It’s only as the last word of my rant leaves my mouth that I realize I’ve made up more of my mind than I thought. And when I feel Bri stiffen next to me, I know she realizes it too.
I can’t come out. Not now; maybe not ever. Not if I want a shot in hell at making it in this business. Being Korean-American is a big enough strike against me, but Korean and gay? I might as well toss my SAG card in a wood chipper.
“I should get you to Zander,” she says tightly, nodding to the bag in my hands. “Come on, Josh. Let’s leave her to get dressed.”
It feels like an extra dig, watching her walk out rather than teasing me into letting her stay and watch. Not that we’re at the clothes-off stage. Or at any stage, really. I mean, be real, I lecture myself as I dig into the bag and pull out a denim miniskirt and black T-shirt. It was a drunken makeout. I yank off the boxers and slide on the skirt; it hangs low on my hips, but it fits. Just because I liked it doesn’t mean I need to make things worse by imagining it was more than it is.
I pull Josh’s T-shirt up over my head and reach for Bri’s. I’m going to talk to Zander. I slip it on over my head, inhaling the pleasant scent of detergent. I’m going to talk things out with him. I’m not going to do this purity pledge thing with him until things between us are stronger, and if that means things are over, then things are over. I’d rather be single.
As I turn to the mirror, I’m feeling good. I’m feeling strong. Like I can conquer anything if I just play things right.
And then I see that the T-shirt I’m wearing isn’t a plain black one after all. The letters “NIN” are clearly visible in the light. It’s the shirt she was wearing the night I awkwardly reached out and touched her tummy in the yoga studio.
Seems she really hadn’t minded.
Just like that, all my newfound self-assurance breaks. I may be an actress, but I can tell the difference between real and fake. And what I feel for Bri is definitely the former, even if I can’t do anything about that.
Good thing I’m a pretty solid actress, because I’m about to put on one hell of a show.
Chapter Nineteen
Josh
I watch from my window as K-drama drives off through the crowd of paparazzi, refusing to get within a thousand feet of that mess while she’s around. I feel sorta bad that this sucks for her, but having people banging down my door for interviews isn’t the worst thing in the world for me.
Holly wants to capitalize on the interest right away, so I’ve already got my first interview set up for this afternoon. She’s convinced that all people need is to see my face again, in connection with something that doesn’t have to do with reality TV, and then suddenly scripts will fall into my lap, or something. I’m not sure I even want that, but at least it’s something to do.
By the time I’m done getting ready, I’m already running late, but I look so damn good I highly doubt anyone will mind. Holly greets me at the studio and all but shoves me into a chair opposite Gavin Lawrence, Smarm to the Stars. A cute little blonde runs over and powders my face; Gavin’s already wearing plenty. Then he smiles, and so do I, and it’s on.
“The elusive Josh Chester!” The smile grows even bigger. It’s like the fucking Hollywood sign of teeth. “You’ve been a busy man lately. First, those new Aspen ads — which look great, by the way. Then joining Liam Holloway and Vanessa Park for an arc on Daylight Falls, and now a reality show…”
“I like to keep my fans guessing,” I say smoothly, using a line Holly fed me on the phone this morning. “I get bored easily. What better way to shake things up than playing the field?” Aaaaand wink at the camera.
“And that you certainly are! Just when rumors seem confirmed that you and Shannah Barrett are back together, this story breaks about you and Vanessa Park—”
I cut him off with a forced laugh. “Oh, God, that. Trust me, there is zero truth to those rumors! To any of them,” I add firmly, because no chance I’m letting Shannah’s famewhoredom cockblock me. “I’m single, ladies! Come at me!”
Gavin’s fake laugh in response is far more practiced than mine; I’m not sure he’s ever used a real one. “I don’t know that I’m buying this,” he says in what I think is an attempt to be playful but makes me want to punch him in the nuts. “There were a whole lot of pictures of the two of you together, and I did hear she emerged from your house this morning after some serious partying last night…”
I take a deep, exasperated breath and think about K-drama, how distraught she seemed that morning and how paranoid she is that this’ll be the end of her. It’s bad enough she has to bone Zander Wilson of all people; I can’t make it worse, even if I think it’s funny as hell.
“Vanessa Park is a good friend of mine, and she’s welcome to stay in my guest house—alone — as often as she wants, just like my other friends do. There is not, nor has there ever been, anything romantic between the two of us. Off set, that is,” I add with a smile. At least Mickey Davis will appreciate the bit of promo there, even if he hates me for sullying the good name of one of his stars.
“Then why was she staying at your place at all, and not with her boyfriend, Zander Wilson?” Gavin asks, all bullshit-casual.
“You’d have to ask her that,” I say with a shrug. “I’m just here to talk about my favorite subject: Me.”
More fake laughter. “Fair enough. So, with all these rumors about you and his ex, is there tension between you and Liam?”
Seriously? I should’ve known coming here was a bad idea. I don’t know how Holly envisions this doing anything good for me, but all it’s really doing is pissing me off. “Dude,” I say flatly, “this is getting boring. We all know nothing happened, so no, no one gives a shit — not Liam, not Zander, and hopefully none of our fans. Do you have any actual questions, or can I get back to something that matters?”
“Like what?” he asks sweetly.
I’ve never been a guy with much self-control, but whatever of it I possess goes into stopping myself from punching Gavin in the face. The worst part is, he’s right. I don’t know where I’m going from here, what I’m doing next. Without this bullshit drama, I don’t even know why people would care to keep watching me on this stupid reality show. Because I’m rich? Because I’m hot? Because I party?
When I’m not the bad boy, I’m nothing.
And thanks to the fact that I’m in danger of losing both my money and my house, and given I’ve been far too occupied with a lone girl recently, I’m pretty damn close to becoming irrelevant.
“Nothing I can talk about yet.” Being able to convincingly look and sound like a smug asshole at any moment is a God-given talent I’m extremely grateful for right now.
He perks up in his seat, obviously having bought it. “Not even a little hint for our loyal viewers?”
“Sorry, Gav.” My shit-eating grin is so wide I swear even I almost believe I’m not talking out of my ass. “But thanks for having me. It’s been fun.”
He blinks in disbelief as I start taking off my mic, and a technician runs to my side. I was supposed to give him a full fifteen minutes, but there’s no way in hell. He recovers quickly and we shake hands and whatever, and then I gotta get outta here. Preferably to get shit-faced and hook up with someone who’s not Vanessa Park.