6. Avery
Avery
I ’m distracted all through the premiere, rubbing my finger over the soft edge of the Uno card. Saying no to Wesley’s idea means I have to find another way to convince him to sign the papers that doesn’t involve being stuck with him for months on end.
He captures my attention so completely that I don’t notice when the movie ends and everyone around me rises to their feet and applauds, prompting me to do the same. I remain a phantom of myself, quickly changing for the after party, and getting in the limo with Jamie and Harper.
“Really, was it good? I feel like everyone is lying and secretly hates it,” Jamie asks, fidgeting with his bow tie before giving up. “Fuck, and I’m going to walk into this after party with this all messed up.”
Harper scoots across the seat to help Jamie. She’s borrowed a red dress of mine with sheer lace paneling that runs up the side. “Just take it off. The undone look is hot.” She flushes and stammers as she clarifies. “Like, in general, as a trend.”
I haven’t had a chance to tell her about wedding planning, but when things die down a bit, I’m going to ask her to be one of my bridesmaids and help me through all of this like she’s helped me through everything else.
Jamie’s shoulders quiver in a light laugh. “You’re good, Harp. I know what you mean.” He turns back to me, eyes shining with eagerness. “So?”
“You earned that rating. Those critics get off on tearing people down. It isn’t a mistake,” I reassure him. It’s the best I can do since even though I sat there for two hours and was in the damn movie, I don’t remember a thing.
“And you?” Lines crinkle the corners of his swirling amber eyes, like my thoughts matter more than everyone else’s.
My stomach clenches, knowing I’ll have to lie if I don’t want to disappoint him. “I saw you in every part of it. It was perfect.”
“You guys are so cute!” Harper chirps, her smile so wide, it verges on pained. “Absolute power couple.”
The hotel hosting the after party towers over us with its whirling historic hand carved stonework. I suck in a breath as I note how, even through the tinted windows of the town car, the camera flashes of the paparazzi and journalists lining the entrance are bright.
Just smile, Avery!
Just smile and wave and play nice and don’t slouch and don’t trip and don’t accidentally get caught in a bad angle that will live forever on the internet even after your career is dead.
Jamie rests a tender hand on my knee and squeezes. “It’s these cameras and then it’s over.”
If only that were true. But his steady reassurance rolls over me. I attempt to ride the cool wave of calm as we exit the car and head to the entrance, but it dissipates the moment questions are hurled our way.
“God. Who would have thought we would have gotten such a great romance from you two? You must be sick of people asking, but how did this start?”
My head has been somewhere else all evening, so I speak without thinking. “Now that I think of it, I am tired of—”
Jamie cuts me off, eyes flicking to me in a furtive glance.
“We were on set and I couldn’t stop staring.
When she caught me, I lied and said I was checking out her tattoos.
It’s not every day the woman whose poster you had pinned up on the wall of your college dorm waltzes onto your movie set like she owns the place.
” He lets loose a chuckle. His hand lands firmly on my lower back.
“If you’d excuse us, we’re excited to celebrate. ”
A few more steps and we’re finally through the doors.
“Thanks for the save, I guess I’m just tired.
” My control is slipping. Even though Jamie jumped in, I know at least one camera caught the start of my response.
The few honest words I’ve spoken today—and they felt good.
At least they do now, but I doubt they will later when they’re used to tear me apart.
I can only imagine the headline. Is it a fairytale? Prince Charming and the Evil Queen
“It’s what I’m here for.”
We may not be a love match, but he balances me out and shows up in the way I need. Love can come eventually, but what we have is a firm foundation of understanding. But I need to stop relying on him to do the heavy lifting while I mentally check out and make mistakes.
“Let’s get you to that party.”
Once we step inside, Jamie is torn away from me. I lose Harper when she spots a social media star she loves, so I make polite small talk about the upcoming award season and the engagement with other guests.
“Yes, it would be great to have an Oscar nomination, but really it was just nice to be included on the project,” I say to the woman in a black cocktail dress.
I can’t figure out if she introduced herself or if she just assumes I know who she is.
She looks vaguely familiar, but that could be because half the people here use the same pictures as references for their surgically constructed noses.
If that’s true, it’s a good nose and she got her money’s worth.
“It’s good to branch out when things aren’t working. Do you think you’ll be sticking with movies?” she asks.
“Have you seen her net worth? If that’s what it looks like when things aren’t working, the rest of us are screwed.” Kendal walks up to us, standing closer to me than my companion with the good nose. “Looks like you need a refill.”
“Oh yeah, I think I do.”
She doesn’t. Her glass is half full, but Kendal has one of those voices that make you want to do whatever she says, good thing she’s in a career where she can put it to use.
“I see everyone is chatting up your man, leaving you to fight off the sucker fish,” Kendal says when we’re alone.
“Shouldn’t you be out there with him, brushing shoulders with the execs? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Because half of them want to know what’s next, and it’s taking everything in me to not say, ‘the next fucking movie, dumbass, so let me get drunk and celebrate the one I just finished working on.’” Her face pinches.
“And if it were up to the rest of them, I’d never be on a set again.
” She sips her drink, cocking a brow. “Don’t look so surprised.
It’s not a misogyny thing. Okay, it’s partly misogyny and mostly the fact I’m on a TV personality’s shit list.”
“I respect it.” It’s not a lie. In some ways, Kendal reminds me of my younger self, saying what she wants, not caring who hears. “If that’s the case, how did you connect with Jamie?”
“Jamie knows my brother, who probably only connected us because he was tired of me complaining about eating ramen every meal. Big movies aren’t my thing, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s better than the freelance writing I was doing and getting pennies for.”
“What is your thing?” I ask almost selfishly.
“Interview work. Real people. Unpredictable shit. I was originally with a daytime talk show, not the end goal but I learned a lot about live TV. Hopefully, if I stick it out with Jamie’s franchise, I’ll get another shot.” Her passion seems to shimmer under the surface of her skin.
“So, you’re the person to call up if I ever wanted to feed my ego with a documentary?”
“I’d kill to do something like that, to hear what really happened. Sorry, I was a big Fool’s Gambit fan growing up, and with their reunion, I’ve been reading articles, people trying to piece together their careers, and I’ve always felt like something’s missing.”
“And what do you think that is?”
“You. I’d want the truth about what happened between you and…well, shit.” Her focus snares just over my shoulder, mouth popping open in shock. “Him.”
I turn to see what she’s fixed on, but part of me already knows as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Wes stands out, and not just because he’s woefully underdressed in his signature jeans, cowboy boots, and T-shirt combo.
He’s mastered the unkempt look—an image that promises sex and cigarettes for breakfast. One that lures you into thinking he’ll run his full lips over your neck, lingering as he feels your pulse, reveling in the simple miracle that you’re alive.
Or they’re thinking something like that.
And yet, he ignores the room full of eyes on him, as his meet mine. Our eyes don’t just meet, though. They never do. They have an affair.
He cuts through the crowd as if we’re the only people at the party. I stand my ground—it’s either that or run. That’s what everyone here wants—the drama Wes and I always promise when we’re in the same room.
A foot away, he grabs a flute of champagne from a server and tosses it back like a shot. Some of the liquid slips from his lips, dripping from the sharp cut of his jaw to dampen his shirt collar. Once drained, he grabs two more.
Standing in front of me, he hands me a flute. “Brought you something. Who’s your friend?”
I take it. I’ll need a drink or ten to get through this. “This is Kendal, the assistant director.” I trade a glance with her, the universal thanks for staying, but let me handle this piece of shit man sentiment flowing between us.
“Who is leaving,” she says, then points to a table in the corner. “And will be right over there.”
Thank you, I mouth before giving my attention to Wesley. “Last time I checked, you weren’t on the guest list.”
His brows shoot up. “Oh, that’s why I had to sneak into the building with an old lady staying on the tenth floor?
I just thought you forgot to add my name, but I do appreciate the effort you must have made to exclude me from this…
well, I would call it a party, but that would be an insult to parties.
Networking event? That sounds about right. ”
“Exploiting old ladies? That’s a new low. Even for you.”
“You drove me to it,” he says. “I had to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Well, enjoy the party. Go talk to someone who doesn’t get nauseous when they stand next to you.”