Jamie frowned. “What do you mean?” She hadn’t told her anything.
Ruth raised her phone.
Jamie’s stomach dropped.
No. Fucking. Way.
There it was, plastered all over Old Timey’s feed: a picture of her sipping a martini, with Clayton lurking in the background like they were on a date.
“He was supposed to delete it,” she muttered, snatching Ruth’s phone for a closer look.
“Who?”
“Clayton.” Her jaw clenched. “He made the bartender delete this last night.”
Ruth lifted her brow. “Guess not from the trash.”
Jamie tightened her grip around the phone.Of course.Because why should anything go her way? Now there was one more damn picture of her and Old Hickory floating around, feeding the never-ending rumor that they were a thing.
“How long did you stay?” Ruth asked, chewing her gum as she flipped through the in-flight magazine. The soft hum of the airplane engines filled the space around them, a steady white noise beneath the occasional ding of the seatbelt sign.
Jamie shifted in her seat, holding Poppy in her lap. “I left as soon as this picture was taken.”
Ruth’s gaze flickered from the phone to Jamie. “You got in kind of late,” she said, her tone light but laced with curiosity.
Jamie exhaled sharply, pressing her head against the stiff seat back. “Yeah, Clayton and I played pool.” She reached for her water bottle, twisting the cap with too much force.
Ruth smirked, popping a bubble before nudging Jamie’s elbow. “I think he’s growing on you.”
Jamie snorted, taking a slow sip before side-eyeing her friend. “Yeah,” she deadpanned. “Like a tumor.”
A car service picked them up at JFK and headed straight for 30 Rockefeller Plaza—better known as 30 Rock. Before winningStar FactorJamie hadn’t even known it was a real place. Now, as the car pulled up to the entrance, a cluster of paparazzi—paps, to their prey—waited on the sidewalk, cameras poised. She couldn’t tell if they were there for her or Clayton—not that it mattered. She wasn’t stopping. She’d learned that lesson early on.
At first she’d tried to play nice with the press, believing if she gave them what they wanted they’d return the favor. Instead they twisted her words, snapped unflattering photos, and sold outright lies to the highest bidder. It was all a game to them.
“These fucking idiots,” Jamie said, looking out the window of their SUV. She turned her gaze forward, ignoring the flashing bulbs as the driver opened her door.
Time to step back into the spotlight.
Ruth glanced up from her phone. “I’m going to check us in.” They were staying at the St. Regis Hotel courtesy ofRise & Shine America.“Unless you want me to leave the dogs in the car and come inside?”
“No, that’s okay,” Jamie said. “I can manage myself.”
“Then why do you need Shorty?” Clayton asked, but she ignored him.
Jamie stepped out of the SUV, shielding her face from the cameras, and ducked aside so they couldn’t capture a good picture.
“Any comment on Derrick?” one of the paps asked, then another. They were always searching for gossip when they were broken up, only to use it later as punishment when they got back together.
“Are you having an affair with Clayton?” someone in the crowd asked. She nearly laughed out loud but stopped herself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
As if.
“Howdy folks!” Clayton stepped out of the SUV. “Thank y’all for coming!”
“Clayton,” Jamie hissed, gesturing for him to walk faster. “You can’t be friends with these people. They’ll use your words against you.”
He tipped his hat back. “I’m friends with just about everyone,” he said. “Why are they nosing around about Derrick?”
