“Lexi, this is my manager, Vinny.”
Vinny nods politely but doesn’t quite smile. His dark eyes run over my face, studying me closely.
“The famous Lexi. We meet at last.” At last? Jake’s manager knows about me?
Confused, I turn to look at Jake. Color creeps up his neck as he jams his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Yeah, I may have mentioned you once or twice.”
A jumble of emotion catches in my throat. “Really?” Jake’s mouth twitches.
“Of course,” he admits shyly. “I mean, I think we both know you inspired a track or two.”
I clasp my hands to my chest and gasp in mock surprise. “You wrote songs about me?”
Jake groans and elbows me gently. The tension leaves his body as he grins sheepishly at me, infamous dimple popping, and I can’t help but grin right back.
The moment is interrupted as Vinny clears his throat. “Right. Let’s get started, shall we? We only have Studio J booked for the morning.”
“Of course.” Jake turns his attention back to me. “Can I get you anything? A soda? Water?”
“Water’s fine,” I reply. Jake hands me a bottle of water from a mini fridge and gestures for me to take a seat on the sofa. He heads into the adjoining room visible through a large glass window and greets the small crowd of people hanging out inside. As they take their seats at various instruments, I realize they’re his backing band.
Vinny pulls up a chair across from me.
“So, I take it you two have worked things out?”
“Um… I guess? We agreed to try and be friends.”
Vinny nods approvingly. “A wise decision.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Vinny leans back in his chair, pursing his lips as though he’s trying to figure out exactly how to put what he’s thinking into words.
“You must know how difficult a relationship with Jake would be. His schedule is packed, dictated by appearances and concerts and tour schedules. There are promotional events to attend, contractual obligations to fulfill. His career takes precedence over everything. Especially his personal relationships.”
My mood darkens as I take in his words. Now I understand what Jake meant when he said he felt too overwhelmed to even look at his phone. Working in kitchens is hardly a cakewalk, but if I had this many demands placed on me all day, I’d probably hide in bed with the blankets pulled over my head. A feeling of protectiveness washes over me. Jake needs someone in his corner, someone who isn’t just interested in what he can do for them.
Vinny takes a long swig of water from his bottle before continuing. “Trust me, becoming romantically involved with Jake would be a mistake. The lifestyle can be tough for someone who isn’t in the industry. I’ve seen more than my fair share of relationships fall apart when a celebrity client tries to date a… well, for lack of a better term, anormal.”
“Yeah, but I knew Jake before he was famous. When he was still, uh… a ‘normal.’”
Vinny’s gaze is piercing, his mouth set in a hard line. “You need to understand something,” he says, his voice low. “Jake isn’t the same person he was when you met. Things are different now. He’s on a path to become a superstar, and there are a lot of peoplewhose jobs depend on his success. The last thing he needs is to get off track.”
I stare into the glass booth at Jake, who is wearing a pair of headphones and glancing suspiciously back and forth between us with his arms crossed. When he catches my eye, he pulls out both hands, pressing his fingers and thumb together to mimic a talking mouth. Rolling his eyes, he mouths the wordsBlah blah blah.
I subtly run my index finger across my throat to signal for him to cut it out. In response, he grabs his neck, contorts his face as though his throat’s been slit, and collapses to the floor with a loud thud.
Vinny turns, leaping to his feet when he no longer sees Jake standing in the booth. Unable to suppress my laughter, I bury my face in my shirt sleeve and do my best to disguise the noises coming out of me as coughs. Jake slaps one hand onto the ledge, and then the other, dragging himself up. He grins at me and winks. Swiveling his head to follow Jake’s gaze, Vinny studies me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Christ, it’s worse than I thought.” He pulls out his cell phone and punches a few numbers.
“Lydia, it’s me,” he barks into the receiver. “Schedule a meeting with the entire PR team.” He throws me a look over his shoulder before continuing. “We have a situation.”
AROUND 1 P.M., WEbreak for lunch. Jake suggests we walk to Bubby’s, an American eatery a few blocks away, where he insists we can eat without causing too much of a scene. Apparently, the restaurant is used to accommodating local diners, many of whom happen to be tabloid regulars.
The interior of Bubby’s is brightly lit, with a full back wall of windows and plenty of green accents. I’m pretty sure I see SJP seated at the bar, but before I can get a good look, our waitressescorts us to a booth in the back. We spend a few minutes poring over the menu before I decide on a smoked salmon bagel plate. Jake opts for the fried chicken biscuit.
The waitress returns with our drinks a few minutes later, placing an iced tea in front of Jake and handing me a glass of water. I watch with mounting horror as he pours one packet of Splenda after another into his glass. He takes a sip after the fourth one, frowns slightly, and adds one more.
