Grace Unplugged: A Novel (16 page)

With his eyes still fixed on her, Quentin absent-mindedly dropped the mango into the bag and then carried it over to her. “Anyway, this is the last of it,” he said with what seemed a little less confidence than before. “And I—I hung the rest in your closet. Hope that’s okay.”

She peered down into the tote bag and, seeing that it actually did contain clothing, she felt reassured. This Quentin dude was legit. And he was cute. She removed the misplaced mango and held it up. “So, am I supposed to wear this for the video?”

“Huh?” He looked blankly at the fruit. “What’s that?”

“A mango.” She suppressed the urge to laugh.

“What?” He made a sheepish smile.

“Is that supposed to be an accent to go with this ruffled cami?” she teased. “Or maybe I should wear it on a hat with some bananas and grapes?”

Quentin chuckled and Grace couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, that’s probably not going to work. I don’t think they want you looking like Carmen Miranda.”

“Carmen who?”

“You don’t watch old flicks?” He sounded surprised. “Carmen Miranda was the rage in the fifties. She’s the one who wore the fruity hats.”

“Oh, yeah.” She studied him curiously now, trying to wrap her head around an attractive guy who delivered clothes to girls’ apartments and knew about movie stars from more than sixty years ago. Very interesting.

“Sorry to scare you like that,” he said as he went for the door. “But it is good to be wary of strangers in this town.”

She nodded. “Point taken.”

“So . . . see you around.” He gave her one more smile. “And don’t forget to lock your door.”

As she went to lock the door, it irked her to know that she wasn’t the only one to have a key to her apartment. She’d have to ask Mossy about that. As she snapped the dead bolt into place, she remembered with amusement how Quentin had dropped the mango in with her clothes.

“It’s all set,” Mossy told her on Thursday morning.

“What’s all set?” She laid her guitar on the couch, giving her full attention to the phone.

“Your date with Jay.”

“What date?”
She felt a mixture of excitement and angst. Was this really happening?

“Remember I told you that Jay was
charmed
by you? That he wanted to go out with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s all set.”

“Seriously?” She sank into a chair, trying to absorb Mossy’s words. She was going out on a date? For real? She’d never been on a date before, and now she was going out with Jay Grayson! It seemed impossible and wonderful—and totally crazy. How would she know how to act? What to say? What to do?

“I thought you’d be excited.”

“Of course, I’m excited. But I’m also a little shocked. And why isn’t he calling me himself?”

Mossy laughed. “Jay is a busy boy, Gracie. He’s probably filming right now. Do you want him to ask everyone on the set to take a break so that he can call—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“Anyway, tonight’s the big night. Jay will pick you up around seven-thirty or eight.”

“What kind of date is this?”

“A dinner date, of course.”

“Why does everyone eat dinner so late here?”

He laughed. “You’ll get used to it, Gracie, in time.”

“Okay, so how do I dress?” she asked, thinking maybe it was a good thing Moss had set this up. That way she could ask all the questions she wanted.

“You dress to kill,” he said.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. This is a big night. A date with Jay Grayson. You want to look like the rock star you are—make an entrance.”

“I thought you said this was a date.” She frowned. “Am I going to have to sing for my supper?”

He laughed. “You can be so funny sometimes.”

“Seriously, what do I wear? Like a dress? Like going to a cocktail party at the Reynolds’s?”

“Exactly. Like a party at the Reynolds’s. You get the picture.”

“Thanks, Moss.”

“Have fun tonight, Gracie.”

“Yeah, if I can get past these nerves, I’ll try.”

After she hung up, Grace considered calling Kendra for some fashion advice, but knowing that Kendra would probably want to overdo it, Grace decided to just go with her instincts. Besides, after these past few weeks, she’d learned a thing or two. She could put herself together without help tonight.

Of course, her focus on getting ready for her date completely derailed her from working on that “next song.” Not that she’d been having any success. As usual, she seemed to be suffering from songwriter’s block.

Grace was ready for her big date by seven. But as the hands on the clock slowly moved, it became seven-thirty. She anxiously looked out the window to the street, trying not to see the church and the cross, hoping to spy a cool car since she was certain he would be driving a very cool car. But as it got closer to eight, her stomach was growling, and she was just heading for the kitchen to grab a quick bite to ward off her hunger, when she heard someone knocking at her door. She looked through the peephole to see him standing there, Mr. Hollywood, looking completely out of place in front of her shabby apartment. Why hadn’t she thought to just meet him somewhere.

“Hey,” she said as she opened the door. “Welcome to my world.” She made a goofy smile. “Hopefully it won’t be my world for long.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I used to live in a dump like this too.”

She tried not to react to the word
dump
.

“You ready to go?”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah.” She wanted to add she was starving but didn’t think that sounded quite right. Instead, she asked how his day had gone, and he immediately launched into a story about how everything went wrong on the set.

“I’ve had a call into my manager since this afternoon. I can’t believe he hasn’t returned my call.” He led her to a beautiful Porsche convertible parked in the visitors’ section and opened the door. “Our ride.”

“This is a gorgeous car, Jay.” She slid onto the leather seat and looked around, taking in all the electronic gear on the dash. Way more options than her car had.

“Thanks. Just one of the little perks of success.” He turned to smile at her from the driver’s seat. “You’ll get there too, Gracie. I can tell.”

She smiled and relaxed a little. “I sure hope so.”

Now he started talking about his journey to success and, although it took the pressure off of her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was watching a documentary on the life and achievements of Jay Grayson. And then she felt like slapping herself—was she crazy? Here she was riding through Hollywood in a gorgeous car with the even more gorgeous Jay Grayson seated next to her, and she was inwardly grousing about it. Really, she had to be nuts! Or maybe she was just hungry.

Chapter 14

A
fter her little lecture to herself, Grace forced herself to relax and play the attentive and adoring date. Who cared if Jay liked to talk about himself? And, really, it was interesting. And educational. Everyone in Hollywood had come from somewhere else. All of them had stories to tell. She could learn a lot from people like Jay. And he was hot!

When he pulled up to the swanky restaurant, she felt like she was playing a scene in a movie. The sun was just going down as not one, but two, valets hurried up to the car. One opened her door and helped her out. The other greeted Jay like an old buddy and took the keys to his car. Then, as if on cue, several paparazzi snapped photos of the two of them walking into the restaurant together. She felt like royalty. Oh, sure, someday she might resent having people snapping photos of her right and left. But that day was not here yet.

With her arm linked in Jay’s, she held her head high and, feeling like she was on top of the world, followed the maître d’ into a private lounge, which apparently was only for celebrities. Nice. They were barely there and seated when Jay’s phone buzzed. He excused himself, holding up his phone. “Gotta take this,” he said.

“No problem,” she said calmly. More than anything she wanted to appear poised and at ease. This may not have been her world before, but it was becoming her world now. She’d do everything she could to
make
it her world. She looked down at the cocktail dress she’d chosen for the evening. “A little bit classy and a little bit sassy,” is how Kendra described it when she’d shown it to her. Perfect, Grace decided as she leaned back and listened to the background music. It was a nice bluesy jazz number, sophisticated and smooth. Just right for the atmosphere.

She thought about where she’d been just a few months ago—as good as she’d been at daydreams, she never would have imagined she’d be here now. And with Jay Grayson! Really, it was a dream come true. She thought about pulling out her own phone right now, snapping a photo of herself, and shooting off a text to Rachel. Except that she could imagine Rachel’s response: (1) She’d be horrified that Grace was in a lounge. (2) She’d probably think Grace’s dress was to risqué. And (3) she’d probably say something snarky about Jay Grayson. No, this was just one more amazing moment that Grace would have to keep to herself.

“Sorry about that,” Jay said as he rejoined her. “My manager freaks if I don’t take his call.” He rolled his eyes as he dropped his phone back in his pocket. “Although he sure takes his time to answer mine.”

“No worries,” she smiled, resisting the urge to pinch herself.

“So what are you drinking?”

Grace considered this. Although she’d accepted several by now, from Kendra and Phoebe, she’d never actually ordered her own drink before. And she didn’t consider herself a drinker. Not that she wanted Jay to know that. More than anything she wanted to impress him. She wanted to make him believe that she fit in here with him—that she wasn’t really a hick. Suddenly she remembered Kendra’s favorite drink. “I’ll have a vodka martini,” she said with fake confidence, “with three olives.”

“Nice.” Jay smiled as he waved to the bartender who looked up eagerly. “Hey, Bobby, the little lady will have a Cîroc-tini, three olives. And get me a Black Bull.”

“You got it, Jay.”

Now Jay turned his attention back on her. “So . . . Gracie Trey, thanks for hanging out with me.”

She felt her heart flutter a little. “Oh, my pleasure.”

“You know that ever since your show last week, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

Okay, it took all her self-control not to leap to her feet and launch into a Snoopy happy dance right now. Instead, she took in a deep breath and just smiled. “Wow.”

He nodded. “Yeah, wow. So, tell me, Gracie Trey, what do you do when you’re not rocking the house? Tell me about the
real
Gracie Trey.”

And finally it was her turn to talk, but the problem was she really didn’t have much to say. Who was the real Gracie Trey? Did he mean her childhood? Because no way was she going to tell him about how she grew up hopping from church to church, playing her dad’s musical sidekick and puppet, sitting quietly on a pew while he told the story of how he’d thrown his life away as a troubled musician. She wasn’t going to tell him about eating cheap fast food and wearing secondhand clothes. And she didn’t want to talk about how she’d been on the worship team at church or how she could never do anything right in her dad’s eyes. Really, it seemed so much easier just to make stuff up—sure, mix in enough truth to make it believable.