Chapter 26
Zinnia
Jordan’s hand was pressed against her lower back. The event promoter was holding the rope to pull back the blue curtain. A club full of strangers who all knew her name, her face, and had heard her cry were waiting.
“Wait, where’s the restroom?” she asked.
The event promoter gawked at her like an exasperated parent driving during a road trip. “Go back the way we came, make an immediate left, three doors down. Hurry or you’ll miss your mark.”
“Then she’ll fucking miss it,” Jordan snapped, and then softened his tone for Zinnia. “Hey, take your time, okay? Did you see the bar? Right corner? I’ll hit our mark. You meet me there when you’re ready.”
They bowed until their foreheads touched.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Zinnia sprinted backstage as fast as her dress would allow until she found it and locked herself inside. She adjusted her bodice. Inspected her makeup. Faced the truth in the mirror.
The trailer was out now. Her parents were going to be so disappointed that she didn’t marry for love. Even worse, she had a business marriage that borderline disrespected the values they’d instilled in her.
Jordan was her work husband. Being his wife was her job, and she excelled in her role by lying.
They’d watch the show and listen to them lie about their feelings over and over again.
She’d have to explain how her husband expertly curated their real story for the cameras, twisting it into something unrecognizable.
Love at first sight was acceptable. Business meetings were not.
They’d see the footage of Bea—how devastated she was over the love of her life suddenly marrying someone else. Hear the way everyone believed that they’d reunite someday, with pictures of them together plastered on the screen as proof.
Because he’d fallen in love before, and it could happen again. Just not with her.
A hollow feeling began carving its way through her chest. Thinking of Jordan falling in love shook her to the core. He’d walk through an Open Door and forget all about her waiting for him to come back home.
Zinnia exhaled, shaking the nerves out of her hands and trying to clear her mind. She couldn’t think about that now. She needed to get to work.
“You are the most supportive and amazing wife at this party,” she said to her reflection. No tears. No whimpers. No cake. “You’re the best thing at this party, period.”
Jordan
He made it to the bar, mostly unscathed, and slid into a partially obscured corner with the bartender’s blessing. They also graciously agreed to keep an eye out for Zinnia when she came to find him and show her the way.
Everything was all right. She processed best with time and a little space. He didn’t need to go with her and hover. She would come to him. Everything wasn’t ruined.
Now if only his brain would stop hysterically disagreeing.
Her horrified expression when Sadie announced the trailer flashed in his mind.
When Bea appeared on-screen, he didn’t know why, but his first instinct was to check on Zinnia.
In all the time they’d spent together, he’d never seen her have a non-reaction until that moment.
She was a blank wall—nothing there for him to read or guess—and it scared the shit out of him.
He was staring at his drink, spinning the short glass in an endless self-loathing circle on the increasingly damp napkin, when someone finally leaned against the bar on his left.
But it was only Mabel, loftily holding a champagne flute. Behind her, his camera pod suddenly began filming the party instead of him.
“You,” he accused. “You knew that Bea had been filming this whole time.”
“Obviously. She has her own devastated and drowning herself in work before nostalgia makes her do something stupid storyline going on.” She sipped her drink and then mused, “I’ve never been good with titles.”
God damn it. Jordan’s jaw was beginning to hurt from clenching his teeth. “Why didn’t either of you tell me? You could’ve at least warned me the trailer was releasing tonight!”
“We would’ve if you bothered to ask. Not to mention that you just joined the bigger picture brigade,” she said. “Look, Sadie never reveals her entire plan to anyone. That includes me, by the way. You just have to trust her.”
“Of course I do.” With his life, but maybe not with his wife.
“Good. Because she’s retiring from the show but not the industry and I warned you: lots of moving parts to this shit. We’re keeping eyes on us by any means necessary, while making sure they only look where we want them to.”
Speculation is relevancy and any relevancy is cultural currency. Sadie was banking on the Zaffre Hours final season to take all of their careers to the next level—Bea must’ve wanted in on the spectacle.
Mabel had admitted that his mom got ahead of herself with matchmaking. Bea never wanted to actually reunite with him. He’d been right from day one.
“Is Bea here?” he asked.
“She was slated to be, but something suddenly came up. A schedule snafu, if you will,” she said, overenunciating every s.
“Sadie.”
Mabel tapped her nose. “She only pushes, never breaks. And just between us, it’s the network you need to be worried about. They put Bea on the guest list, but Sadie caught it in the eleventh hour. You’re taking too long to pop the question.”
“It’s only been twenty-seven days. We had an agreement.”
“Yeah, we did.” Mabel gestured between them.
“But when you don’t move fast enough, the network retaliates by fucking up your personal life.
They’ll always hit you where it hurts most. Sadie keeps them on their toes to keep them out of her business.
If you’re going to follow in her footsteps, do it right.
Here comes our girl.” She pointed past the bar.
“And the wolves are already descending.”
Zinnia
Even as hyper-focused as she was on getting to Jordan, there was no ignoring the amount of double takes being tossed her way. No one was saying anything because ogling, whispering, laughing got their message across just fine.
She was in no way prepared for viewers to choose sides in a love triangle she never agreed to be in. The real high school sweetheart versus a kindergarten chic imitation. This could not possibly be her life right now.
A woman reached out to grab her arm—Zinnia twirled in an elegant circle to avoid being touched. “Well, hello there,” she greeted calmly, swishing to a stop.
“Hello, yourself.” She was a pretty white woman with dark hair wearing a black dress. “I’ve been friends with Amber for years. I’ve heard so much about you the past few months—it’s lovely to finally put a face to the name. She left out how…striking you are.”
Months of practicing had prepared Zinnia for this moment. She hid the startled deer-in-the-headlights look that always told on her with a deft smile for the camera pod. “Did she? Now, that’s not like her.”
The older white man next to her raised his distinguished gray eyebrows. “She did mention that you were an artist. What kind?” he asked.
“Digital primarily, but I’m proficient in several mediums. Currently, I’m designing a limited-edition winter cup collection for Tantivy Shops.
Jordan is the founder and owner. It’s done so well organically that he’s been able to comfortably expand to two, soon to be three, locations in under two years. ”
“Is Alfie limiting himself to the West Coast?”
“For now. Contributing to the community and becoming a part of the local economy is so important to him. He still hand selects each location ensuring he can be on-site for at least six months post-opening.”
“That’s an interesting approach. Where is he?”
“Just over there. I should get back to him. Very lovely to meet you both.” Zinnia dazzled them with a parting smile before fleeing toward the bar.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
She’d barely made it ten steps! But being approachable was nonnegotiable in this line of work. “Yes?”
The man daring enough to break from the staring crowd was tall, dark, and incredibly handsome.
“Have you ever considered modeling?” he asked seriously.
She hadn’t, not even for a single minute, but she laughed because of course she was flattered. “I’m nowhere near tall enough.”
“Common misconception. The requirements are more relaxed with commercial work.” He held out a business card. “My name is River. I’m a talent scout for Avalanche Management. We’ve been looking for someone like you.”
“I bet you say that to all the women in borderline indecent dresses.”
“Only if they have the face and charisma to pull it off. I’ve been in this business a long time. I know star potential when I see it. Do you sing?”
“Not even in the shower.”
“Dance? Anything?”
“Afraid not.”
“Not a problem. My agency is full service. Once you sign with us, we’ll provide you with the best instructors in the industry. We could have a very lucrative future together,” he said. “I’m surprised Sadie managed to keep someone like you under wraps. How did she find you?”
“She didn’t. Jordan is my husband. Sadie is my sister-in-law. That’s how that works,” she said with a dainty laugh.
“Ah, so he’s the scout. Interesting.” His rich baritone suggestively curled around the word as his gaze darted beside her. “Speak of the devil.”
Jordan manifested at her side, sliding his arm around her waist the way she liked. “And who are you?”
“River. I’m with Avalanche Management. I was telling Zinnia about what we do and hoping to tempt her in for a meeting.”
“She already has representation.”
Zinnia grimaced. Would’ve been nice if someone had mentioned that.
River, however, was unphased. “That’s a shame. We both know your family’s agency has a reputation for not treating their Black talent well. She deserves better.” He looked directly at Zinnia. “Keep me in mind if you change yours.”
Jordan exhaled in a huff through his nose as River walked away. “It hasn’t even been five minutes.”
“I’m sorry I’m so irresistible,” she joked.