2. Chapter Two
And the caption read, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”
* * *
Christina’s perfume is expensive and clogging my nose. I find it interesting that her parents haven’t once looked back at her. They’re so self-consumed, I’m not sure they remembered she was in the car.
Somehow, she’s wedged her elbow into my ribs as I stand with her closely tucked up against me.
Her skin is cold beneath my fingertips, and I’m not surprised. The woman is actually some kind of ice queen.
I can hear her stomach growl, which happens a lot. She probably hasn’t eaten in three days either.
Fans in the crowd call out our names, and we both give them smoldering smiles as I keep her pulled in tightly to my side.
I would have thought that her people would have told her about the story that surfaced about us being in a relationship—a nonexistent romantic relationship. How the hell they came up with that story, I have no idea. Anyone who has ever been on set with us knows that we are tolerant of one another at the most.
I mean, did everyone miss the story about her throwing the coffee mug at my head?
It’s a credit to our talents that the streets are lined with fans chanting our names. We’ve now starred in four movies together where we were love interests, and two where we were siblings.
That’s the glory of ensemble casts and viewers’ suspended reality.
The fact that we crank out movies with silly romantic tropes on a streaming service still blows my mind. But looking at the people who have come to see us, and the ratings that the movies get, it’s the cushiest job the whole world. I’m guaranteed steady work. The shooting schedules are short, so I have a lot of time off to pursue other hobbies, like my writing.
Romance channel viewers are much like those who get into their comic book movies and shows. The fandom is huge. I can honestly say, I never thought I’d be doing the fan con circuits, but I do—we do.
People line up and wait to have their pictures taken with me and Christina—and I don’t mean separately. They are there to see us together. I don’t know what would ever happen if either of us made time to see other people. Would it demystify the on-screen fantasy?
But the fans make this cushy job what it is. It’s their need for more content that keeps us employed and the money rolling in.
If the fans want to see Christina and me in public with my arm around her, well then, I’ll offer them that. I need them to believe the hype and tune in the next time one of our movies plays. Hell, the residuals alone should keep me comfortable for a long time.
Of course, the moment we are clear of the cameras, we will step away from one another. Oh, we might heat it up on a TV screen, but there are no sparks here—not really.
Okay, I’m only human. The woman hates me, but let’s be honest, she’s gorgeous and feminine and I notice.
An entertainment channel has a reporter stationed to pull us in and talk to us. I can see Christina’s parents have gone on and are entering the building. Had I not moved in, as I’d been instructed to do, would they have just left her to tend to this mob on her own? I mean, I’ve seen her do it, but really?
“Graham Crowley and Christina Malloy,” the woman says with a hint of surprise swirled into her excitement. As if she didn’t know we’d be stopping by. “You two are picture perfect,” she continues, scanning a look over both of us.
Christina’s body has gone rigid, and she leans into me. That’s a bit surprising, except that we’ve done enough of these stupid things that I know she hates to be grilled with a microphone in her face.
“Thank you,” Christina says, and her voice rises in pitch.
The reporter asks her who she’s wearing and Christina rattles off some name of a designer I’ve never heard of.
The microphone is now aimed in my direction. I might lose it if this gal asks who I’m wearing. I’m in a freaking tuxedo.
“You know, Graham Crowley,” she sighs as she says my whole name, “hearts are breaking.”
“Are they?” I ask. Where Christina’s voice rose in pitch, mine is flat.
My agent and publicist, as well as the execs at the studio want us to play up this rumor that we’re seeing one another. Honestly, I thought they would have mentioned it to Christina, and she would have fought them off. Maybe that’s why they didn’t tell her, and just threw her to the wolves. It’s a little funny, I suppose, but not cool.
“So, the two of you?” the reporter asks. “How long has this been a thing?”
Christina’s smile is plastered on her face, and she turns to look at me. There is a plea in her eyes to get her out of this.
“You know. You spend all this time with someone—” I begin.
“It’s bound to happen, right?” the reporter interrupts and finishes my thought. “We’ve had polls on our website of celebs that people want to see coupling up. You two have always had the lead.”
What a waste of resources.
I eye my agent, who waves me toward her. My hand slips from Christina’s back, but she grabs for my hand as if I’m her lifeline now.
“You two look cute together,” Sandra, my agent, says as we make our way to her.
“Oh, do we now?” My voice is lacking in any humor as I lean in toward her, fully aware that all eyes are still on us. “No one gave her the heads up,” I whisper and nod my head in Christina’s direction.
“No?” Sandra asks and Christina shakes her head. “That’s unfortunate,” she says as if it doesn’t matter. “Anyway, you look perfect together. You’re presenting the fourth award. We’ll come and get you before.”
We know the drill, but the teams of people we keep around us know it’s their job to get us where we need to be, so we’ll hear this same thing all night long.
Christina’s fingers twine with mine. She doesn’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. She doesn’t want to be touching me, and frankly, I feel the same. But we seem to be one another’s support for the evening. Does that make us a couple?
We follow Sandra into the theater and are escorted to seats next to Christina’s parents. Everything is mechanical. There is some socializing, but that’s mostly saved for after-parties. This part of the evening is all for getting people in place for the cameras. For the next three hours, they’re going to be focused in on how Christina and I sit next to one another. Will we touch? Whisper? Hold hands?
After the rehearsal yesterday, I’m surprised there are any rumors. We didn’t speak to one another as we were walked through protocol. The few minutes we sat, we were both on our phones. I guess proximity is enough to fuel rumors.
In fact, I’m not sure we said anything to one another the entire day.
There’s never a need to. The princess at my side never has anything nice to say. Well, when your stomach growls as much as hers does, maybe she’s nasty because she’s always hungry.
To be honest, I’d rather give the stupid award and then get the hell out. But these silly movies on the Love Is in the Air, all romance, all the time channel, has my name out there. Sandra has sent me three scripts for feature films, and I’ve had talks about starring in an action film. An action film!
Christina’s father is the king of the action movies, and I know that Sandra has been passing my name to him. I could be the next Bruce Willis or Vin Diesel. The thought makes me smile wider.
“What are you thinking?” Christina whispers through gritted teeth and a plastered smile.
“Exit strategy,” I say, and she turns a horrified glance my way.
“You’re not sneaking out, are you? You can’t leave me?—“
“Not an exit strategy for tonight. Don’t panic.”
“Okay, thank you,” she says, as if my sticking around will give her comfort. Maybe she finds solace in us both being miserable.
I don’t ever know what this woman thinks. But I do know for a fact she’ll blow a gasket the next time we have a kissing scene and I eat Doritos before it. It only fuels my fire to do it more often.
Actually, she won’t have to worry about the Doritos. I have plans to down a bag of Funyuns before our next romantic scene. I had my roommate buy a case of them from Costco just for eating before the kissing scenes.
With Christina’s hand still in mine, I grin at my plan. Sometimes my joy comes from just irritating the woman.