You know, adate.
I nodded in response to Hudson’s question only because I wasn’t entirely sure what else to do or if I even wanted to be on a date with him after what he’d just done to that kid on the street.
“So, yes then?” Hudson perked up, exchanging a relieved glance with Mia—my sister wife. Number three in our throuple. Or, wait, wasIthe third wheel?
Clarification was definitely in order because whatever was happening here predated the tiff Hudson and I had just had out on the sidewalk. This seemed previously planned. Meticulously calculated.
“Oh, um, wait… are you saying you want me to give my backstage pass to Mia?”
“My god, Grace. Yes. I’ve said it like four times already. Give her your pass, and then we can all hang out backstage.”
There it was again.All. As in the three of us. I sighed inwardly; maybe outwardly too. Hudson was single-handedly ruining my first date experience. There was no good way to spin this in my milestones book… no way to strategically crop Mia out of the picture.
“It’s just… I didn’t realize Mia was going to be joining us.”
Hudson buried the knife a little deeper. “The more the merrier, right?”
What? No. Not merrier. Not at all. Didn’t Hudson know that plenty of wonderful things came in twos? Eyebrows. Pot holders. Electrodes. I wasn’t looking to be part of his tripod, especially not with Mia Lorenzo, one of the founding members of the ‘nepo baby’ hate club.
Oh, god. This was my scarlet letter, the unflattering nickname I’d acquired day one of high school, through no fault of my own. By definition, a ‘nepotism baby’ was the child of a famous actor or celebrity who became famous through no discernible skill of their own. Technically speaking, I was a ‘nepo sister,’ since my claim to fame came from Jake. But that didn’t much matter to the trendy kids in school who used both derogatory terms interchangeably in an effort to shame me for having the good fortune of being related to a superstar.
Somehow, Quinn, only sixteen months older than me, had escaped the unflattering label. He claimed it was because no one dared mess with him, but he was giving himself way too much credit. The simple truth was, Quinn escaped the scrutiny because he was cute and all the girls loved him, including those who’d come up with my title in the first place. But Quinn was fooling himself if he thought he wasn’t benefitting from nepotism too. In fact, with his resemblance to Jake as well as their shared musical talents, Quinn would be the one voted “most likely to coast his way to stardom on the back of our brother’s fame.”
Don’t tell him I said that.
Up until freshman year, I’d had very little exposure to petty classmates, since the private K-8 school I’d attended was bursting at the seams with nepotistic little freeloaders. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone at that school who wasn’t six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Quinn eventually rebelled against the exclusivity of the school, leaving it in sixth grade, but I rode it out to the end, more than happy in my fairy-tale world where I could feel good about being a privileged parasite.
But life inside my educational la-la land was never meant to last, and by the time middle school came to an end, the donors’ memories had faded and the money ran out. And so, while my friends all moved on to the ultra-private 9-12 boutique high school, I joined Quinn at the neighborhood school, packed with kids who treated me like a foreign exchange student—weirdly curious but not enough to stake their reputation on.
And, look, maybe I wouldn’t have minded being reduced to the sum of Jake’s massive accomplishments… if there had been something in it for me. My old private school classmates raked in the nepotistic rewards by pimping out their connections for modeling contracts, record deals, and roles in their daddy’s movies. Me? All I wanted was a date. Was that too much to ask?
“I thought we were…” I let the sentence trail off because it really didn’t matter what I thought. They were ruling class seniors, and I was nothing but a powerless junior with a notable last name. “I’m just a little confused. If I give Mia my pass, wouldn’t it be just the two of you hanging out backstage? Because I wouldn’t be able to get in.”
Mia and Hudson’s eyes connected, and they lingered there a moment before shifting their attention back on me. Ah man, they were a thing. Hudson and Mia. Not Hudson and Grace. I was definitely the ‘spiritual’ wife in this polygamist trio.
“You’re Jake McKallister’s sister. They’ll let you in with or without a backstage pass,” Mia said, speaking up for the first time in that smooth-as-butter, right-out-of-the-flapper-twenties voice she was known for. With my perpetually raspy, three-pack-a-day smoker voice, I was the flip side of her fake sweet-as-pie coin. When I was young, my aunt Mel used to insist I’d damaged my vocal cords because of all the yelling I had to do to be heard over all my siblings, but I’d had my distinctive, gravelly voice since I’d first begun to talk.
“That’s not true,” I argued. “I need the pass in my possession for the security check.”
Mia sighed as if I was such a chore. “Aren’t you the one always blabbering on and on about Jake and how you are best friends with his bandmates and with the backstage staff and the roadies? All you have to do is tell your buddies you lost your pass and they’ll get you a new one, no questions asked. Stop being selfish.”
Blabbering on and on? Her words were a slap to the face, not only because she’d called my bluff on obtaining another backstage pass but also because I was now worried that people thought I was leveraging my famous brother to earn favor with the popular crowd. And if that was what they all thought of me, then it should come as no real surprise that Hudson was now flipping the game in his favor. A flush burned through my cheeks. Quinn was right. I should’ve stayed home with him and shared a bowl of popcorn on the couch. I didn’t belong with these people.
“I’m not being selfish,” I protested, even though I knew I was. I could secure another pass if I really wanted to. One call to Kyle or Jake’s manager Sean or even Jake himself would do it. I just didn’t want to. Not for Mia. Not for Hudson. Certainly not for them together as a couple. Even if I no longer wanted Hudson, I absolutely did not want him to be happy. “It’s just Jake… he wouldn’t like for me to give away a pass. There are rules…”
Mia cut me off. “So don’t tell him. It’s not like he’ll even know, with all the people backstage.”
He’d certainly notice if I didn’t show up… actually, on second thought, he probably wouldn’t.
“Fine, whatever.” Mia reached over and bopped my shiny curls with her freshly manicured fingers. “Take the pass for yourself. It’s just Hudson and I thought you were cool… I was even going to invite you to my birthday party next weekend.”
No. Way! TheCall of Booty Birthday Bash?Mia’s parties were legendary. I had a chance to make the guest list? My mouth watered. So much for shunning popularity. So much for Quinn and that heaping bowl of popcorn. I was weak. Needy. Maybe if I could be seen at the party, I wouldn’t have to rely on Jake to supplement my social resume. Maybe I could stand on my own two feet for a change.
But I understood Mia’s invite came with conditions, and I had to ask myself how far I was willing to go to grab the goodies being dangled in front of me. I could almost hear Quinn’s disapproval, but again, he’d never been forced to make this decision. His name was at the top of every guest list, whether he chose to attend or not. I didn’t have that privilege, and that was why the devil was now tapping me on the shoulder.
“Do I have your word?” I looked Mia in the eye, ready to make a deal with this fashion-forward devil but only if I could get it in writing. “If I give you my backstage pass, you’ll invite me to your party?”
Mia smiled, knowing she had me in her clutches now. “Consider it your RSVP.”
