Page 2 of Enemies Off Camera
“Thank you,” slips off my tongue like honey. I barely recognize my own voice. “And look at this delicious food, I…” My mouth freezes mid-sentence as laughter threatens to burst free.
“I…” I try again. My lips quiver. I close my eyes.Don’t laugh, Zara.
“Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather share it with,” I blurt, too fast—and then it happens. I burst out laughing.
Jax shakes his head like I’ve failed not only him, but the crew, the show, and maybe even myself.
“Really?” Betty groans in my ear.
I laugh harder. “But Icanthink of someone better to share this with. Something, actually. Like that fly buzzing around it.”
“You know what?” Jax shoots to his feet. “I’m out. Bring this shit to my room—I’m eating it alone.” He jabs a finger at me. “And don’t give her any.”
And that makes me laugh even harder.
What a jerk.
TWO
5 Hours Later
When I returned from our date, Heather and Ashley wanted to hear all about it. The cameras were rolling. I didn’t want to look those poor, sweet airheads in the eyes and lie—but I did.
I told them we had a lovely, tasty dinner of seafood. Too bad I don’t eat seafood, which is why I’m currently inhaling the catered Thai food in the kitchen. Bright-eyed, small-faced Ashley wanted to know if Jax and I kissed. The first words that came to mind werehell no, but instead I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, darling—he’s all yours.”
She lit up like a harvest moon. I was glad to give her that.
Ashley, with her tiny high-pitched voice and Disney-character looks, has been Jax’s favorite from the start. Of course she’s his type. She’s every guy’s type.Bubbly.Men love that word.
“She’s bubbly,” they say, like it’s a personality trait and not just the sound of her laugh echoing in their skulls.
Then I took a plate piled high with carbs and carried it to my room—which, thankfully, I now share with nobody but myself—and ate. With a full belly made from guilt-free gorging (I’ll worry about my diet when I’m back on the set of a real TV show or movie), I went straight to bed.
Bam,bam, bam...
Someone’s knocking on my door like they’re the cops. The vibration ripples through me, and I sit up, rubbing my eyes.
“Zara?” a familiar voice calls.
“What is she doing here?” I whisper, blinking hard. Maybe I’m dreaming.
“I’m coming in,” she says—and then in walks Anna Park, my agent.
One look at Anna and I feel a wave of resentment. She reeks of the outside world—the place I want to be right now.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, then glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s 11:33 p.m.
Anna is wearing jeans and a Bruins sweatshirt. I’ve never seen her dressed so casually—and she’s been my agent for three years. She looks exhausted. Deep purple digs in under both eyes, and she’s not even trying to hide them. Her neat bob is pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her pale, bloodless face.
I clutch at my rapidly beating heart, convinced I’ve screwed up my comeback after that dinner disaster.
“What’s going on?” I ask, short of breath.Six weeks down the drain because of one bad dinner. Stupid me.
She sighs, long and forceful. “I’ve got some good news,” she says, and I perk up. “And a qualifier of that good news.”
I wrinkle my nose. “A qualifier?”
“Heather’s been sent home. It was filmed. That was the deal with the dinner. Jax had to choose between you and her.”
