep on letting her get away with it, it will never, ever end.
“Yeah, I really don’t want to go—”
“Going to Scotland isn’t necessarily a bad thing either, though,” steamroller Asher continues, talking over the top of me. He’s quite like mum himself, actually. I should introduce them. If I ever see her again, that is.
“Think about it, Jett,” he’s saying now, his eyes shining with sudden enthusiasm. “Think about why you’re doing this. Think aboutMacbeth.”
“The Scottish Play,” Jett says slowly. His eyes are still hidden by the peak of his cap, but some of the tension has left his voice, and he’s sitting a little straighter in his seat. “About the Scottish King. And if I went to Scotland —”
“ — you’d be able to convince Duval you’re taking this seriously,” Asher finishes for him. “Show him how much the role means to you.”
“I could do some research,” Jett says, nodding. “Treat it like a work trip.”
“I’m not sure what kind of ‘research’ you think you’re going to be able to do forMacbethin Heather Bay,” I snort. “This is going to blow your mind, but things have actually moved on a bit since the 11th century, even in the Highlands. Like, there are no witches offering prophecies on the road into the village, you know?”
Well, not unless you count Shona McLaren, obviously. And most people do, to be fair.
“No witches? Are you sure about that?”
Jett looks me in the eye for the first time since I got here this morning, and I have to force myself to hold his gaze and not look away.
“I’m not stupid, Lady M,” he says bluntly. “I know there won’t be witches prancing around the Highlands. But I want this role. And if going to Scotland can help me convince Duval that I’m the right person for it, then I’m sorry, but I’m going to go to Scotland.”
There’s a tense silence, broken only by the sound of Asher noisily slurping his coffee. I know from Grace that Justin Duval has so far failed to buy into this idea we’ve been trying to create of Jett as a loyal boyfriend and future family man. The rest of the world might be willing to believe his love for me has made him want to settle down, but Duval still won’t even consider him for the part — and I somehow doubt my recent antics will have done much to change his mind.
Okay, now I feel guilty.
I’m supposed to be helping him, but I’m just making his life more difficult instead. Leave it to Lexie to mess things up.
“I could really do with your help here, Lady M,” Jett says, leaning forward so he can stare at me even more intensely. “I’m going to need a tour guide, you know. Someone to show me where all the best — what was it? Deep fried Mars Bars? — are.”
He smiles, and I feel my resolve start to waver. I know how this ends. He smiles, I capitulate. It’s very unlike me — normally when someone asks me to do something, I’ll go out of my way to do the opposite. But that’s the kind of effect Jett Carter has on me, and I suspect he knows that. It’s the kind of effect he has oneveryone, after all. I’m not special. I am, however, currently his best chance of getting this role, and that means I’m not totally powerless.
I can say no to this plan.
I can stand my ground and not let Jett sweet-talk me into something I know will only cause more trouble.
He needs me right now more than I need him. What’s he going to do if I say no, after all? He’s just admitted he can’t fire me without losing face; and it’s not like he can force me onto an airplane against my will, is it?
The ball’s completely in my court, in other words. And now I’m going to pick it up and run with it.
“I’m sorry, Jett,” I say firmly, pushing my chair back and standing up. “But the answer’s no. I won’t be going to Scotland. I can’t. You don’t know what you’re asking of me, and if you did you wouldn’t even ask.”
“So tell me, then,” he says, exasperated. “Tell me what’s so bad about going home for you. I can help you. Iwantto help you, Alexandra. You just have to let me.”
“That’s the thing, though,” I say sadly. “You can’t help me with this. You can’t make it any easier for me to go back home and face everyone there. You can’t make them forgive me for the things I’ve done. This is my problem, and I’m the one who has to fix it.”
I turn to leave, but before I can take more than a few steps, he’s right there behind me, reaching for my arm and spinning me around to face him.
“Oh, yeah?” he says, his eyes blazing. “And how are you going to do that, Lady M? Because I might not know what your problems are, but I do know one thing, and that’s that you’re not doing anything to try to fix them.”
Behind us, Asher’s phone starts ringing (His ringtone is ‘Wannabe’ by The Spice Girls. I file that piece of information away so I can use it against him later.), and he glares at it as if it’s personally offended him, before standing up and striding off to answer it, leaving Jett and I alone.
“Well?” he says, as the door closes behind his agent. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re not even trying to solve your problems, whatever they are. You’re just hiding from them. Working in some dive bar. Living in a share house. Jumping every time your phone rings, in case it’s Mommy Dearest. Is that really how you want to live your life, Lady M? Is it?”
His hand is still on my arm, and I shake it off as if it burns.
How dare he judge me like that? And how dare he be right about me?
