Page 36 of Loaded

“If you aren’t wearing something that’s miserably uncomfortable, you aren’t ready yet.” He sighs as he brushes past me and starts chucking things out of my closet. “This is really, really shameful.” He spins around, thrusting a pair of boring camel heels at me. “Really?Steve Madden? How old are you?”

“Old enough to remember when you wore Steve Maddens,” I mutter.

“Ineverwore Steve Maddens.”

“You wore Birkenstocks, and that’s worse.”

Jake laughs. “Put these on, and when you win in spite of your horrible wardrobe, you’re going to let me take you shopping, finally.”

“I won’t win,” I mutter. “And now I’m going to have blisters on top of it.”

“A lot of whether you win with something like this comes down to your attitude.” Jake grabs my shoulders and lifts me up an inch and a half. He stares me right in the eyes. “You will look right at those judges, and you will keep your chin up. Like this.” He keeps staring.

“That’s creepy,” I say.

He laughs. “Be creepy, then, and smile.” He releases me and lifts his hands past his face, his smile lifting at the same time.

“That’s even scarier.”

“This is a million-dollar smile,” he says. “And yours has got to be worth?—”

“At least half that?”

He snorts. “I was gonna say twenty bucks, but yeah. Let’s go with a half-mil.”

I punch his shoulder. “You said you’d sing while I play.”

“I saidifyou choke up, andifthey allow it, I’d sing it for you.”

“The rules don’t say you can’t have someone else sing it,” I say. “It just says it has to be performed on stage.”

“But if I go up there, we’d have to share the credit,” Jake says. “It did say that, and do you really think they want a movie star to win their prize?”

“Your agent would lose his mind.”

“I’ll do it,” Jake says, “if that’s what you need.” He drops his voice. “But this is supposed to beyourtime to shine, not mine.”

“I hate spotlights,” I say.

“Oh, I remember.” But he stops grumbling and ordering and he walks quietly alongside me to his ridiculous car. At least his car gets me there early, and if I’m queasy from the speed, well, we aren’t late.

As we’re walking in, I notice Emerson and Easton, standing shoulder to shoulder just inside the double doors of the auditorium. “Bea,” Emerson says. “You look great!”

“Don’t say that.” Jake groans. “She’ll insist she doesn’t need any new clothes if you compliment her.”

Emerson smiles. “Plebians like Bea and I don’t need new outfits every time we leave the house.”

“Exactly,” I say.

“New clothes aren’t always a bad idea,” Easton says. “Sometimes they help you feel ready for whatever you’re facing.”

“I don’t want to agree with you,” Jake says. “If you could do me a favor and not say anything smart like that, it would be great.”

“Not all of us can be uniformly stupid,” Emerson says. He turns toward Easton. “Jake’s never been accused of saying smart things.”

“Not without a team of writers to script his lines, at least,” I say.

Jake rolls his eyes, but when we walk into the main auditorium, I’m surrounded by three handsome men who all want to see me succeed. It’s more than a lot of people can claim, I’m sure. “Thanks for coming,” I say.

---