Famous in Love (9 page)

I wish Cassandra would cool it a little, but if Rainer
is put off by her grilling, he’s not showing any signs of strain. He arches around to face me. “You,” he says.

I can see Cassandra look from Rainer to me and back. “I’m sure you say that to all your costars,” I joke, hoping he doesn’t, hoping he actually means it.

Jake removes his arm from Cassandra’s chair. “I always knew you were talented,” he says to me. I look across the table at him. Jake. Sweet, solid Jake. Something tugs at my heart. Not him exactly, but home. Who I used to be with them. All of a sudden I feel like the space across the table is an ocean—I suppose, really, it is one.

We say good-bye to Rainer in the lobby of the condos. I can see the exhaustion of the week wearing on him and I feel it, too. It’s heavy. It bears down from all sides.

Jake takes the second bedroom, and Cassandra crawls into bed with me. She’s totally keyed up. She wants to talk. I do, too, but now that dinner is over, I feel the grip of sleep. All these long hours. I’m not going to last long. I roll over onto my side to face her, my eyes at half mast.

“I have to tell you something,” she whispers at me. Her breath is warm on my face.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t tell me about Rainer,” she starts, but it doesn’t sound like an accusation, not even a little bit.

“I told you,” I say. “Nothing has happened. It probably never will.”

“But you like him.”

I look at her. I can’t lie. Not now. Not to Cassandra. And despite my exhaustion, everything I’ve kept in, everything I’ve been talking myself out of, comes bubbling up to the surface and then spills right over. “Yes,” I say. “I mean, I think so. It’s not like I have tons of experience with this stuff, and it’s just so confusing. Some moments I feel like we’re totally about to, I don’t know, become something, and other moments it seems like I’m completely in the friend zone. He’s so hard to read, but then I think maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t see what’s going on. It’s complicated. This whole movie is just…” I shake my head, stifling a yawn. “I’m sorry. I’m blabbering.”

“I know,” Cassandra says. “And I’ve missed it.”

I roll my eyes. “You wanted to tell me something.”

Cassandra smiles. “It can wait.”

I reach over and kiss her cheek. Her hair on the pillow tickles my nose. “I’m happy you guys are here,” I say. “Really happy.”

“Me too,” she says.

When I wake up, it’s light out. I haven’t woken up after dawn in weeks, and the sunlight is momentarily alarming.
I stretch, but my limbs don’t reach anything. I roll over and realize that Cassandra is out of bed.

I swing my feet onto the floor and grab my robe from a chair. I pad into the living room. I hadn’t thought about what to do with Cassandra and Jake today. Maybe we’ll drive back into Paia. Or go to the beach. Or we could go get lunch in town. The possibilities swirl outward, making fuzzy patterns in my head against the warm sunlight.

I’m still rubbing my eyes, clearing sleep, so I don’t immediately notice them. In fact I don’t spot them at all until I’m practically toppling over the sofa.

Cassandra is sitting with Jake, her legs draped casually over his lap. Her hands are pressed into his shoulders, her fingers moving like she’s searching for something.

And her lips? Well, they’re right where his are.

I stand there in the open space gaping at them, absolutely no idea what to do, because my first reaction isn’t what I’d expect it to be. It’s not anger or confusion or even quick-footed sadness. My first reaction is that they look good together. The way he’s touching her cheek and gently brushing her hair over her shoulder. The way, when he pulls back, right before he sees me, he looks right into her eyes. A look that makes my stomach and heart clench up like fists. Because he’s looking at her in a way I’ve never seen before. I thought I knew everything about them. But I’ve never seen this. Which means I haven’t really been looking.

“Paige?”

It’s Cassandra who speaks first. She retracts her legs from Jake’s lap like springs and flips around on the couch. “We didn’t know you were awake,” she says, like this explains something.

Jake looks at me. He stands up. “I made coffee,” he says. “Do you want me to pour you a cup?”

He gestures to the kitchen, but I shake my head. “What’s going on, you guys?” I ask.

Cassandra bites her lip. “We tried to tell you.” She glances at Jake, her expression concerned.

I think about Jake saying he needed to tell me something, about Cassandra’s urgent whispers last night. I feel so incredibly stupid. Here I was thinking they were losing touch without me, but really they were moving on.

I wish this isn’t what I say—I feel like a petulant child—but what comes out, complete with dripping sarcasm, is “You obviously tried pretty hard.”

Cassandra looks at me, her eyes wide. They fill up instantly. “I’m sorry,” she says. Her voice falters.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how I feel. Should I be angry? I wish I hadn’t just walked in on this. I wish it were just the three of us watching a TV marathon. Not them making out on the couch.

No one speaks for a moment, and then Jake starts. “Paige,” he says. “We wanted to tell you. It’s just…” He
walks over to me. He gets so close I can smell him. He smells so familiar—like laundry detergent, the unscented kind. It’s underlying. Always there.

I want to hug him, to wrap my arms around him. I want Cassandra to come over to us and the three of us to embrace the way we did at the airport—the way we always have. But something is different now.

“Why didn’t you?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me while I was gone?”

Cassandra looks at Jake. “We didn’t know how you’d react. Whether you’d be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” I cross my arms.

We all stand there. Jake and I no more than two feet apart, Cassandra on the other side of the sofa. All at once I wish I didn’t know. I wish they had never come. That I could keep pretending that at least this hadn’t changed.

“I’m sorry,” Jake says.

I nod, playing with the skin of my elbow. “How long have you guys been…”

Jake shrugs. “A month.”

I’ve been gone six weeks. They didn’t waste any time.

“I wasn’t sure we should have come.…” Cassandra’s voice trails off as she hugs her arms to her chest.

“No,” I say. “It’s fine. It’s—” But I don’t know how to finish the sentence. I clear my throat. When I speak again, I don’t look at them. “I have to check in with set,” I say.
It’s a lie; it’s Sunday. Maybe they know that. From the looks on their faces, I’d say they do.

“Paige—” Jake starts, but I shake my head.

“It’s okay. You guys should go down to breakfast. Order whatever you want. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Jake bites his lip as I turn to go. “You were off leading this fantastic life,” he says. “You were far away. Cassandra wanted to tell you. We’re—I don’t know.…” His voice trails off, but he keeps looking at me.

“I know,” I say, because I do. There’s something there. I don’t know why it took this long for all of us to see it.

I suddenly remember how upset Cassandra was when Jake first kissed me. How she wasn’t happy that we were together. How she said we didn’t get it, that it wasn’t the three of us now.

For the first time, I understand how she felt.

Cassandra walks around the couch, reaching out to touch my hand. “I’m sorry,” she says. “You just weren’t here.”

I shake my head and turn away. “You can call the front desk if you want to order up something,” I say instead.

“Do you want to go to the beach later?” Cassandra asks. Her voice is hopeful. It feels like it cuts right through me.

“I’ll see how work goes.”

I know I’m being unfair. I can feel it. My pride sings in my veins, pumping its venom right along with my blood. I want to get rid of it. To run to Cassandra and tell her of course I don’t care, but I can’t. There is something stopping me. I yank the door open, but before I can get outside, she moves in for a hug. I lean back, away from her, and her arm just catches my shoulder. I see the sadness in her eyes. It’s so different from last night. This isn’t the friendship I left six weeks ago, and we both know it.

“We’ll see you later,” she says.

I force a smile onto my face. “Yeah,” I say. “See you.”

“Paige,” Jake says. I look at both of them standing there, their hands hanging by their sides.

“You’re our best friend,” Cassandra says.

The three musketeers. Except we haven’t been that in a really long time. Because we haven’t been together in a really long time. It’s been the two of them before Hawaii. Maybe it’s been the two of them always.

I smile, and then I turn and head out the condo doors. I’m not sure where I should go. To the beach? But even before my feet take me there, I know where I’m headed. And when I show up at his door, he doesn’t seem surprised.

“Hey,” he says. I see the outline of a pillow on his face—the remnants of recent sleep. He’s not wearing a shirt, and his bronzed skin stands out in the sunlight.

“Can I come in?”

Rainer holds the door open for me, and then before I can stop myself, I’m throwing my arms around his neck. He pauses for a second, sways on the spot, but then his arms curl around me—warm and strong. “Come on,” he says into my ear. “Come inside.”

Rainer and I
have lunch and dinner with Cassandra and Jake. It’s awkward, but honestly I’m not sure they notice. They seem to be so happy together. Out in the open. A couple in love on vacation in beautiful Hawaii. A vacation I paid for.

“I can’t believe we have to go back to school tomorrow,” Cassandra says wistfully at dinner.

School seems so far away—like a life that belonged to someone else. The thought of sitting in classrooms, taking history, studying for the SATs.

I just have to get my GED. Technically I’m not required to take a full curriculum, like I would if I were in school, so I just get tutored on the fundamental stuff: math, English, all the things I need to know for the test.

“And you’re
staying
here,” Cassandra says, her voice accelerating. “Everyone is freaking out that we came to set.”

Jake and I exchange a glance. My face gets hot. I’m suddenly embarrassed. By Cassandra? It’s not a feeling I like.

“Isn’t this fun?” Cassandra says when we’re walking to the car. She pulls my elbow, holding me back just a bit. “It’s like we’re on a couples trip.”

But this isn’t a couples trip. This is work, and Rainer isn’t my boyfriend.

The fact that she doesn’t see that, that she doesn’t understand that this isn’t some kind of fantasy, makes my heart ache. Because it means she doesn’t really understand me. And when I drop them off at the airport later that night, the three of us at the curb, our good-byes are not what they would normally be.

“When will you be back?” Cassandra asks. We’re standing by the car, and Jake is unloading the bags from the trunk.

“Not sure,” I say. “After filming, I guess.”

She shifts her carry-on backpack on her shoulder and nods. “Thanks for having us,” she says.

“Of course.” I pause, look down at my feet. “It was fun.”

I look up, and she’s staring at me. I can see her about
to crack, the words spilling out—the admission of everything that is wrong, in this moment, right now—how much she loves me and how nothing has changed—our friendship is forever, don’t I know that? But she doesn’t. Instead she takes Jake’s hand as he comes around.

“Fly safe,” I say. I give them both a quick hug, and then I’m back behind the wheel. I don’t stop to see them go inside. I don’t want to know if they look back.

A call sheet is waiting under my door when I get back to the condos. Five o’clock tomorrow morning in hair and makeup. But this time it’s not for filming. We’re shooting our first feature for
Scene
magazine. I make myself a cup of tea and fall asleep before the sun is down.

A few hours later I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom in the condo, magazines covering the carpet. I’ve gotten a subscription to everything:
People, Us Weekly, Glamour, InTouch, Cosmopolitan.
Even the trashy tabloids. They’re all here.

I haven’t become Cassandra overnight or anything; it’s just that I need some answers and figured this is as good a place as any to start looking for them. I need to know how to give an interview in about two hours, and I don’t have the first clue what to say. It’s time for some DIY media training.

Jordan will be back this morning, and I hope Rainer’s
nonchalance continues. Something makes me think that once they’re face-to-face, it may not.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand: 4:30
AM
. I pick up the copy of
Scene
off the floor and hold it out in front of me. Some glossy, white-toothed girl I don’t recognize is smiling back at me, pulling her shirt down so you can see the top of her bra. It’s pink, the same color as the highlighter I have bookmarked in the history textbook I’m reading for Rubina.

I flip to the white-toothed girl’s article, where she’s sucking on a lollipop, wearing a cherry-print dress in the middle of a field. H
AYLEY’S
H
OME
, the headline reads. “I’m happy with who I am. I feel like I’m finally completely in my own skin.” I shut the magazine, using my toe to edge it to the far side of the room.

I used to think these plastic pinups were just that: unreal. But now I’m getting ready to do the exact same thing. I’m not sure whether I’m excited or totally embarrassed for myself. Both, probably.

I throw a sweatshirt over my tank top and denim shorts and slide into my flip-flops at the door. It’s chilly outside, and I pop on my hood as I walk to set. Even though it’s dark, I can still see the outline of the ocean, the first hints of sun picking up the rolling waves. I hope I can fit my morning swim in tomorrow. Since we’re doing
the magazine today, we’ll probably have an early call time tomorrow, too. Everything on this movie is broken down to the minute. If you lose thirty seconds to sneeze, you have to make it up somewhere else, but this has to be balanced with union overtime.

When I get to base camp, Rainer is already there, wandering around the craft service table. His hair is a little matted down, and he’s got a red dent on his cheek from sleeping. I can’t help but think he looks pretty cute in his faded blue T-shirt and board shorts.

“Hey,” I say.

He turns around, rubbing his eyes. “Hey there. Sleep well?”

I nod, although I did not sleep well. Sure, I passed out for a few hours, but I mostly dreamed about how disconnected and weird my time with Cassandra and Jake was. And then I sat on my floor, looking at perfect celebrities, trying to figure out (1) how people talk in interviews, (2) what I’m doing in this business, and (3) how to censor myself so I don’t start telling
Scene
about the time I spilled hot chocolate down my jeans in second grade and everyone called me “Wets Her Pants Paige” for the rest of the year.

Jake once told me that it’s hard to sleep when there’s a full moon, and I make a mental note to check the sky
tonight. I’d love to chalk my insecurities up to lunar patterns.

I reach to grab a coffee cup when I feel a hand on my waist. It startles me so much I spin around, and when I do, Rainer pulls me right up against him. He slides his other hand down my back and interlaces his fingers so he’s holding me, chest to chest. It’s like a quintuple espresso has been injected into my veins. My whole body wakes up. His arms are warm, and his T-shirt is soft. It’s almost enough for me not to notice the reason he’s got me all tangled up like this.

But then I see Jordan standing in the doorway. He’s framed there by the first rays of sunlight, backlit in a way that Camden and Wyatt would probably kill for on film, and he’s looking right at us.

The last thing I want is for Jordan to get the wrong idea. He hates me already, and my loyalty is to Rainer, I know that, but I don’t want to start unnecessary problems between us before we even start working together. We’re professionals. This is a job.

Rainer’s arms, thankfully, slacken around me, and he plants a kiss on my cheek before letting me go.

I crane my head around to look back at the door, but Jordan’s gone. So far we haven’t spoken too much about Jordan being cast, but I know Rainer will suck it up. He’s got to.

Wyatt is headed our way. He sends me a glance I’m
plenty familiar with by now.
Keep that personal crap in your condos.

I take a step back from Rainer, and Wyatt angles left for the coffee table just as Sandy comes sweeping toward us. You can really only describe it as sweeping because she’s got on these ivory silk pants and a matching blouse that make her look like she’s floating. It’s not even six
AM
. I wince thinking about the rat’s nest on my head. I still haven’t taken my hood down.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Rainer says. A wide smile breaks out on his face as they hug.

Sandy has spent the last few weeks in L.A.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m back for the sun.” Rainer shakes his head, and Sandy winks at me. “How’s the shoot going, PG?”

“Pretty good,” I say. “Learning a lot.”

“Understatement of the year.” She turns back to Rainer. “You look thin, kid. Are you eating over here?”

“He looks fine with his shirt off,” Wyatt says, handing Sandy a coffee cup.

He smiles at her, an incredibly rare occurrence on his face, and she laughs. “You know I don’t drink this stuff.”

She wiggles her nose, and all at once she reminds me of Cassandra. I wonder what Cassandra’s doing right now. It’s eight thirty in Portland. Their flight got in at four
AM
, I think. She’s probably at school. First period.

Last year Cassandra and I had art together first period. Early in the semester, we convinced Mrs. Delancey that we were working on installation art for our final project. We would take big canvases out to the lower field and just lie on them, looking up at the sky. It was always cloudy, and mostly we got rained on, but we didn’t mind. We’d just lie there, sometimes talking, sometimes not, until the bell rang. By the end of the semester the canvases had all kinds of grass, dirt, and water stains. I was convinced we were going to fail, but Cassandra made us turn them in. We ended up each getting an A minus. Mrs. Delancey called our work “innovative and thought-provoking.”

Wyatt angles his shoulders to the entrance. “Where’s Jordan?”

Rainer snorts, so loudly I think it might actually have been involuntary, and I see Sandy narrow her eyes at him. A look that seems to say
watch it
.

Wyatt ignores him and motions to Sandy. “Walk with me. I want to run something by you.”

Sandy nods, and Wyatt takes out a clipboard. He always has a notebook on him. Shot list, scene list, call sheets, etc. “You guys have until noon for this
Scene
stuff,” he says, waving the clipboard around. “Then we’re filming.”

“Success hasn’t made you soft, huh?” Sandy says. She
smiles, and I see small lines around her eyes, like pencil marks on a page. I wonder how long they’ve known each other, and how they met. There seems to be a story there.

“Not yet.” Wyatt looks at her, and for the first time I realize how little I know about him. I know he’s not married and he doesn’t have any children, but does he have a girlfriend? Does he live in L.A. when he’s not filming? What was his life like before this? I know, and have always known, that he has a reputation for being the way he is—tough. But was he always like that? It’s hard to imagine him any other way, but I saw something in him at that chemistry test with Jordan. I saw how much he loves this. How he’ll do anything to make it what it needs to be.

A group of people I don’t recognize have congregated in the corner of the tent. The
Scene
team. I heard something about them wanting to do a behind-the-scenes visit before our cover shoot. Jordan is standing with them. He says something, and one of the women nods intently. She lets her fingertips rest on his forearm briefly.

Wyatt and Sandy have disappeared, and Rainer is talking to Jessica, who has just arrived, orange juice in hand. “Does Urth Caffé deliver?” I hear him ask her.

She laughs, and Rainer blows her a kiss. God, he’s cute.

Then Lillianna is there. She looks me up and down
and declares loudly, “Oh, honey. If I saw you looking like this, I wouldn’t put you on a soup can.”

I’d never admit this publicly, but my favorite movie is not
Casablanca
. It’s not
A Clockwork Orange
, either. It’s actually
She’s All That.
You know, the one with Freddie Prinze Jr. where he falls in love with the school nerd? It’s not Hitchcock or anything, but I love it. My favorite scene is the one where the main guy is waiting for her at her house right before the big school dance, and she walks down the stairs and is totally transformed. All of a sudden, she’s beautiful.

It’s eight
AM
before I walk through the soundstage doors but when I do, I feel like I’m in a movie. Not acting in one, but actually
in
one. The way people’s heads turn when I step inside. And the way Rainer and Jordan look at me, like neither one has ever seen me before.

Rainer turns around first, and I see his wide smile, mid laugh. His mouth actually stays open. He’s gaping at me. Something inside me lifts. It feels good to be watched this way, wanted maybe. I can feel his eyes on me. The way his gaze sits—heavy, weighted. The way his eyes travel over my shoulders and up to my eyes like he’s looking for something. Like I have something he wants. Then he whistles, and Jordan turns around.

You know how when you’re taking a photo sometimes
the shutter stalls and the picture goes into freeze-frame? My image of Jordan just hangs in the viewfinder. I see him swallow, his Adam’s apple moving down his throat. I look at his hands by his sides. His fists opening and closing. Then his eyes look up into mine, and I recognize the same expression he shot me on the beach. His black eyes look like they’re cut from glass. It feels like if he stared hard enough, long enough, he could slice right through me.

“Hot in here,” I mumble.

No one hears me.

Usually stars bring their own hair and makeup teams to these kinds of photo shoots, but since I’m still new at this game and we’re on set, Lillianna subbed in. And the look couldn’t be further from August’s signature soft, wavy locks and rose-colored makeup. Now my eyes are smoky ash, highlighted with black eyeliner and a light-gold shadow that travels from my eyelids down my cheeks like stardust. She’s somehow got my hair to properly curl, too. It’s got ringlets, and they bounce as I walk. Like they’re dancing, set to music.

And I’m wearing a black dress. It’s lace, with spaghetti straps and a ribbon adorning the waistline. It’s so tight and short, I’m afraid to move my arms.

I have on four-inch platform heels.

My lipstick is red.

I feel… beautiful. Hot, even. The way I always
imagined the cheerleaders at Portland High felt when they were opening the football games. Like they were worth people watching. Worth Rainer Devon and Jordan Wilder watching.

“Damn,” Rainer says. I walk over to where he’s standing, the
Scene
crew separating him from Jordan. In the time it’s taken me to get ready, a massive stage has been set up inside. Big, black paper polka dots are everywhere—pasted onto the floor and walls. Red plastic balls float around vintage pinball machines, and giant Twizzlers are in big pink barrels. I feel like I’m in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. I have to admit—it’s kind of awesome.