Chapter 2
The last time I’d visited New York, I was six—maybe seven?
—and not old enough to appreciate a trip to the city, so after we landed and checked into the hotel, I used the rest of the day and all of Friday to do touristy things.
While Violet was busy with a photo shoot, I took a ferry out to see the Statue of Liberty, rode the elevator up to the observation deck at the Empire State Building, and spent hours wandering the Met.
Although I tried to enjoy myself, Saturday loomed over me like an execution date.
Especially after Friday morning, when Sadie, Gabriel Grant’s uptight personal assistant, stopped by the hotel room to give Violet and me our Comic Con registration badges.
The first thing I’d noticed about Sadie was the permanent scowl on her face.
That and the way her hair was raked into such a tight ponytail, I thought her scalp would peel away from her skull.
Before handing over my badge, she made me promise not to lose it.
“This is a professional pass,” she’d said, holding it out of my reach as she explained its importance, like she was talking to a child.
“Not only does it come with great responsibility, but it’s your lifeline this weekend.
It gets you into restricted areas and lets event staff know that you have an important job to do.
Do not, under any circumstance, remove it. Am I clear?”
Being trapped on a plane with Violet had been uncomfortable enough. How excruciating would it be to spend an entire day with her and people like Sadie?
As it turned out the next day, “excruciating” wasn’t really the right term to describe working for my sister.
The more appropriate word was “draining.” Violet wasn’t the total diva I feared she’d be, but I wasn’t prepared for a day in the life of Hollywood’s hottest TV star.
Hair and makeup arrived bright and early to help her get ready, followed by breakfast in the car on the drive to the Javits Center since there wasn’t time to eat.
I didn’t even get a chance to look around before Violet was hustled off to her first appointment, a one-on-one sit-down with a prominent entertainment reporter.
For the next five hours, Violet had back-to-back interviews with a variety of different media outlets.
By the time she finished, I was dead on my feet and it was only noon.
I didn’t understand how she hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion, but I supposed this was normal for her.
Thankfully, Violet and the rest of the cast had a break before their panel.
Everyone was lounging around a private greenroom while I worked her business phone and tried to answer the constant stream of emails flooding her inbox.
After finishing one more message and hitting Send, I slumped back against the couch cushions in defeat.
“Hey, Vi? Behind the Prosthetics starts in forty minutes. Mind if I take off? I wanna get a good seat.”
Before she could answer, Ryan Klein, one of my sister’s costars, cocked his head and asked, “Who are you again?”
We’d met on multiple occasions, but he never remembered my name.
Which was beyond irritating. Ryan had joined the cast of IN two years ago.
Granted, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and I rarely visited the set, but still.
Most people found my name memorable. Indigo, like the color, because Mom loved naming her kids after different shades of the rainbow.
If Violet and I had more sisters, I was positive that they’d be named Scarlett or Jade or some other color-themed moniker.
“Seriously, Ryan?” Violet glanced up from the magazine she was browsing. “I’ve introduced you to my sister at least three times.”
A lumbering grin stretched across Ryan’s face. “Oh, right. You’re Izzy.”
Wrong, but I didn’t bother to correct him. He’d forget in a few minutes anyway.
“Indie, not Izzy. Come on, man. How can you forget her name when it’s paired with such a pretty face?
” Gabe, Violet’s on-screen love interest, punched Ryan on the arm before flicking a tousled black lock out of his eyes and winking at me.
He probably expected a giggle or blush in response to his compliment, but I was immune to the gravitational pull of Gabriel Grant.
He used his looks like a weapon, aiming an icy blue smolder at whichever girl caught his attention before obliterating her with a dazzling, movie star smile.
Can you say gross? Arrogance was not my cup of tea.
Besides, I knew Gabe wasn’t interested in me. No guy was once they met my sister.
The two of us were complete opposites. With her fair locks and petite frame, Violet reminded me of Tinker Bell, albeit a badass, butt-kicking version.
She was in top shape, her muscles tight and toned from hours spent choreographing IN fight scenes.
In comparison, I was tall and big-boned with ample curves, and my wavy hair was a dull, dishwater blond.
If not for our eyes, a light-brown, almost golden color, nobody would guess we were related.
My jaw clenched. Gabe was using me to get Violet’s attention, and it worked.
“Can you not hit on my little sister?” she asked, her nose wrinkling up.
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 of IN, 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’t the 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 change later, 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 from The Terminator.
“Your badge,” he repeated. “I need to scan it if you want to enter the convention.”