Jia nodded, tears burning her eyes. She let them fall now, because she didn’t mind if these two saw them.
Rhiannon cleared her throat. “I have to ask, did you text this person any nudes? If so, I know a guy who—”
“No!”
“Don’t sound so scandalized.” Rhiannon shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a nude here or there.”
“I know. I’m not judging anyone. I didn’t send any nudes.” Jia’s face was turning red. She might talk to her audience rather frankly about adult matters, but it was different when she was the subject of those matters. “We never even discussed sex.”
“And you didn’t send any money or anything?” Katrina asked.
Jia shook her head.
“If you’re trying to figure out what this person got out of this, Katrina, don’t bother. Catfishers make no sense,” Rhiannon remarked. “There are sickos out there. Who knows.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Katrina murmured. “In any case, and I cannot stress this enough, love, don’t text him. This is your first big hurt, yes? Don’t drag it out any more than you have to.”
“I’m going to be hurt more than this?” Jia’s voice rose to a squeak.
Katrina winced, and Jia didn’t know if it was because of her words, or Rhiannon’s obvious return kick under the table. “Uh, of course not. I was—”
“Stop hitting each other. I get it.” Jia did her best to give them her brightest, best smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to call him. In fact, the first thing I’m going to do before work is erase his messages from my phone.”
Rhiannon patted her back. “Atta girl. Are you sure you don’t want me to . . . ?” She sliced her finger over her throat.
Jia smiled despite her blue mood. “Nah. We are going to banish this man from all our memories. He’s never going to be a part of my life again.”
And for a moment there, surrounded by sunshine and girl power, Jia actually believed those words might be true.
Chapter Four
“OKAY, LET’S take a look at today’s mask. It’s a blueberry acai concoction, and it’s meant to be particularly good for acne and oily skin. I used to have a ton of acne when I was in my teens, but once I started a regular skin care regimen, it cleared right up.” Jia’s laugh tinkled through Dev’s speakers. In this video, she was in a blindingly white bathroom, perched on a small stool. Her hair was wrapped up simply, and she wore an oversize pajama shirt. Her face was shiny and clean. “Just kidding. I lucked out when my sister went into dermatology and I got buried in samples. Ten steps can’t cure everything, some of us need prescription intervention. I’ll link to some of those videos below.”
She spread the blue mud over her forehead, her expression focused, as she continued to patter about cleanser and serum and exfoliation. This was a series she called Unmasked Masks, where she tried out a new face mask and answered viewer questions. Dev knew it was a regular feature, because he’d been watching far too many of her videos over the last fourteen hours or so. In fact, the only time he hadn’t been watching one of her videos was when he was sleeping or on his way to the set or getting in costume. It was research! That was all. Until his super-assistant John got back to him on what her deal was.
He glanced around the bustling set. He was sitting at one of the makeup stations, waiting by himself. He’d done nothing but wait on set so far.
It was a far cry from his previous job. Twenty-five hundred episodes in over ten years meant he’d always been constantly filming something. When he hadn’t been filming, he’d been writing or talking to the director or speaking with the other actors.
This is different.
It was. Their first season, an eighteen-episode run, and he was one of six lead characters. Not to mention, this was their first real week of work. He shouldn’t compare.
Anyway, it meant more time for Jia.
“I was trying to figure out which question to answer during this video, and I’ll be honest, I got stalled on one. It started with you shouldn’t. Like, I don’t even remember what the rest of the comment was, it started with those words, and I got so . . . annoyed. And I think it’s because I’m so sick of strangers on the internet telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, you know?”
Dev cupped his chin in his hand. This, he did know. The only time the public had left him alone was during his childhood in Dubai. As soon as he’d become Vivek and Shweta’s grandson, his privacy had vanished. It was one of the many reasons he stayed off the internet.
Jia squinted as she carefully drew the blue mask over the bridge of her elegant nose, and down to her upper lip. “I get it. When you make your life public, you open yourself up to criticism. But I feel like sometimes I get so much more of it than anyone else, and it’s not fair. You shouldn’t wear that, you shouldn’t go there, you shouldn’t be so vain, you shouldn’t talk like that.”
Dev frowned. What rude creatures dared to say such things? He would fight them.
A tiny matching scowl emerged on her blue forehead. She looked like an indignant, cute Smurf. “Who made user89384 the police, I ask you? No one. I decide what I do and how I do it. Not you, user89384. Okay, the instructions say the mask should be on for ten minutes.” She adjusted a timer next to her. “The other kind of question I get asked a lot starts with should I, and that also worries me. Honestly, I don’t need anyone’s approval or opinion, and in return, I don’t want to force my approval on anyone else. That’s so much pressure on me. What if I tell you the wrong thing! Everyone should be able to do whatever they want with their bodies and their lives.” She wrinkled her nose, the mud creasing. “I think this mask is making my skin dry out, ew. I don’t think I’m a fan, but let’s wash—”
“Dev?”
Dev looked up and turned off his phone with all the speed of someone watching a far more illicit video than a modestly clad woman wearing a face mask. “Yes?” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Hello.”
The man standing in front of him beamed at him. Hudson Rivers—his real name, he’d assured Dev—was a rising star with a chiseled jawline and sun-kissed brown hair. He was the star of the show, the beleaguered single father trying to raise a daughter on his own. Dev played his sidekick friend, and not a very good one at that. His character had cheated with the man’s wife.
Dev had never done an infidelity arc. A romantic lead hero was supposed to be just that—a hero, and heroes didn’t cheat.
He’d like to think that the writers were trying to create a layered, nuanced character, but he was starting to think he’d been slightly misled, and he wasn’t one of the heroes of the show at all.
It is fine. Close your eyes and think of the money.
Hope Street had offered more than anyone else, and it did have some big American names in it. Like Hudson.
“Sorry to bother you. We haven’t gotten to talk much. I was hoping to have time to chat with you at the party yesterday, but Richard monopolized me for most of the night.” Hudson’s good-natured shrug complemented the humblebrag.
Richard Reese played Hudson’s father in the show and was the top-billed actor. He didn’t seem to care much about anyone on the show, especially Dev, whom he’d dismissed on sight at their first table read.