“Guys always want it.” Brooke answers. “They assume every girl on the planet thinks they’re hot as hell and they’ll get laid any time they want. Which is, for the most part, true.”
A piercing scream for Reid rings across the lot. “God, how will we get any filming done?” Meredith mumbles.
“Depends what Richter does about it.” Jenna shrugs. “Fans aren’t inherently evil, and they don’t want to ruin the film. They’re just a little irrational.”
Jenna’s Oscar-nominated film starred a couple of red-hot thirty-somethings, and the experience left her with an undaunted perception of celebrity groupies. I suspect she’ll need that aloofness. Her dark hair, huge gray eyes and full lips inspired a Vogue photographer to dub her face a work of art last spring, and the cover featuring her not-quite-grown version of Brooke’s build kicked off a few countdown-to-18 calculations (yet another reason I’m satisfied with my non-bombshell body).
Reid’s exit from the building causes pandemonium like nothing I’ve ever witnessed, with the possible exception of a bad call during a game my father and I attended at Yankee Stadium years ago. He ducks his head shyly before raising one hand in the direction of the uproar, which only increases the clamor.
The fans are eventually persuaded to settle down with the promise of an up-close visit from Reid for photos and autographs when we’re done. He’s either exceptionally dedicated or just reckless; nothing will entice me to venture near that insanity. The crowd remains hushed every time Richter turns towards them and holds his hands up, right up until he yells, “Cut!” at which point they lose it again.
By the time the light is too muted to film outside, the fans have been waiting for hours. “Come with me,” Reid says, smiling and holding his hand out for mine.
“Er…” I eye the crowd, remembering my earlier intention to never get anywhere near that.
“Come on, they’ll want to meet Lizbeth Bennet.” His voice is warm, coaxing. I take a deep breath and reach for his hand against all of my natural inclination.
Well. Maybe not all of my natural inclination.
Me: Reid dragged me over to meet his rabid fans when we were done.
Em: OMG! Will there be pictures on the internet??
Me: Ha, i’m sure. Going out with everyone tonight. A club i think. Not sure i can get in?
Em: You’re a celebrity now, they’ll let you in everywhere!
Me: Idk
Em: If you make out with reid take pictures on your phone and SEND THEM TO ME
Me: EMILY you know i don’t kiss and sext
Em: Oh fine just forget the little people now that you’re a big star
Me: Em. You know you’ll never be little people to me
Em: Miss you toooo
Chapter 9
REID
“Look at this suite—holy shit, do girls even get all the way into the room before their panties hit the floor?” Tadd’s come up to my room with me to borrow my laptop.
“Jealous?”
“Of the girls? I think not. Of your room? Hell, yeah.” He plops onto the king-sized bed, hands behind his head. “Corner balcony. Elevated bed. Fresh flowers. Dude. Sweet.” I hand him the laptop and he brings up his email. “Hey man, is Quinton a go for tonight?”
I pull out my phone and tap a text. Quinton texts back a yes a minute later. “Of course he is—Quinton’s always a go. Who else? MiShaun and Emma said yes earlier.”
“I talked to some of the extras about where the best spots are, so a bunch of them might show. And I told Meredith, Jenna and Brooke… and Graham, who, by the way, is hot and I was hoping also g*y, because he appears to be close friends with Brooke, but no such luck.”
I process this for a moment. “Graham and Brooke are close—and he’s straight? How do you know they aren’t screwing each other? Maybe they’re a thing. Or a friends-with-benefits thing.”
Tadd shrugs. “Maybe. I didn’t get that vibe, but hey, you people make everything more complicated.”
“What’s complicated about friends-with-benefits?”
He shakes his head, his eyes still on the screen. “Dude, that’s something my people perfected long ago. You guys can’t get away with it because girls are more likely to want emotion, attachment, love.” The latter is punctuated with an exaggerated shudder.
“You obviously don’t know Brooke very well. She’s like a guy with boobs.”
He laughs. “Sorry, Reid, but in my world, the primary aspect being a guy is not the having or not having of boobs. I’ve seen Brooke’s Life’s a Beach promos—her swimsuits are a couple of ribbons tied together. If she has underlying physical features of which I’m unaware, I’d like to know where she’s hiding them.”
“Aaaand thanks for that mental picture,” I say. “What I mean is, she thinks like a guy. She’s detached. Calculating.”
He closes the laptop and puts it aside. “So you screwed her and she didn’t love you back? Aww, that’s so sad.”
“Fuck off, man.” Laughing, I shove him and he rolls off the bed.
“What I mean is, she sounds perfect! You can screw each other’s brains out and just walk away.” He sits back down on the bed, his eyes on mine. “Or is that pretty much what already happened…”
I forgot how good Tadd is at digging deep fast. “Something like that. I really don’t care.” And I don’t.