“Oh, I don’t care what they pay me,” I say. “I’d pay them to get to be on the show.”
Daria flags down a roving server and the three of us grab flutes of champagne. With a loud whoop, we clink and drink and talk excitedly about the amazing news. But when the topic of conversation shifts, and Aloha and Daria fall into a conversation about a career decision for Aloha, I can’t resist sneaking a peek at Mr. Perfect across the party again.
This time, when I peep Savage, I’m shocked and thrilled to discover he’s not focused on his friends, like last time. This time, he’s looking straight at me. My heart stops as Savage’s dark eyes fix on mine, but I try to play it off like I’m totally unfazed and only vaguely interested, if at all. I know full well what I’m dealing with here—the kind of guy who can get any woman at this party. Actually, in the world. So, of course, on pure instinct, I’m instantly hell-bent on making him think he can’t get me.
To my surprise, Savage doesn’t look away, but continues brazenly staring at me, his dark eyes smoldering and his jaw set. Until . . . Oh, no! Shit! I waited too long to look away and let him do it first. Stupid Laila. Talk about a rookie mistake.
Granted, Savage’s buddy—the drummer in the band, I think?—put his arm around Savage’s shoulders, diverting his attention. So, I don’t think Savage looked away from me out of a lack of interest. But, still, it was a dumb error by me, all the same. With players like Adrian Savage, a girl should always be the first to look away. Always. She needs to be the one who couldn’t care less. Now that Savage knows he’s got me hooked on his line—which is exactly the opposite of what I should let him think—who knows if I’ll be able to attract his attention again tonight. Damn.
“Laila?”
I return to Aloha and Daria to find it’s Daria who’s spoken my name.
Daria continues, “When does Reed plan to release your second album?”
I’m flustered. Still reeling from the exciting news about the show. Feeling aroused by that sexy smolder Savage flashed me. Also, pissed as hell I’ve stumbled so stupidly in my effort to ensnare him.
“Oh. Uh.” I take a deep breath, collecting myself. “We’re not finished recording, but close. We only have a few more minor things to add before sending it off to mixing and mastering. At that point, we’ll set the schedule for release, promo, and a tour.”
Aloha smirks. “Who were you looking at, babe?”
“Huh? Me? Nobody. When?”
“Just now.” Aloha flashes me a side-eye. “Who was it, honey? I know you. Somebody’s got you all worked up.”
I blush. On tour, Aloha teased me all the time for being attracted to players and fuckboys. The ones who are the most fun to bring to their knees—but the least likely to stay there for long. “Yeah, I was being true to form. Having a staring contest with Savage from Fugitive Summer.”
Aloha giggles. “Oh, God, Laila. You’re so predictable. Didn’t you learn your lesson with Shawn?” She’s talking about my last boyfriend—a rookie basketball player for the Clippers I dated about six months ago. Shawn pursued me relentlessly, at first, and said all the right things . . . before turning out to be the world’s biggest d-o-g when he finally felt certain he had me.
Aloha looks at Daria. “Poor Laila has the worst taste in men. They’re always gorgeous. The hottest guys in the room. But nice boys need not apply.”
“Ugh. I can relate,” Daria says. She winks at me. “It’s a sickness, isn’t it? Pure insanity, in the true sense of the word, to think, over and over again, we can be the ones to tame them.”
“Exactly,” I murmur, rolling my eyes at myself. “The problem is . . . it’s so damned fun bringing a cocky bastard to his knees. Truly, my favorite past-time, though I haven’t had the pleasure in a while.”
Daria laughs. “Girl, you’re my spirit animal. Oh, by the way, honey, don’t post about being on the show yet, okay? The deal is done and official. But they’re not promoting the next season until this one wraps up. I’m sure they’ll want to be the one to announce all new cast members for the next season.”
“Is it okay if I tell my mom and sister?”
“Only if you’re positive they won’t blab about it to anyone, even unintentionally. The producers are insane about controlling all promo.”
“I’ll wait, then. Better safe than sorry. My mom would never purposefully let the cat out of the bag, but who knows what she might say, unintentionally, while drinking wine with her best friends.” I sigh happily. “My mom will be so excited when she hears the news. We never missed Sing Your Heart Out in my house. Every week, my family watched and dreamed of me being on the show one day.”
It’s a true statement, although, technically, we dreamed of me being the winner of the singing competition. Or, better yet, a full-time judge on the show, like Aloha is now. But there’s no reason for me to say any of that to Daria, after she’s secured such an amazing windfall for me, this early in my career. The singing competition attracts icons to its ranks, even as mentors. The fact that Daria secured a spot for me at all is close to a miracle.
“I truly can’t thank you enough, Daria,” I say. “This is the chance of a lifetime.”
“It’s Aloha who deserves most of the credit,” Daria replies. “She joined me on the conference call with the producers and convinced them they’d be stupid not to hire you.”
I clutch my heart. “Aloha! You did not! Thank you!”
Aloha shrugs. “You were a tough sell, dude. They were convinced you’re a raving bitch who’d be a nightmare to work with, thanks to your face.”
I burst out laughing at the inside joke. During our tour together, Aloha and I teased each other constantly about our resting bitch faces. For both of us, unless we’re literally smiling from ear to ear, we look like we’re sulking or plotting murder. As a child star on the Disney channel for a decade, Aloha expertly learned to mask her resting bitch face with a perma-smile. But me? Not so much. On a daily basis, someone who doesn’t know me will undoubtedly ask, “Are you okay, Laila? Is something wrong?” Even when I’m feeling light as a feather and happy as a clam.
Aloha sips her drink. “No, actually, you were an easy sell, Laila. I told them you’re the perfect combination of sassy and sweet. The kind of person who’ll give the sweetest encouragement to the contestants while doling out unparalleled death glares to Hugh, whenever he acts like a jackass blowhard during the all-cast round table. Which, of course, he will. And, voila, the producers were sold.”
I giggle and raise my glass. “To aud-sassity!” It’s what Aloha and I have coined our special brand of badassery. Audacious sassiness. And Aloha and Daria clink my glass and whoop, just as the host of the party, Reed Rivers, walks up.
“Wow, looks like I’ve found the epicenter of the party,” he says. He greets everyone, and we quickly tell him the reason for our toast. Of course, Reed congratulates me on the amazing news and we chat about it for a bit. But when Aloha’s darling husband, Zander, the sweetest guy in the world, appears, Aloha excuses herself to meet some friends outside. And just like that, I’m alone with Daria and Reed, two of the biggest power brokers in the music industry, and neither of them is telling me to “scram, kid.” Seriously, how did I get here?