Page 29 of Heart to Heart
As if reading my mind, Sasha’s eyes trailed over to Bianca’s bed. “I think we both know who the most likely suspect is. But in reality, Avery, the second we stepped out of that van, we were thrown into the middle of a battle. Except, in this war, we have no idea who’s on our side or who’s just biding their time, waiting for us to fall asleep so they can stab us in the back. Trust no one.”
CHAPTER 15
TRISTAN
I buttonedup a fresh pair of trousers, almost the same color as the ones that Avery’s cake—turned missile—had accosted. For once, I was thankful that Wanda had insisted on there being a menagerie of suits at my disposal in case of an emergency. Either she had ESP, or she had been well-informed of the wardrobe malfunctions that often happened on these shows. A few seasons ago, the show’s star bent over and split his pants down the back during a live results broadcast, resulting in a full moon shot of his posterior the audience at home had not been prepared for—despite the show’sAnything Can Happenslogan—and fines the network never wanted to pay again.
My head spun with the names and faces of all the women I’d met so far. No amount of preparation could have adequately prepared me for this evening. I felt exposed, my mind going blank, names and faces forgotten in the chaos. Maybe I’d made a mistake by agreeing to do the show. I was in over my head, drowning with a smile on my face.
The soiled trousers I’d been wearing were draped over the back of a chair in my trailer, remnants of cake still clinging to them. IfIwas having what felt like a lousy night, I wondered howthe rest of Avery’s evening was going. I’d been wondering a lot about Avery, actually. I tried to get her smile out of my head and stay focused.
Only any focus I’d had, had flown out the window when I saw her step out from the limo. Her curly hair cascading past her shoulders as the slight breeze made the dark ringlets roll like waves in the night. It was an image I wouldn’t soon get out of my head.
I picked up the trousers, ran my finger over a glob of pink frosting and licked it off. As incredible as it smelled, it tasted even better. Then, before I knew what I was doing, I’d grabbed some remnants of the cake to eat it, letting the vanilla bean flavor transport me back to my childhood. Cake was my comfort food, and I hardly believed this was a coincidence. Avery had done her homework instead of relying on gimmicks to make an impression.
She meant business. She was here for all the right reasons, which was why I had to cut her loose. Letting her stay would be cruel when I knew my goal didn’t involve an engagement or even a short-term relationship.
I whirled around at the sound of a couple of swift knocks on my trailer door, followed by it swinging open and my assistant John’s large frame filling the doorway. John Moffit had been hired by Wanda to help me during the show and looked more like Denzel Washington than Denzel Washington looked like Denzel Washington. He was all leading man material in a form-fitting black crewneck, the peaks and valleys of his toned muscles on full display. He made me look like a schlub by comparison. In his hands was a pink and blue box that I recognized as being the one Avery’s cake had been in. His eyes shifted from my face to the trousers in my hand and the icing coating my fingers.
“Were you eating cake from the crotch of your pants?” he asked, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk.
Without breaking eye contact, I threw the trousers back on the chair. “You’re being paid to assist, not judge, John.”
“No judgment from me. This is in the top three best cakes I’ve ever had. It’s too bad it had to go to waste like it did.”
“Wait, you’ve tried it? Is there some left in there?” I snatched the box from him, opening it to find smashed remnants of what used to be cake.
“I was going to throw the box away, but I noticed the note on the inside of the lid, and I thought maybe you’d want to read it, considering how much trouble that girl went to.”
“Note?” I lifted the lid that was dangling over the side of the box and discovered handwriting, full of delicate, graceful loops and circles in place of dots punctuating the ‘i’s’. God, even her handwriting was cute.
Tristan,
I can’t dance or sing. I’m not a supermodel or a movie star. But my mom is a damn fine baker, which by my calculations, should make me a solid seven by association.
I read that this was a favorite of yours and hope this token doesn’t come across as too stalkery. I’m looking forward to getting to know each other.
-Avery
Either Avery was a fan of self-deprecating humor, or she was utterly oblivious to her strengths, which were steadily mounting the more I was getting to know her.
“The note isn’t that long, Tristan,” John chuckled, snapping me out of my fifteenth read-through. “Do you want me to read it to you?”
“Someone brought jokes.” I closed the lid so that I would quit staring at Avery’s note like some deranged serial killer stalking his next victim. “It’s refreshing, working with someone with a personality who doesn’t feel it important at all to try to kiss my ass.”
“Wanda isn’t paying me to kiss anyone’s ass,” John replied matter-of-factly, shrugging. “She is, however, paying me to get you on set on time. Which is exactly why you should step away from the cake and get back there. They’re itching to get this show on the road. Quite literally, as there’s a limo getting ready to take off.”
I sighed. “Well, I suppose if I’m being summoned.” I set the cake down on a counter in front of the styling chair, where hair and makeup worked on me before each show, my finger brushing along the raised ridge where the lid met the body of the box. Confused when I brushed against something affixed to it, I peered down to see a sticker advertising Claire’s Country Confections overlaying the image of a smiling cupcake with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. This must be Avery’s mother’s bakery.
Along the outside edge of the circular sticker, following its perimeter clockwise, were the social media handles for the bakery.
“Are you coming, or have you changed your mind? If you can pay me more than Wanda, I can help you make a break for it.”
I glanced up at a smiling John, who somehow looked even more like Denzel than he had only two minutes ago, and shook my head. “No hasty getaway will be necessary.” I picked up my phone, scrolling until I found my Twitter app, forgetting at first that the bird had been shot down and replaced with an evenmore ridiculous logo. “You can tell the crew that I’ll be right out after I take care of something.”
CHAPTER 16
AVERY
