It doesn’t help matters that our little drive with Sloan started about ten internet rumors of varying accounts. Some say I’m his long-lost brother. Some say I’m a new actor he’s taken under his wing and is grooming for stardom. Some say that Sloan, Iris, and I are some kind of hot throuple all raising Hailey together. That one makes me a little sick to my stomach, but what can I do? I’m just some guy; I have no defenses against the rumor mill.
The rumors have led to other problems, namely paparazzi. Suddenly I’m a target for their bullshit, and I spend so much time covering Hailey’s face from the cameras that she’s decided we’re playing peek-a-boo every time we get out of the car. Problem is, I can’t shield both Hailey and Iris from their incessant shooting, but Iris waves it off and says not to worry about her. This has started some new rumors, mainly that I’m parading Iris around to piss off Sloan, who the internet has learned was “dumped” after a heated argument at my place.
At least Hailey’s having a blast. Any anxiety she might have had about the set and stage evaporated when she realized she got to play make believe with Daddy the whole time. That kid is a fireball of energy, and she’s nailing every second of her time in front of the cameras.
It helps me to have Iris there for filming. I can pretend the other actress is Iris, and from what the director says, that’s helping the chemistry issue I had at first.
Three grueling days after we start filming, the director declares it “a wrap.” The whole crew cheers, and some idiot even opens a bottle of champagne. Mr. Jones walks up and gives me a hearty slap on the back, saying how my rising popularity is already garnering him an increase in sales, despite the commercial not being live yet.
I guess it’s true what they say: There’s no such thing as bad publicity.
Iris treats Hailey and me to a fancy dinner after the filming ends. Our drive isn’t quite as harrowing as the one with Sloan in the car, but it’s a little creepy to be followed by photographers everywhere I go. Do they not understand that I’m nobody? They should really focus on someone worthwhile.
I mention this at the dinner table after a couple of random girls walk by making no attempts to hide their phones as they snap my picture, and Iris just giggles.
“Micah, honey, youarethe next big thing these days. That crowd outside the studio the past few days was there for you, not Sloan. Word had already hit the tabloid sites that he quit the commercial, and that he was replaced with a ‘fresh new face.’ That’s you.”
I groan and stab a shrimp with my fork. “How long is that going to last?”
She shrugs and takes a bite before answering. “No clue. This commercial could go viral, or it could fade into nothing. It’s a crapshoot sometimes.”
That sounds suspiciously like a non-answer. “In your professional opinion, which is more likely?”
Iris’s eyes sparkle as she looks up at me from across the table. “I think you’d better get used to this. Much as you hate it, you’re something of a celebrity now. People want more of you. They want to know more about you, and that’s not going to just go away.”
With a heavy sigh, I twirl the angel hair pasta around my fork and stab another shrimp. “This sucks.”
As I chew my scampi, a busty blonde saunters up to our table. Iris tries to hide her smirk with her hand, but I still see it.
To the woman’s credit, she pretends to fawn over Hailey first. “Oh! Hey, there! Are you the little girl who’s the star of the new Cheezy Bytes commercial? I’ve seen your picture on the internet. I bet you’re excited to be on TV, huh?”
If she wasn’t bending over to talk to Hailey, almost spilling out of her low-cut top in the process, I might have almost bought it. Almost.
I roll my eyes at Iris and stand as gently as possible, placing myself between Hailey and the stranger. “Excuse me, miss, but my daughter is trying to eat her dinner. Please don’t bother her while she’s eating.”
“Your daughter—Oh! You’re the dad!” She claps her hands together like she’s just solved some clever mystery. “I knew I recognized you, too!”
“Please, ma’am. We’re trying to have a nice meal here.”
The woman pouts and strikes some kind of ridiculous pose that does absolutely nothing to endear her to me. “But I just wanted to chat …”
I cross my arms over my chest, unimpressed. “We won’t be chatting right now. We’reat dinner. This is a private family meal, so if you would be so kind as to leave us alone, that would be great.”
She huffs and flashes a rude hand gesture before stalking off, but at least she’s gone.
Collapsing back into my seat, I run my hands through my hair. “This is crazy. I can’t keep this shit up. I’m just a dad who works in IT. How did this happen?”
Iris leans forward and cups my cheek with her hand. “You’re a gorgeous dad who works in IT. You’re successful at what you do, you have a nice home—which the fans know thanks to the stalker paparazzi that were after Sloan—and your kid is adorable. The whole Dad aesthetic ishugeright now. You’re setting ovaries on fire across the country, babe.”
I cover her hand with mine. “There’s only one set of ovaries I care about setting aflame. The rest can all fizzle out for all I care.”
Iris’s dazzling smile lights a flame of its own inside me, and I scan the restaurant for our waiter to get our check. I want to be away from
here and home with my girls, for more reasons than just the fans.
“What are you looking for?” she asks.
“The waiter. I think we should pay up and get out. We can take the rest home and finish eating there.”
