Gabe dropped an arm around her shoulders. “Babe, you know I’d never do anything to jeopardize Luliana,” he said, using the ship name Nighties coined for their characters, Lilliana and Luca.
Ugh, gag me.
“I’m not your babe,” Violet said, shrugging him off.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. It was comical, really. Gabe could get any girl he wanted with the exception of the one he was interested in. He’d been stuck on Violet for years. During the early days ofIN,the two did so many appearances together that they were rumored to be dating. Even though they maintained they were just friends, the speculation still created enough of a buzz to boost the show’s ratings, and for months, Violet and Gabe couldn’t go out in public without being photographed and winding up on the front page of every tabloid magazine. But over the course of their public are-they-or-aren’t-they relationship, Gabe developed feelings. Feelings he had yet to get over. I wondered if he knew that he’d never be Violet’s type. For now, only a few people in her life knew this, but no guy ever would.
“Violet, you wound me,” he said, clapping both hands over his heart in dramatic fashion. Everyone laughed at Gabe’s antics, and had I not been staring directly at him, I would have missed the split second of hurt that flickered in his eyes. An exasperated sigh hissed past Violet’s lips, but she didn’t respond.
“Um, Vi?” I interrupted before Gabe could put his foot in his mouth again. My original question had yet to be answered.
She flipped the page of her magazine. “Mm-hmm?”
“I’m taking my break now.”
Her eyes snapped to mine as I stood up from the couch. “Wait, hold on. I need you to run back to the hotel before you leave.”
“Why?”
“It’s Jewel’s birthday next week. Everyone here”—she gestured at the rest of the cast—“chipped in to buy her a present, but I left it in my suitcase.”
“Can Sadie go get it?”
Gabe shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry, but she just left for her lunch break.”
“Can’t this wait until after she gets back?” I asked, glancing over at the clock.
“No,” Violet said. “We plan on giving it to her during our panel.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I complained. There’d been two hours for me to go back to the hotel during the cast autograph session earlier in the day. “You promised I could attend this panel. If I don’t leave now, I’ll get a crap seat at the back of the room. There’s no time to run an errand for you.”
A look of guilt rose on Violet’s face—clearly Jewel’s present wasn’tthe only thing she’d forgotten about—but she quickly masked her expression. “Of course there is. The hotel isn’t that far away.”
“But, Violet—”
“Indie, I’m paying you to do this, remember?” she said, her tone gentle but firm.
“Fine,” I snapped. Every moment spent arguing with her was time wasted.
I stormed out of the green room, made my way down to the lobby, and hailed a cab outside the convention center. Which turned out to be a major mistake. Traffic was crawling at such an agonizingly slow pace that I could have jogged back faster. There was only half an hour until the panel started, and as the seconds ticked by, my anxiety inched up. If I missed an opportunity to hear Melody speak because of Violet… It went without saying: there would be hell to pay.
A bead of sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. I shifted in my seat, trying to escape the sun that was beating down on me through the window. Despite the unusually warm weather, my taxi driver had the heat cranked high, and by the time we arrived at the hotel, I was dripping.
Two minutes, I decided as I rushed through the lobby. That was my allotted time to get cleaned up. I tossed my bag on the nearest armchair when I reached the suite Violet and I were sharing and went to find Jewel’s present. Once I located the brightly wrapped box, I peeled off my top layer and barreled into the bathroom, where I took a hasty sink bath to wash away the smell of BO and panic. One liberal application of deodorant and an outfit changelater, I was out the door. By some miracle, I reached the Javits Center with enough time to deliver the gift and make it to Behind the Prosthetics.
“Badge?” a muscled security guard asked when I stepped inside.
“Huh?” Okay, not very eloquent of me, but I was momentarily distracted by the fact that he was wearing sunglasses indoors. They were black Gargoyles, like the ones fromThe Terminator.
“Your badge,” he repeated. “I need to scan it if you want to enter the convention.”
“Right.” I unslung my bag from my shoulder and unbuckled the clasp. It was one of those purses that doubled as a small backpack, because carrying a handbag made me feel like my mom. I dug around inside, my fingers scrambling across my wallet, a half-eaten pack of peanut M&M’s, and my hairbrush, but nothing else.
The guard cleared his throat as I continued to rummage. “Miss, you’re holding up the line.”
“Just give me a sec.” I unzipped the large inner pocket only to find a tube of Burt’s Bees and a few bobby pins. “It has to be here somewhere,” I muttered to myself.
After all, I’d sworn up and down to Sadie that the all-important pass would not,under any circumstance, leave my neck. But less than an hour later, I’d yanked it off.
