Chapter 2
TWO
When I returned from our date, Heather and Ashley wanted to hear all about it. The cameras were rolling. I didn’t want to look those poor, sweet airheads in the eyes and lie—but I did.
I told them we had a lovely, tasty dinner of seafood.
Too bad I don’t eat seafood, which is why I’m currently inhaling the catered Thai food in the kitchen.
Bright-eyed, small-faced Ashley wanted to know if Jax and I kissed.
The first words that came to mind were hell no, but instead I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, darling—he’s all yours. ”
She lit up like a harvest moon. I was glad to give her that.
Ashley, with her tiny high-pitched voice and Disney-character looks, has been Jax’s favorite from the start. Of course she’s his type. She’s every guy’s type. Bubbly. Men love that word.
“She’s bubbly,” they say, like it’s a personality trait and not just the sound of her laugh echoing in their skulls.
Then I took a plate piled high with carbs and carried it to my room—which, thankfully, I now share with nobody but myself—and ate. With a full belly made from guilt-free gorging (I’ll worry about my diet when I’m back on the set of a real TV show or movie), I went straight to bed.
Bam, bam, bam...
Someone’s knocking on my door like they’re the cops. The vibration ripples through me, and I sit up, rubbing my eyes.
“Zara?” a familiar voice calls.
“What is she doing here?” I whisper, blinking hard. Maybe I’m dreaming.
“I’m coming in,” she says—and then in walks Anna Park, my agent.
One look at Anna and I feel a wave of resentment. She reeks of the outside world—the place I want to be right now.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, then glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s 11:33 p.m.
Anna is wearing jeans and a Bruins sweatshirt.
I’ve never seen her dressed so casually—and she’s been my agent for three years.
She looks exhausted. Deep purple digs in under both eyes, and she’s not even trying to hide them.
Her neat bob is pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her pale, bloodless face.
I clutch at my rapidly beating heart, convinced I’ve screwed up my comeback after that dinner disaster.
“What’s going on?” I ask, short of breath. Six weeks down the drain because of one bad dinner. Stupid me.
She sighs, long and forceful. “I’ve got some good news,” she says, and I perk up. “And a qualifier of that good news.”
I wrinkle my nose. “A qualifier?”
“Heather’s been sent home. It was filmed. That was the deal with the dinner. Jax had to choose between you and her.”
“Dinner was a disaster. He should’ve sent me home, not Heather.” I scrunch up my face and shake my head. “He knows he’s getting under my skin.”
Anna grunts like I’ve said the wrong thing, then folds her arms.
“Didn’t you hear me say I have good news? Heather is gone, and you’re a finalist for a reason, Zara. You haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Figured out what?”
This time, her arms drop like the weight of her entire day just sank into the floor.
“You have five million new followers on social media since this gig,” she says. “And you’ve been cast as the sister in a new Rowan TV series called Next In Line. It’s kind of like Succession, but grittier. It’s a major role.”
My jaw drops. I want to scream with joy—but the way she delivers the news, so dryly, makes me pause.
I square my shoulders. “Okay… what else?”
There’s a look in Anna’s eyes I don’t trust. I’ve seen it before. She’s thinking. Or rather—trying to outthink me.
“Zara…” she says, walking over and sitting beside me on the rock-hard bed. “I barely inked this deal for you. We’re back, but you did not make this easy. And I don’t want you ruining it. So go to wardrobe, get your makeup on, and play your part. It’s time for the final pin.”
Silence falls. I’m still confused.
“Is that the qualifier?” I ask. “I mean… after tonight, this is over, right?”
Her lips curl into a big smile.
“Indeed it is. So…” — she pauses — “I want you to have all the right reactions. Got it? Your future depends on it.”