Steph kept talking, her suitcase wheels still rolling. “The Hope Channel has contractually locked you down for good behavior until the movie’s released. So if I hear even awhiffof scandal,” she warned, “if I hear even thepuffof a gnat’s whisper that you are fucking somebody on set, I will make hair ribbons out of your arteries. Do you understand me?Ribbons.I will wear them to your funeral. I will drape your headstone with them like bunting.”
“Bunting. Right.” I glanced over at Gretchen again.
“Okay, and be nice to New Winnie, and don’t close the door yet, I’m seriously right here. No, it’s a carry-on. Oh, I willmakeroom in a bin. I know what I’m doing.”
Steph clearly had made it to her gate, so I told her goodbye and hung up.
And right on time, my phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down and saw an update from ClosedDoors. Bianca von Honey had posted a new video.
My cock gave an automatic stir at the sight of her name on my screen. When I was exhausted from working in the theater shop, when my life seemed to be nothing but overseeing precalc homework and coordinating doctor appointments and sorting through bills and bills and bills, the only thing thatgot me through the day was knowing that I would eventually get to shut myself up in my room and have a little alone time with Ms. von Honey.
It wasn’t that I didn’t hook up in real life—I did—but being former INK star Nolan Shaw mostly made dating really fucking weird. I found that most people either wanted a story to tell their friends after we had sex,orthey were nervous I was going to somehow make them the story instead.
What could I say? It was hard in these streets for a disgraced former boy band member.
But at least I had my little porn star crush. And maybe one day I’d find someone in real life as exquisitely dirty as Bianca. It hardly mattered at the moment anyway, given my new marching orders—pure as the driven snow and all.
Gretchen was finishing up with the PA, and I came up beside her. “I’m so sorry about that,” I said, shoving my phone back into my pocket. “You were saying earlier...?”
“Oh yes,” she said, “that’s right. Will you make sure you say hi to Bee when she gets in today? I know this is a short shoot, so I want to make sure you’re both comfortable jumping right into your scenes together.”
“Absolutely—” I was cut off as “2 Wicked 2 Love” came blaring out of my pocket again. Gretchen’s eyebrow lifted, and I felt like a total dickhead. “I’m so sorry,” I said quickly. “It’s probably my manager again. Let me just send this to voicemail, one sec...”
But when I pulled the phone out of my pocket, it wasn’t my manager.
It was Mom.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, wishing I could crawl into a snowbank and hide forever. “It’s my mom. Can I . . . ?”
Gretchen nodded. “Of course.”
But her eyebrow didn’t go back down, which didn’t feel like a good sign.
I stepped away from Gretchen and went a few steps down the salted path through the square before I picked up. “Hey, Mom,” I said. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s okay,” Mom said. “I just—”
“Maddie’s okay? You’re okay? Do you need me to move the appointment with Dr.Sam to earlier?”
“Nolan,” Mom said. “Everything is fine. I was just calling to wish you good luck on your shoot. Doesn’t it start today?”
I blew out a long breath, and then looked back to my director, who was currently standing in the cold looking at her phone and probably thinking about how inconsiderate I was. Yay.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Today is mostly about getting ready.”
“That’s nice,” Mom replied. Her voice was nearly toneless. In the background I could hear the sounds of a television and Barb cooing at Snapple the dog.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to see if I can move the appointment?” I asked quietly.
“Everything is fine,” she said again, and this time I could hear more of herself in her voice. “I want you to focus on your work there, not worrying about your old mom, who will be totally okay without you here, by the way.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’renotold, and I’m not worried.” That was a lie, I was alotworried. “I just want to help is all.”
“You are helping,” Mom responded, “and it’s going to be fine, I promise. Call me tomorrow to tell me how the day went?”
Gretchen was looking up at me from her phone, eyebrow still lifted in a perfect, Academy Award–winning arch.
“Yes,” I told Mom, needing to get back to Gretchen and also reluctant to hang up. “And I’ll call you tonight too. And Kallum is stopping by again, and you can call anytime, okay? I love you.”
