Page 28 of She's the Star

“Absolutely not,” Amber responds without looking up from the chip she’s swirling through a mound of guacamole.

My tension releases at the realization that Amber isn’t going to agree. I offer a spoonful of beans to Maddy as Mina snorts. “Brian told them you’d say that.”

“I don’t know why they asked. We’ve had this conversation before. I won’t pretend to date someone for publicity. They know it. So does Brian. So do you. I don’t care if he’s the lead singer of an up-and-coming band and they want him to sell more albums.” She swipes her next chip into the guacamole, and it cracks into three pieces. She frowns and swipes up the smallest piece.

Mina takes an unnecessarily large bite of taco and then chews slowly as if she’s thinking. “It would quell the Teddy rumors.”

“By starting other rumors. That is the last thing I need.” She presses the other two pieces of chips together and pops them into her mouth.

Mina drops her taco and holds up her hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. You told Brian to inform you when the label suggested you consider something you’d already informed them you wouldn’t do. This is me informing you.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m on your side. If Eden Carmichael wants to be famous, he should do the work, not try to piggyback off your success.”

“Does that happen a lot?” I ask, unable to stop myself. She approaches fame so differently than I’m used to. My father wouldn’t hesitate to fake a date. Or twenty.

“Not lately. I mean—I just had a baby with another man. A man the label would love for me to reconcile with. Since that isn’t going to happen, they occasionally try to convince me to date other people. It would be a win-win for them. Publicity for him while putting a spotlight on my tour.”

“I thought the tour was sold out?”

She rolls her eyes. “It is. But they’re never satisfied.”

“I’m surprised they let you tell them no.”

“I’m sure they don’t like it. And they’d rather make me do what they want, but I’m their golden ticket. They haven’t been able to boss me around for years. They ask, I say no, and we move on.” She picks up a taco and takes a delicate bite.

“Why do they keep asking?”

“Because if I won’t date Teddy again, then they want me to find the next Teddy.”

She says it like the last thing she wants is a boyfriend. Doesn’t she get lonely? I almost ask her, but her dating life isn’t any of my business.

NINE

AMBER

The next week passes in a blur of activity, and it’s Sunday before I know it.

Maddy is in the pool with Teddy while I’m sitting on a lounge chair in the shade and strumming on my guitar. Teddy and I haven’t really talked since he met Nolan, and I think it might be by design. He left almost as soon as I came outside last week and he’s hardly said anything at all today, but he’s acting odd, darting glances in my direction and then hardly responding when I try to make conversation. Since he isn’t one for subtlety, I think he’d tell me outright if he didn’t like Nolan. Although his behavior at the moment does suggest otherwise.

After about an hour, Maddy starts fussing and Teddy dashes out of the pool like he spotted a shark.

He gets even more anxious than I do when she’s unhappy, so he heads directly toward me. Like magic, Nolan appears on the pool deck, a beach towel in his hands. He glances at me and asks, “Should I get her ready for bed?”

When I nod, Nolan smoothly transfers Maddy into his arms.

I scoot to the edge of the lounger so I can follow them into the house, but Teddy snags my attention before I stand up. “Could you…uh…keep me company for a bit? I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.” His eyes droop pitifully and his bottom lip quivers. “Just for a few minutes.”

It’s hard to say no when he looks so pathetic, and I’m curious about what is going on with him so with a fleeting glance at Nolan and Maddy, I settle back onto the lounger.

I expect Teddy to drop onto the one next to me, but instead, he stays on his feet and runs his hand through his wet hair. He slowly trails his fingers down his chest. It’s an action that looks suspiciously like the one he used in the cologne ad he filmed last summer. I narrow my eyes. Is he trying to entice me? It wouldn’t be the first time. Fortunately, I’m mostly immune to his attractiveness, so I raise my brow and wait.

With a frown, he grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist.

I carefully keep my expression blank when he flops down next to me and steals the guitar I set aside. He doesn’t say anything as he starts playing one of his oldest songs. He doesn’t sing, just lazily plays while I lean back and listen. I wish all our interactions were this peaceful.

“You written anything new?” he asks suddenly as he surges into an unfamiliar tune.

“Nope.” He knows that I toy with ideas for months, letting them formulate in my brain, and then when I get into the studio, they burst out in a flurry. The only songs I ever wrote on the fly were the ones I wrote with him.

“I think I’m going to open my tour with a new song. Wanna hear it?”

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