I like what I like.
The improvised reggae tune flashed through her mind. So Jet and J. Paul Getty had some things in common.
Passing the perfectly proportioned Getty Bronze, Cat leered. “Now there’s an athlete I’d like to meet.”
“And mighty Aphrodite,” Amber added.
Billie seethed. These bimbos shouldn’t have been allowed entrance.
The guide led the group to the second floor, which held some of the world’s most expensive paintings by masters such as Van Gogh, Manet and Renoir. Billie caught her breath standing before them, the colors and textures bringing the images to life. She was nearly left behind when the rest went to the upper floor where several galleries displayed French tapestries, clocks and furniture.
The guide led them down to the gardens. As described in the brochure, the bronze statues lining the long reflecting pool caught the sunlight. Billie remembered to take some photos of the
Rock Bottom
cast.
As they were leaving, she paused to capture the museum exterior, a gorgeous reconstruction of a Roman country manor.
Justin approached. “Ready?”
Surprised, she noticed the limo pulling away. “Isn’t Danny driving the van?”
“Nope, I am.”
She followed, exhilaration still coursing through her as they headed back. “Wasn’t that amazing? To be in the same room with a painting by a great artist. I’d forgotten what a jolt that is.”
“A jolt?” He pulled onto the Pacific Coast Highway and jammed his foot onto the gas pedal.
“Yeah, didn’t you feel it? Like the energy reached out and zapped you?”
“Um, no…”
“You were probably too busy filming. But I have to come back here sometime.”
“Why? We saw everything in the place.”
If he didn’t appreciate the rare antiquities, she couldn’t explain it. “So what’s the rush?”
“Still on the clock. One of them gets the boot tonight.”
“Right.” She’d almost forgotten. One less, and if she had to guess, it would be Amber. Jet’s graciousness ebbed when she complained and whined, though he’d said little.
Justin gunned it and they passed the limo. Its tinted windows left her to guess what went on inside. Girls must flank him, Ashley and Cat, if she were a betting woman. The two most aggressive contestants.
He pulled into the driveway beyond the house, and jumped out to film the limo’s arrival. Julie and Amber climbed out, followed by Ashley, then Cat and Jet. After they walked en masse down the walkway to the rear, Danny followed. By the time Billie snuck onto the patio, Jet stood by the pool, holding Julie’s hands, speaking softly.
The unexpectedly tender scene caused something inside Billie to roil up. Jet could certainly turn it on for the cameras.
And for you--or whomever suited the moment.
So confusing. His mirrored sunglasses reflected her distorted image, but she’d sensed his yearning. If only she could have seen his eyes. Seen what he was thinking.
He’d appeared so eager for her to come along today, even though they spent zero time together.
Because he’s the star of
Rock Bottom
,
Willamina
. Get real.
She missed Zin, missed her mom--everyone she cared about. But they were across the country, and Zin had enough of her own problems.
At least she’d gotten the hell out of here today, but she now had to endure watching him fawn over other women.
* * * *
What a nasty job. Let some other guy have it. Every day became more difficult to spend time with these women. He’d like to tell them all to hit the highway. His life wouldn’t be his own again until this reality nightmare ended.
After Julie kissed his cheek and moved away, he called Cat. Then Brianna. By the time he called Amber, everyone knew the obvious outcome, and a tear streaked her cheek.
Amber had to have seen it coming. Maybe even wanted it, until now. The moment of truth. She’d allowed herself to be relegated to the shadow of the others. With a sad smile, she kissed Jet goodbye and went inside. Camera rolling, Justin followed, no doubt for commentary. Her final minute of the allotted fifteen.
One down, four to go.
* * * *
Billie couldn’t stand watching one more second.
And you have work to do.
According to her agreement, she couldn’t inform viewers of Jet’s decision before the episode aired. But she could provide clues. Select telling photos of Amber on the fringes of the entourage, frowning or wincing, leaving no doubt as to the latest loser.
Still, her elimination only made Julie’s staying more of a puzzle.
Enough. People with no lives ruminated on such trivialities.
People like you.
Lying in bed, Billie kicked at the covers, glanced at the clock again and again.
None of these girls seemed a good match for Jet. The only one smart enough seemed to be Julie, but Billie saw no spark between the two. He spoke to her with exaggerated politeness, almost on a professional level. She treated him respectfully, not like an adoring fan.
How do you know what goes on in that house?
He might be in her bed every night, or she in his. The image that flashed through her head forced her upward.
Billie paced to the window. Sleep would elude her until she worked off some of the buzz in her nerves. A walk, maybe. Better yet, a swim. Glancing at the clock, she wondered if anyone else might be awake at two forty-five. Probably never a better time to have the pool to herself. This way, no one would have the chance to mock her modest two-piece bathing suit.
Outside, a balmy breeze swirled. The solar lights around the pool still gave off a soft glow, and the light below the water stayed on all night, apparently. A safety precaution, she guessed, so any floating bodies could be skimmed away before prying paparazzi found them.
Kicking off her flip-flops, she dropped her towel on a lounge chaise and went to the steps. Dipping in a toe, she found the water pleasantly warm, so she descended and pushed off midway down. Relaxing as a bath. Her even strokes wouldn’t win any medals, but they helped unwind her tight nerves. At the other end, she swirled underwater and thrust away from the wall, emerging midway. Something caught her eye, made her slow and surface.
Jet sat on the edge of the pool, beer bottle in hand. “I thought you weren’t a night owl.”
Smoothing back her hair, she treaded water. “I’m not usually.”
“You miss the best part of the day, you know.”
Seeing him sitting there, something tugged at her heart. As surrounded as he normally was by too many people, he seemed so alone.
After submerging, she emerged at the side and leaned her elbows on the tile. “When it’s quiet?”
He tilted the bottle to his lips. “The only time it’s cool all day. And the stars.” Looking up, he leaned back. “If the city lights don’t drown them out. There’s a few tonight.”
She pushed up and sat beside him. “Nothing like back home.”
He swung toward her easily. “Where’s that?”
She tried to ignore the warmth of his shoulder permeating hers. “My mom’s farm. More stars there than you could imagine.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is.” A new wave of homesickness made her wish she was there.
“I’d love to see it sometime.” He said it with complete earnestness, a wistfulness in his voice.
She laughed. “If you’re ever in central Pennsylvania, knock on her door. She’ll make you a nice pot roast too.”
He clutched his stomach. “Oh, you’re killing me. I might have to go now.”
“It’s probably a little too much reality for you. The farm odors alone can overwhelm you on humid days.”
“I bet you get used to it. And I’d put up with a few minor downsides to heaven.” His steady gaze and teasing grin unnerved her, made her catch her breath. Made her wish for things she knew were impossible. “I should say goodnight.” After standing, she retrieved her towel and wrapped it around her waist.
“I’ve been thinking,” he blurted.
She paused.
“About our interview.”
“Oh?” She could think of nothing more meaningful, but knew she didn’t have to. He wanted to keep the conversation going, to keep her there. It must get lonely in that crowd of people with no one to talk to. She’d lend a sympathetic ear. No other body parts, no matter how his open shirt ruffled in the breeze to reveal his chiseled chest and six-pack abs. No matter how ocean blue his eyes appeared.
She took her place beside him. “Pick up whatever thread you want.”
* * * *
Jet fingered the edge of her towel and cast her a mischievous grin.
Pulling away the towel, she said pointedly, “Thread of conversation.”
He clucked his tongue. “All right.” After jumping up, he jogged to the pool house. “Hold that thought.” He ran inside and grabbed two bottles. Handing her one, he plunked down again.
“Thanks.” She scanned the patio, the house. “Are you sure we’re okay here? No one filming from the bushes?”
Biting his lip, he stood. “You’re right. Might be a good idea to get out of sight.” An excellent idea, in fact. He grabbed her arm and tugged her up. “Let’s take a walk. If any bushes move, signal me.”
“Okay.”
When she squeezed his hand, it both energized him and stole his breath away.
He led her behind the pool house and across an expanse of grass to a walkway. “There’s a really nice garden over this way. So I’m told.” He headed across the driveway.
“You’ve never seen it?” Stumbling, she hissed through her teeth and halted abruptly.
His arm around her waist steadied her. “You all right?” Warmth surged through him.
Wincing, she held her foot and inspected it. “I should’ve worn my flip-flops.”
“Here.” He bent, looped his arm behind her knee and lifted.
Gasping, her arm around his neck. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t often get the opportunity to show my chivalrous side. Don’t argue.” He tried to ignore the feel of her soft flesh pressing into his muscles, how her body fit his contours.
“So what did you want to talk about?”
“Music, of course.” He’d ease into other subjects. “I’m curious. Why are you pushing so hard for me to record something new?”
“Because that’s why you’re in this business, isn’t it? Because you love music so much you have to create more?”
He stared ahead, concentrated on carrying her. Her question dredged up too many unanswered questions of his own. Frustrations.
She curled the bottle to her chest. “Your first album excited me more than any other musician’s. And when you released your second, I thought, oh, the sophomore album, the letdown. I’ll excuse him this one. But when I heard it, your music was even better. And you kept evolving, album after album, and each one made me more excited than the last. But then you just stopped. You went stagnant. I was so frustrated. I knew you had more in you, but you’re not letting it out. Now I find out you’ve been creating new music, but you won’t record it. I just don’t understand what you’re afraid of.”
His body grew rigid. “I’m not afraid.” How could she know how terrifying failure could be? He loved the new songs he wrote, but his fans might not. Stu would call them “outside the box,” if Jet allowed him to hear.
“What’s holding you back then?”
Irritation flared. “You really think I’m nothing but a fake. That this is all a put-on.”
“Isn’t it?” Her tone carried a challenge.
He set her down on the grass.
She straightened. “You can’t seriously think you’ll find a soul mate on a reality show?”
He clutched the bottle tighter, but gave a nonchalant shrug. “Who’s to say? Fate determines where. If it’s here, then I’m not going to fight it.”
“So you think one of them might be…the one?”
“I didn’t say that.” And wouldn’t.
She stood so near, his skin felt abuzz with her warmth. Lights lining the driveway muted her face.
A nervous chuckle bubbled from her.
He flinched. “What?”
Ducking her head, she gave a wry smile. “I just flashed back to high school. Senior prom. I slow danced with Bob Myers to your song.”
“Lucky Bob.” The words rumbled from his throat.
“I wanted him to be you so badly.” She looked off into the darkness.
Why the hell was she telling him this? “You did?”
You do?
“Me and every other girl there.”
“So you were in love with me?” He teased. A little too smugly, he realized, when her smile faded.
“Like I said, me and every other teeny-bopper in America. And you don’t feel loved enough?”
“No.” Seriousness settled over him as he studied her. “So what are your thoughts on finding a soul mate?”
“Maybe not everyone does.” Her soft voice was thick with yearning.
He
tsk
ed. “You’re such a cynic. Come on, really--you’re not hoping to find ‘the one’?”
A wistful sadness crept across her. “Hoping and finding are two different things.”
“Not necessarily.”
She stood so near, every pore of his body came alive, seemed to reach for her.
When her only answer was to furrow her brow, he went on.
Now or never.
“Sometimes the universe doesn’t give you what you want when you want it.” He added more softly, “Sometimes, it gives it to you when you’re ready for it.” He reached up to brush a strand of hair past her shoulder.
At his touch, she drew in a soft breath as she faced him. Studied him.
Being here with her now felt very right. Very good. Almost too good to be real. He waited for some signal from her, some sign she felt the same.
Her words caught in her throat. “I have to go.” Abruptly, she strode off.
“Wait.” What the hell just happened?
“No. I’m not listening to any more of your spin. You should have been a reporter.”
“You want to hear what I have to say,” he called.
“What an ego! Every female’s waiting to hear you proposition them.”
“I only meant--”
“Save your breath.”
When he caught up to her, she seemed to have trouble catching her own. Her breaths came so fast, she might be hyperventilating.
“Listen to me.” He gripped her arm.
She jerked her arm. “Stop it.”
Stifling a smile, he held fast. “Stop you from going the wrong way?”