Chapter 33 – Willa #2
“Willa! Baby!” he says, arm out to grab me, but my entire body is stiff, and I’m frozen in place.
He looks over his shoulder at the cameras behind him, then tilts his head towards me, that wide smile on his lips, looking so unnatural and fake as they all start moving towards us.
I turn to Margo, who looks concerned, unsure of the interlopers, and in an effort to fix this, I step away from her, making my way towards Chris.
“Chris,” I say, my voice tight but my Willa Stone smile in place.
I take in deep breaths, trying to center myself, but my pulse races as I move towards him.
I scan the room, seeing the cameras and panic a bit, wondering if they caught anything that I could get picked apart for, but then calm moves through me, knowing that if they did, Leo will bury it.
He always protects me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with a tight smile as he pulls me in for a hug, thankfully no kiss, before tucking me into his side. His cologne is strong, and I force myself not to cough or make a face.
“I heard you were going to be here, and I wanted to give props to the amazing things the love of my life does.”
Giving Margo one last apologetic look, I put my hand on Chris’s back and try to usher him to the door.
“Unfortunately, this area hasn’t been cleared for filming, and I know Margo is not interested in something like that, so in order to respect her wishes, we do have to leave,” I say, my professional face glued on.
“I’m sure—” Chris starts, preparing to argue.
“Now, Chris, sweetie,” I say, hoping the venom in my veins doesn’t leak into my words. “We need to be respectful of others.” My tone is chiding, the kind you’d use on a child who wants a cookie before dinner, and for a moment, his face flashes with not just irritation, but utter hatred.
How the fuck are we supposed to last another five months like this? I have no idea, but I’m tired of playing nice with him. He continues to push past my wishes and boundaries, and I’ve allowed it so as not to rock the boat.
I am Willa fucking Stone, and he is the one who needs my help.
“Let’s go,” I say, and after a moment, he nods, letting me lead him and the paparazzi he invited onto private property outside. When we get out there, there’s a lot more out on the sidewalk, and I fight to keep my shield up high.
“So what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep lightness in my voice. Gabe is just ahead of us, and his face is hiding much less of the irritation.
“I wanted to come see you before you get ready for tonight. I can’t stand being away from you for long,” he says, and I fight my lip lifting in disgust. “I was kind of hoping I could hang with you while you danced. You know how much I love to watch you move.” My stomach churns at the innuendo and the way the press lets out a small laugh at his words.
“I wish you had told me ahead of time, but I have to get home to get ready. If I had known, I could have wrapped things up faster and gone to lunch. I’m sorry.”
“That’s what I get for trying to surprise you.
” He looks over his shoulder at a male paparazzo.
“Women, am I right?” When the paparazzo laughs, I mentally catalog his name and face to share with Leo.
I don’t mind working with the paparazzi, but if they’re going to be misogynistic assholes, I won’t be giving them anything.
“Anyway, go get beautified for tonight’s event,” he says, turning back to me.
“I know how much work that all takes; you don’t have to feel bad.
” The crowd laughs at the dig, and I try not to react before nodding.
He pulls me in close, and I place a hand at the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, and smile up at him.
There’s a soft whoosh of air from the paparazzi around us, an awed coo as if they think this is the sweetest, most romantic moment in time.
Anyone who has ever told me I’m not a good actress can suck it because I am selling this.
Despite him being possibly the biggest tool in Hollywood right now and the biggest pain in my ass ever, I know I look like a lovesick idiot.
“See you later?” I ask, a small smile tipping the corners of my lips. Chris grins down at me, a cocky look that makes me want to grimace, though I don’t.
“Definitely,” he says, too loud to be natural, so the paparazzi and cameras can catch it.
It’s clear he was never an actor.
“Good,” I say, trying not to turn green when he dips and brushes his lips to mine.
He holds it for a moment longer than necessary for the cameras.
I fight the urge to argue, to push at his chest, to get him away from me.
Instead, I let him take the lead. He pulls back finally, pressing his forehead to mine, and the flash of cameras glints along the lip piercing that sends the teenage girls feral, but he looks far too much like a thirty-year-old trying to be cool.
“Love you,” he says, and for a moment, I freeze, unsure. We’ve never done this. I’ve never done this, an open, out-loud confession of love in front of cameras, for a fake relationship. I’d mention it in songs and talk about love in a general sense, but not…not like this.
I never wanted to toe this line, feeling that if, in some universe, I actually got the real thing, I wouldn’t want my previous lies to be on the same stage as the real thing.
It’s also a boundary of mine, Jackie knows, another one that I laid out before this charade started.
“You too,” I murmur. I know it’s not what he wants me to say when his lips shift to the corners, almost infinitesimally down, and irritation flares in his eyes.
Clearly, he wanted the big moment for the cameras, but I’m not giving in to his bullshit.
Instead, I step away, and his hands tighten just a bit before releasing me.
I quickly spot Gabe, who nods at me. “Bye,” he says, then gives a pleasant smile and wave to the crowd before Gabe leads me into the car.
I wait until the doors are all shut and he’s driving away to ask.
“Did you know?” My voice is shaking.
“Absolutely not,” he says quickly, eyes meeting mine in the rear-view mirror.
“No clue they were going to do that, or, at the very least, I would have warned you. I was parked out back when he pulled in with his crew. When I figured out what was happening, I drove around so I wouldn’t leave you alone for long.
” He turns onto the highway before he asks the question that’s been brewing in my own mind, sour and nervous because part of me already knows the answer.
“Does Jackie know?”
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out,” I say, then place a call on my phone, listening to it to my ear and waiting for her to pick up.
“Willa, how are—”
“Where are you?” I ask, not in the mood for niceties. There’s a moment of hesitation, shock, probably from my quick and sharp response.
“What? Why?” Jackie asks.
“Did you know Chris was coming to All That Jazz today? Because I sure as fuck didn’t. Who told him where I was going to be? You know I don’t put that in the media.”
There’s a moment, a beat before she sighs, then answers.
“I’m at the Perfect Image offices.” Something about that settles in my chest. Uncomfortably, but like I’ve done with very uncomfortable exchanges with Jackie over the past six months, longer, if I’m willing to be truly honest with myself, I push it down.
Right now, I need to focus on the issue at hand.
“I’ll be there in ten,” I say, then hang up and tell Gabe about our change of plans.
When we arrive out front, I’m relieved to see there are no paparazzi, and Gabe quickly gets me inside the building without any issue.
My foot taps as I move up the elevator, my pulse racing as I try to keep the tentative grasp I have on my temper.
In some recess of my mind, disappointment that Leo won’t be here when I walk in lingers, knowing he’s back in Holly Ridge, but in a way, I’m happy.
If I’m angry, he would be furious and probably do or say something impulsive that he can’t take back.
I give a tight smile to the secretary, who opens her mouth, but I just move towards where I instinctively know Jackie is, finding her in Jefferson’s office, sitting on the edge of his desk.
Their familiarity, especially with the knowledge of the sketchy shit he’s done over the years and the way he treats Leo, makes me uneasy, but that, too, I ignore.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask, irritated. Jackie’s head snaps up, eyes wide as she looks at me. “What was that, Jackie? What just happened at the dance studio?”
“It was…press?” she asks, and the way she’s trying to play it off and play dumb makes that anger swell.
“We don’t do press there. How did Chris even know I was there? Who set that up? Was it you?” I ask, each question escalating in frustration and volume as I try to understand what just happened.
I won’t be able to go there again, at least not for a long time, not until the press starts to forget, and even then, if they know I’m in town, they’ll have someone camped out there.
Just another moment of relative normalcy that’s gone for me.
This goes against everything we’ve ever agreed to, goes against the clear lines I’ve drawn in the sand on what the press can have.
They can have my relationships, they can have my day-to-day moments, they can have every personal moment crafted for the brand.
That’s it.
They don’t get to see my process.
They don’t get music before it’s done.
They don’t get any kind of charity work, I do, since no matter the intention, it always gets spun to look bad.
Except she brought them right into it.
“You know, I think Leo did it.” Jefferson says with a lift of a shoulder. “He probably saw what a goldmine for Chris this was and knew it would be good for your charity work to be publicized as well.”
I snap to him, then shake my head.