Chapter 4 Jason
Chapter 4
Did you say somebody owes me a Ferrari?
Jason
THIS IS GONNA be fun.
I whirl Emmy around in circles in my arms, and the audience goes wild. Honestly, she’s even prettier in person than in her author photo. I turn up the charm to the max. “Where’s the horse, Terica? I thought I ordered up a horse. And a sunset.”
Terica looks apologetic. “Sorry, Jason, there’s no horse, although, considering the time, there might actually be a sunset outside.”
I set Emmy down, and she makes a show of her knees buckling so I have to steady her. It’s perfect. “Whoa there.”
She holds on to my arm with one hand and brushes the hair out of her face theatrically with the other. Apparently, she’s got some acting chops. Awesome! I flex that arm to make sure she has something steady to hold on to. She’s a little short, so I have to lean to the side, but that’s okay.
“I’m all right. Not swooning at all,” she says.
I knew this was going to be fun.
Terica’s voice is all faux concern. “Jason, can you get her over to the chair, please? I think the poor woman needs to sit down.”
“I’m not sure I can walk.” Emmy’s grin is careless and wanton. It’s a total turn-on.
“I’ll handle this.” I give a confident nod and then sweep her into my arms again. The audience explodes into more whistles and applause. I walk her over to the chair slowly, with a cowboy swagger, noting Sean’s aggressive eye roll on the way. I toss him my best suck it face.
“Before you put me down…” She pauses.
I stop, and we all go silent, hanging on her words. “Yes?”
“Would you do the memes for me?”
“Wh-what?”
“Yes! Just like that.”
I’m still confused. Terica clarifies. “She wants you to act out your internet memes, Jason. She wants to see you do them in person.”
Emmy’s eyes shine as she nods. “Please? Do the one where you say, Okay .”
Oh. I get it. I dip my head and raise my eyes. “Okay,” I say.
She grins. “Do the one where you wink.”
I wink.
“Do the smolder.”
I purse my lips and darken my gaze. The camera is right there, capturing both our faces.
“Do the one where you say, Whoever cares most gets to win .”
So she likes that one, huh? I dig deep, find the feeling. “Whoever cares most gets to win.”
A sleepy, satisfied smile pours across her face. I find myself matching it. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Gently, I place her in the chair.
“So, Emmy,” Terica says as I relax into my seat. She has to say it twice and then add a yoo-hoo to pull Emmy’s attention away from me. The whole thing is really working for the audience.
“Sorry, Terica. I’m finding myself slightly distracted.”
“I think we can all forgive you for that,” Terica says. The laughter surges. “But, you know, there are about three billion folks out there who are dying to know what it feels like to be hugged by Jason Connor.”
“Oh, it was okay.” She fans herself with her hand. The audience loves it. She steals a glance at me, as if maybe her comment has hurt my feelings. Meanwhile, I’m having such a great time that I forget to pretend to look offended. The bright stage lights illuminate her eyes so that they sparkle like beads of amber in her heart-shaped face. I spot a little mole on her lower left eyelid that I didn’t notice in her author pic. Her bare arms are smooth and golden, and her hands are completely naked—no rings, no nail polish, nothing.
“Just kidding,” Emmy continues. “So, a hug from Jason Connor… how would I describe it?” She taps a finger on her lips in an über-cute way. “Have you ever been on one of those rides, like Mission: Space at Disney, where they put you in a capsule and spin you really fast, and all you see is a little screen so you don’t know what’s happening to you? But you feel all funny and disoriented and like there’s no air in the capsule?”
“Yes?” Terica leans forward.
“It’s like that. And then you time travel to another dimension.” She crosses her legs and leans back, obviously pleased with herself.
“Wow!” Terica looks at me, impressed.
I shrug and do the nonchalant thing. I feel like a million bucks. Correction: I feel like at least five million bucks. I didn’t know I was that good at the hugs.
The guys have been pretty polite up until now, but this is too much for Sean.
“Okay, okay. Now wait a minute!” His ringed forefinger goes up, and he looks like an annoyed prince in a suit. “Somebody’s got to say it, and it might as well be me. This woman is obviously confused.” He turns his attention to Emmy, his voice going up an octave. “Miss… Ellison , is it? Have you seen a medical professional lately? Why’d you pick this guy?”
She shrugs and smiles. “Sorry, guys. You’re all awesome. Truly, you are. I guess I just like the funny, charming ones.”
Sean puts on his conservatively offended face. “I’m funny!”
“I’m funny, too,” Mount Ramirez adds.
“I’m charming,” Andrew says blandly.
The gloat in my voice is extra thick. “Did you hear the part where she said hugging me is like time traveling to another dimension?”
Sean looks like he just tasted some bad sushi. “That’s not fair. She doesn’t have anything to compare it to.”
I give him my oh well face.
“I demand a competition!”
“Let it go, Sean.” I grimace to the audience. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Emmy leans forward in her seat. “I’m up for the hugging competition!”
“We’re out of time for everyone but Emmy and Jason,” Terica cuts in. The cameras keep rolling as the crew removes the mics from the rest of the gang and carries away their chairs. “Thanks for coming, guys.”
“Next time you’re in LA.” Sean points his finger at Emmy as he exits the stage. “We’ll do it. Remind me. See ya, Snack!”
Ramirez and Andrew pat my shoulder genially before waving to a cheering audience as they make their way offstage. I have to stand up so the crew can rearrange the seating. When everything finally settles down and it’s just the three of us, I turn to Terica. “Did you say somebody owes me a Ferrari?”
“I’ll look into it.” Terica puts on a serious face. “So, let’s talk about the book. Jason, now that you know you’re the inspiration, are you going to read it?”
All the playacting is officially done, and we’re in business mode. “Actually, I’ve already started reading it,” I reply. I turn to the audience. “I got sucked in right away. I can’t wait to read the rest.”
“You don’t have to finish it,” Emmy says, shifting in her seat. She looks flattered and terrified at the same time. “I mean, I know you’re really busy…”
I grin. “Oh, I’m going to finish it. You can count on that.”
“Did you suspect you were the celebrity crush?” Terica asks. “No spoilers!”
“Yeah, the memes gave it away. Some of those memes—it was pretty obvious they were mine.”
“And what did you think?” Terica asks.
Emmy’s cheeks are flushed, and she can’t look at me. It’s adorable, but I don’t want to embarrass her too badly. “I thought it was cool.” She tosses me a grateful look. “It was really cool,” I emphasize, and I mean it. It was.
Terica gets a cue from her staff. “Okay, folks, that’s it for today. It’s dance party time! Let’s have some music, and in honor of Emmy’s book, let’s make it Duran Duran!”
“Girls on Film” bursts out from the speakers, and all three of us get up and start dancing as dictated by The Terica Show format. Emmy’s dancing is not technically impressive, but it’s carefree and sexy. I throw out some of my best Lost Star Dance Troupe moves. When she glances at me over her shoulder, I grab her hand and give her a spin. I mouth, “Dip?” at her, and when she nods, I drop her low, hyperaware of her compact, muscular body in my arms. At the bottom, she lets her head hang back, and I follow the long, sensuous line of her throat to her smooth chest and the curve of her breasts under her coral-colored top. I pull her up again and hold her against me, forcing her onto her toes. When the momentum dies, she’s in my arms, our faces inches away from one another. Her lips are parted, and her eyes are half-lidded and sultry. She doesn’t look like she’s playacting anymore.
Oh crap, I almost forgot that I’m her celebrity crush! This isn’t just fun and games for her. There are real feelings here. Real-ish anyway. I shouldn’t play with them.
And my feelings? Technically, I’m not allowed to have any of those right now, so we don’t even need to go there.
The taping stops. The music cuts out. It’s all over.
I drop back, putting space between us. Something that feels a bit like guilt is transpiring in my chest. Emmy falls back onto her heels, looking shaken. Terica gabs with her crew and isn’t going to rescue us. The audience is ushered out row by row.
I clear my throat. “You were great.” I say it like I’m made of wood.
“Thanks for being a good sport.” Her face is doing funny things, like it’s fighting with her brain. Then we both look around, even though there’s nothing to look at.
“Okay, guys, that was really fantastic. Thank you so, so much. Angela’s going to take you back now.” Terica’s got an obvious rush in her voice. It’s showbiz, after all.
Angela leaves us in the hallway by the hair and makeup room, where we stand like abandoned souls. This is the part where I usually turn left and hightail it out of the studio. For some reason, I don’t move.
“Can I get a selfie?” Emmy asks.
“Of course!”
She pulls out her phone, and I put my arm around her carefully, lean in, and smile. She snaps and shows me the picture. We look good.
“A silly one?” she asks.
“You bet.” I do my best Hadron face. She twists her mouth to the side. She shows me that one, too. Then we just stand there again.
“Can I tag you?” she asks.
“You better.” I point a finger gun at her. God, that’s so lame. She does it back. Now we’re both standing in a hallway, pointing finger guns at each other. It must be noon at the Awkward Corral.
My phone buzzes. It’s a reminder to pick up Mattie from Margarita and a sort of auditory rubber band on my wrist, snapping me back to real life. “I have to go pick up my son,” I tell her. “This was really fun.”
“Yeah, it was.” Her smile is a bit naughty, though I don’t think it’s meant to be. It feels dangerous and thrilling. Forbidden. Tempting. One of those moments I’m supposed to steal a bike and pedal away from at a very fast pace.
“Okay. Bye!” I give a wave.
“Wait!” she says, and I steel myself. Here it comes. The Hey, do you want to go get a drink? The gentle sidle into my personal space. The suggestive touch. The invitation for something, and, later, something more. I don’t want her to do it because I’m going to have to say no, and I don’t want to have to do that.
“Yes?” I ask in a careful voice.
“I’m kind of stuck here, time traveling in this other dimension. Do you think I could get a lift back?”
Huh?
Her arms open hesitantly, and then I get it. The hug thing.
“Absolutely,” I say, stepping forward. “Bring it on in.” I try not to notice how her curves fit against me, the smell of coconut in her hair, the pressure of her hands on my back. Without the lights and cameras and energy, all the small, subtle things make themselves known.
“Thanks,” she says when our bodies separate. I can see her struggling to restrain a big grin.
“Anytime.” Everything in me wants to offer her an actual lift, too. Or suggest that drink myself. Then that something , and maybe that something more .
I think the bike I was supposed to steal and pedal away on just turned into a motorcycle painted with flames of self-sabotage. But we don’t have to get on it. It would be better to just keep it all profesh. Better for me. Better for her. Better for Miles’s balls.
“Okay, goodbye!” I turn and walk away, a heavy, stifling feeling pressing against my back. The hallway seems to go on forever. Don’t turn around, Jason.
The exit door opens into a sky the color of a missed sunset.