Page 47 of Love at First Sighting
Carter eyes his glass. “No mixers?”
“You don’t need mixers,” she says, but I can tell right away her acting career in Hollywood is not going well. “Terra Vodka is made from the finest ingredients.Sogood you don’t need to mix it with anything.”
Somehow, I doubt that.
Carter tips his hat with one hand and throws the shot back with me. I would love to say this vodka tastes like “prosperity” like it boasts in the commercials, but it tastes like nail polish remover and lighter fluid. It might have seared a hole in my stomach lining. Not even the years of mixing just about anything with vodka in my teens could prepare me for this.
However, I’m doing better than Carter, whose eyes are fully glossy, and he looks like he’s trying with all his might to not choke and embarrass us. Instead, he swallows, blinks the tears away, and gives the model a thumbs-up.
“Excelsior!” he struggles out.
The model gives him a polite smile back before lowering her voice. “It’s better if you mix it with pineapple juice.”
“Nowyou tell us,” Carter grunts.
“Thank you,” I say, taking Carter by the arm and guiding him farther into the venue.
I rest my hands on Carter’s shoulders, moving in to adjust his crooked tie, slant his hat down. It’s like I’ve turned up his suaveness by doing so, and a coy smirk rises to his lips. Cartergives me a look that screamsplay with me, and god do I want to. But not here. We have work to do.
I know how this scene works. Ladder climbers and gossips look carefully at every single person arriving at the party, questioning how they got an invite, what business they have here, and they’re ready to spill the attendance to the internet and cause a stir. My throat tightens as I think of what they’ll say of me.
Influencer El Martin Shows Up to Ian Forte’s Launch Party with an Unknown.
Despite all her bad press, she’s still managed to get Ian’s attention.
OrShe’s using him because her sponsorships are drying up.
What they won’t write about is how happy I look or how carefree I feel. Tonight, I choose to follow my heart and not the algorithm.
I catch the eyes of glitter-clad models and tech bros who I swear I must have matched with at some point. Jenna Holland, a famous beauty blogger recovering from a cancellation after she got hot-mic’d saying she doesn’t want poor people using her products, saunters by and flips her hair at me. I don’t associate with her. I’m also one ofmanyto avoid the recently canceled and washed-up Skroll personality with frosted tips who’s trying to schmooze with no success. I spot another model, who I crossed paths with briefly in line for cheese sandwiches at Fyre Fest. She asks me quickly how I’m “coping.” I’m not sure if she’s referring to Fyre Fest or my current debacle.
I know how to work these parties. I know how to get sponsorships and deals out of these kinds of people.
I can get information out of Ian Forte, too.
I just have to find a way to get close to him.
Carter turns to me and holds out his arm. I slide my arm through his, clutching his bicep as he leads me into the parlor. I’m used to men wanting to use me for elevation. Meanwhile, Carter wants to show me off and let me outshine him.
The rest of the group follow behind us and we snag an unoccupied cocktail table. Bex gloms on to other influencers who cross our paths. They swoop to her, but only give me curt smiles. For some reason, the girl pulling a Hilaria Baldwin is more likable than the one who saw a UFOone time. Jet quickly whisks Carter away to hit the bar, with an enthusiastic “let’s go, old sport” and a clap on the shoulder so hard it makes him wince in pain. That’s when Bex and Lea both drag me to their side of the table.
“We need ta have a chat,” Bex says.
“About?” But I already know. It’s either Carter or my dress. It’s not a chat. It’s going to be a fight. I’m not fully sure I’m chill enough to not throw my drink on her, though.
“About this wanker you’ve brought with you.”
“He’s said maybe two words to you and you haven’t gotten his name right at all. What’d he do wrong already?”
“It’s who heis. A nobody. He’s got no online presence atall. Like, where the bloody hell did you find this guy? Bloody H&R Block?”
My lips stitch together. Lea still doesn’t look up from her phone. I’m afraid to know what she’s become a crusader for this week. As I catch a look over her shoulder, I see her googling “what to kno about limes disease.” Great. We’re in for a treat.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Bex hisses. “It does. It matters a hell of a lot. We’re trying to make ourselves a household name and that doesnotinclude you dating a nobody. You need to be with someone with status, and this guy, Calvin—”
“Carter,” I snap.
