“Oh. That sucks,” she said sympathetically. “No one looks good in that scenario.”
“There are stories everywhere about how I lied about being a vegetarian, how I’m bulimic and people have been worried about my eating disorder for years.”
“Have they?” she asked.
“First of all, no one in Hollywood is worried about anyone besides themselves. Secondly, I’ve mostly never been allowed to eat, so when I can, I’m definitely not voluntarily puking it up.”
She was quiet as I finished my sandwich, eating slowly so my stomach wouldn’t revolt again.
“Now you’re hiding until this all blows over, is that it?”
“Yeah. You’re welcome to log on and verify my story.”
“I don’t have internet here,” she said.
My mouth dropped open. “No TV. No internet. Please tell me you have a cell phone.”
She looked sheepish. “I have a basic smart phone for emergencies. And for talking to my mom.”
“And you thought I was the one who was Amish,” I teased.
She smiled then, and I lost my train of thought. She really was beautiful. Sassy, but completely free of artifice. I wanted to keep her forever, even though I knew a woman like this would get eaten alive in my world.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened upWikipedia. The first thing I saw was a picture of me at the Academy Awards. I was wearing a long blue dress, one shoulder bare, my hair pulled back in a tight bun, looking like the perfect ice queen. It was the same picture that had been on news sites everywhere the week it was taken.
“Here.”
She took my phone from me, her eyes moving quickly as she started scrolling through the information on the page. Then she held the phone up, looking between the screen and me.
“You look better without all that makeup,” she said softly.
Another thing I’d never heard in Hollywood.
My phone beeped in her hand, making both of us jump.
“Your mother wants to know where you are,” she said, handing it back.
I pressed ignore and put my phone away. “It’s best she doesn’t. She likes to leak information about me to the media. It keeps her relevant.”
If she noticed the bitterness in my voice, she didn’t comment. Instead Hailey gave me a long, considering look.
“If you’re going to stay here tonight, you’re going to need to pull your weight.”
For some reason I thought it was a test.
I straightened in my chair. “Okay. Tell me what you need.”
Hailey
Iwas going insane. That was the only explanation for why I was letting a total stranger stay in my apartment. I’d glanced through herWikipediaenough to know it was really Victoria Cross sitting at my kitchen table. She looked different in person, but enough like the photos that I didn’t doubt it was her.
I vaguely remembered girls at school talking aboutHey Vickyand how they wanted to emulate the show’s stars, but I’d never had any interest in all that. A quick scan of her roles confirmed I’d never seen any of her thirty-some movies or TV shows.
Tori and I were from different worlds. She could afford to stay at the fanciest hotel in Seattle. Hell, she could afford tobuythe fanciest hotel in Seattle, kick everyone out, and stay there alone, but I couldn’t seem to deny her request to stay here.
“You can start by putting your dishes in the dishwasher,” I said, nodding at the machine.
She did it without complaint, then rejoined me at the table.
