Not that she was wrong. I had an inkling Braden and Maggie would make a good match. But I needed to lead the cast and audience along. Not have Demi fast-track the plot like she was an executive producer.
My crew noticed too, and they were less than thrilled. In fact, they were downright antsy about the situation, pacing back and forth, wringing hands, watching Demi like a hawk. We’d already had team meetings about Demi flipping the script. Never had we had a cast member like her. If they only knew the half of it and who they were really dealing with.
I’d delicately tried to lead them down the path oflet’s see how it plays out, fearing if we tried to control her, she and Cassie—and for all I knew, Zeus—would obliterate the entire season.
Cassie already looked two seconds away from throwing gasoline on the bonfire and letting it torch the entire set.
Although I had to wonder what Zeus was up to. What was his plan if none of the male cast members were meant for Demi? Surely he hadn’t sent her on this quest to fail. Hadn’t Eros told me how important she was and how important it was for her to fall in love and use her gifts? Well, she was certainly using them now. To annoying effect. It was like she’d become the cruise director onThe Love Boat. And all I could do was hope she didn’t sink the ship.
Thankfully, the caller of the band shouted, “All right, fellas, grab a partner. It’s time to square dance.”
Demi shot me a look that said,Really?
Yes, I knew it was hokey, but audiences loved this kind of thing.
Jax, Blaine, and Carter all lined up to ask Demi.
Lucky fools,the sonnet-composing side of me thought.
Demi had other ideas. “You all are so sweet. But . . .”
I braced myself, knowing I wasn’t going to like what she did next.
“Jax, you need to dance with Brinley. You’ll like her much more than me.” She patted him on the back like he was a good little boy. Was she giving him a love pulse? She wouldn’t sink that low, would she?
Jax shrugged and walked off, downcast. So maybe she hadn’t given him a love pulse.
Still, it wasn’t her place to make matches. That was my job.
“Blaine, I think you and Jessica have a lot in common. You should ask her.”
He opened his mouth to disagree, but she wagged her finger, smiling a heart-stopping smile. “No arguing,” she sang. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
The cameras were all zoomed in on the spectacle she was making. This was a nightmare. Where was Demi, queen of the dead, when I needed her? Not this sparkly goddess whose behavior I wanted to berate but whose curves I wanted to feel under my fingertips.
By the time she sent Carter over to dance with Paloma, I threw up my hands.
So it surprised me when she walked over to Todd, the guy I’d deemed the boring accountant, who was nursing a root beer near the refreshment table. He was average as they come. Average build, height, net worth. He wasn’t usually the kind of cast member drawn to our show, but Jazzy had thought we needed to mix it up a bit this season.
Every eye seemed to follow Demi, wondering the same thing as me. With a model and a former NBA player on the table, why choose Todd?
I moved in closer, unable to help myself, though I did my best to keep my face professional.
Todd himself seemed to be thinking the same thing as everyone else.Why me?Demi’s attention took him so off guard, he dribbled some root beer down his shirt.
Demi smiled as he tried to pat his shirt dry with his hand.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.
“No, you’re not. I do that kind of thing all the time.” She said it softly, trying to put him at ease.
I had a feeling she didn’t do things like that all the time. Demi was very much in control—of her emotions, her body, her presence. She didn’t stumble. She didn’t spill.
Todd blushed and set his drink on the table. “I’m Todd,” he stuttered.
“I’m Demi.”
“I know. Everyone knows who you are.”
