Page 5 of Heartstrings
I cut off her excuse with brutal precision. “Absolutely not. I never agreed to that, and we’re going to Comic Con, not an award ceremony. Tons of people will be dressed in cosplay. Nobody will think twice about my wardrobe.”
Violet’s mouth flattened into a thin line, but after one tense moment, she flicked her gaze heavenward and exhaled slowly. “Fine, I suppose you’re right. But please, for the love of God, no black lipstick.”
“Miss James?” a flight attendant interrupted.
I jerked my head toward the woman in surprise. It always startled me to hear people call Violet that. She’d taken James as a stage name because the show’s executive producers thought Mitchell-Jamiolkowski would be too hard for people to pronounce. Five years later, and I still wasn’t used to it.
“Yes?” Violet replied, glancing toward her.
“We’ll be starting our descent momentarily. Is there anything I can get you beforehand?”
“No, thank you.” Violet turned back to me and, despite our disagreement moments ago, smiled. “I’m really excited you’re coming with me this weekend. I cleared some of my schedule so we could hang out. We have dinner reservations tonight, mani-pedis at the hotel spa tomorrow morning, and I even got you on the list for one of the industry parties I’m attending on Saturday. How cool does that sound?”
Me at some hipster nightclub packed with Hollywood stars? This wasn’t the deal we’d agreed to. Violet promised I could do whatever I wanted with my free time, and playing at being sisters didn’t fall under that category. Did she feel bad I’d be spending most of the weekend by myself? If so, my sister had reached new levels of obliviousness—with Mom gone and Dad and Violet constantly working, I wasalwaysalone.
“Violet, you don’t have to worry about entertaining me. I already have plans.”
“Oh. Are you sure? Because it’s not a prob—”
“Trust me,” I said, making a show of opening my comic to signal our conversation was over. “I’m positive.”
Chapter 2
The last time I’d visited New York, I was six—maybe seven?—and not old enough to appreciate a trip to the city, so after we landed and checked into the hotel, I used the rest of the day and all of Friday to do touristy things. While Violet was busy with a photo shoot, I took a ferry out to see the Statue of Liberty, rode the elevator up to the observation deck at the Empire State Building, and spent hours wandering the Met.
Although I tried to enjoy myself, Saturday loomed over me like an execution date. Especially after Friday morning, when Sadie, Gabriel Grant’s uptight personal assistant, stopped by the hotel room to give Violet and me our Comic Con registration badges. The first thing I’d noticed about Sadie was the permanent scowl on her face. That and the way her hair was raked into such a tight ponytail, I thought her scalp would peel away from her skull. Before handing over my badge, she made me promise not to lose it.
“This is a professional pass,” she’d said, holding it out of my reach as she explained its importance, like she was talking to a child. “Not only does it come with great responsibility, but it’s your lifeline this weekend. It gets you into restricted areas and lets eventstaff know that you have an important job to do. Do not, under any circumstance, remove it. Am I clear?”
Being trapped on a plane with Violet had been uncomfortable enough. How excruciating would it be to spend an entire day with herandpeople like Sadie?
As it turned out the next day, “excruciating” wasn’t really the right term to describe working for my sister. The more appropriate word was “draining.” Violet wasn’t the total diva I feared she’d be, but I wasn’t prepared for a day in the life of Hollywood’s hottest TV star. Hair and makeup arrived bright and early to help her get ready, followed by breakfast in the car on the drive to the Javits Center since there wasn’t time to eat. I didn’t even get a chance to look around before Violet was hustled off to her first appointment, a one-on-one sit-down with a prominent entertainment reporter. For the next five hours, Violet had back-to-back interviews with a variety of different media outlets. By the time she finished, I was dead on my feet and it was only noon. I didn’t understand how she hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion, but I supposed this was normal for her.
Thankfully, Violet and the rest of the cast had a break before their panel. Everyone was lounging around a private greenroom while I worked her business phone and tried to answer the constant stream of emails flooding her inbox. After finishing one more message and hitting Send, I slumped back against the couch cushions in defeat.
“Hey, Vi? Behind the Prosthetics starts in forty minutes. Mind if I take off? I wanna get a good seat.”
Before she could answer, Ryan Klein, one of my sister’s costars, cocked his head and asked, “Who are you again?”
We’d met on multiple occasions, but he never remembered my name. Which was beyond irritating. Ryan had joined the cast ofINtwo years ago. Granted, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and I rarely visited the set, but still. Most people found my name memorable. Indigo, like the color, because Mom loved naming her kids after different shades of the rainbow. If Violet and I had more sisters, I was positive that they’d be named Scarlett or Jade or some other color-themed moniker.
“Seriously, Ryan?” Violet glanced up from the magazine she was browsing. “I’ve introduced you to my sister at least three times.”
A lumbering grin stretched across Ryan’s face. “Oh, right. You’re Izzy.”
Wrong, but I didn’t bother to correct him. He’d forget in a few minutes anyway.
“Indie, not Izzy. Come on, man. How can you forget her name when it’s paired with such a pretty face?” Gabe, Violet’s on-screen love interest, punched Ryan on the arm before flicking a tousled black lock out of his eyes and winking at me. He probably expected a giggle or blush in response to his compliment, but I was immune to the gravitational pull of Gabriel Grant. He used his looks like a weapon, aiming an icy blue smolder at whichever girl caught his attention before obliterating her with a dazzling, movie star smile.
Can you say gross? Arrogance was not my cup of tea.
Besides, I knew Gabe wasn’t interested in me. No guy was once they met my sister.
The two of us were complete opposites. With her fair locks and petite frame, Violet reminded me of Tinker Bell, albeit a badass,butt-kicking version. She was in top shape, her muscles tight and toned from hours spent choreographingINfight scenes. In comparison, I was tall and big-boned with ample curves, and my wavy hair was a dull, dishwater blond. If not for our eyes, a light-brown, almost golden color, nobody would guess we were related.
My jaw clenched. Gabe was using me to get Violet’s attention, and it worked.
“Can you not hit on my little sister?” she asked, her nose wrinkling up.
