“Nah,” Parrish says, smiling coquettishly. That stupid fuck! I think as the Cortez girls steer us into a smaller side room that’s decked out in horrendous shades of pink animal print. “I’m not in the show, but who cares? Pretty sure old boomers are the only ones who watch daytime TV.” My eye twitches as the Cortez girls giggle and flirt, but I take a seat where I’m told as a young girl with a shaved head and a septum piercing steps forward to take over my hair and makeup duties.
“We’re going to Saint Croix this week; maybe you could join us?” Maria offers, ignoring the glare her older sister levels on her. It’s a glare that very clearly says he’s mine; I saw him first. I’m not sure why but that alarm bell in my chest starts to blare like a tornado warning. And I’m furious about it. My cheeks feel hot and my pulse is racing, but I do my best to pretend that I don’t care.
“Most tempting offer I’ve gotten all year,” Parrish says with a slick smile, reaching up to run his tattooed fingers through his brown and blond waves. He’s one of those foppish rich boys who acts like they roll out of bed with this sweet, mussy hair when in reality, he spends nearly an hour in his bathroom every morning. What a dick, I think as he meets my eyes in the mirror and smirks. “Especially considering that my new sister here stole my girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Maria breathes, clamping a hand over her mouth as her eyes sparkle with the promise of juicy goss. She drops her hand to her side and leans in conspiratorially. “Is that true?”
“Of course it isn’t true,” I reply as the makeup artist attempts to put a pair of falsies on me. “She left him for me specifically.”
Parrish just keeps smiling, lifting his brows up and letting his gaze slide to Francisca’s in a conspiratorial sort of way. The smirk she gives him in reply makes me feel stabby as fuck.
“Question,” Francisca continues, taking a seat in the chair beside mine and swiveling to face me. “Why are you doing a talk show for old people when you could be insta-famous online? Personal branding is important, and you’ve got clout in spades.” She holds up a hand, like she can already see my name in lights.
The shaved-head girl pulls the pins out of my hair as I stare at myself in the mirror and wish I were anywhere but here. Hell, I’d even take an entire afternoon alone with Parrish if it meant an escape from all of this. I don’t want to be famous because I was kidnapped as a baby. That’s not what defines me; it isn’t who I am.
Though I’m starting to wonder, the longer I’m here, who exactly is it that I am in the first place.
“I watched a documentary on being an influencer once; you can rent a private jet for four-hundred bucks an hour and pretend you live a really awesome life.” The two girls stare at me before exchanging a look.
“Hey Parrish.” Francisca swivels her chair away from me like I’m a horrible disappointment. “Come make a quick video with us?” He shrugs and stands up, following the Cortez girls out of the room and leaving me to the horrible ‘Millennial makeup artist’ who does a fabulous job regardless of her birth year.
As I step out of the hair and makeup room, I run back into the Cortez girls again but they’re substantially less friendly this time around. Apparently I’ve pissed them off. Maybe that’s my real superpower? Pissing other people off …
Parrish is with them, but his face is impossible to read.
“What did you do? Turn them down for a threesome?” I quip as he lets his gaze drift over to me.
“You only wish I’d turned them down,” he adds with another infuriating smile. “I’m going to Saint Croix next week.” He takes off down the hallway as I grit my teeth and wish a plague of locusts on his stupidly pretty head. Obviously, he’s just said that to get under my skin: Tess would never let him take a trip like that without her.
At least I know I’m not the only one wearing gilded chains.
I ignore him and follow the instructions of a woman with braids like Danyella—I think she said they were called Ghana braids—and an authoritative looking badge with a lanyard. She guides me to the edge of the stage next to Tess.
“You look very pretty today,” Tess tells me, but I can’t summon the energy to look over at her. My palms are sweating and my heart is racing, but it’s a million times different than the way those same symptoms feel when I’m around Parrish. This isn’t an oh my god, I’m crushing hard moment, more like an I’d rather be anywhere but here moment.
