Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
I scoot a few feet closer. Very begrudgingly. TJ does the same.
He motions for us to scooch closer. “Just a little closer. I like my lovebirds nice and cozy. Snuggly. All cute and cuddly,” he says.
But I don’t move. Nor does TJ.
“We’re close enough right now,” TJ says, underlining his words.
Slade stares at us like he’s starting to put two and two together—we don’t want to be here. “I can see you’re both tense, but no worries. I’ve got a bag of tricks, and I’m getting the sense we might need to do some ice breakers before we tackle the deets of your backstory.”
I groan. “I don’t think so.”
TJ seconds it. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Oh, but it’s a prerequisite. This isn’t an optional class you’re attending. This is a required course. And the first assignment is two truths and a lie.”
Does he think we’re adolescents? “Seriously? You want us to play that game?”
Slade doesn’t appear to be joking. “It’s a great getting-to-know-you exercise, and by the time we’re done, you’re going to know each other so damn well that no reporter can trip you up and no photo can make anyone doubt you two.” He rubs his hands together. “All right, let’s—”
“—I’ll go first,” TJ says.
“A go-getter. I like it,” Slade praises then gives a little clap of approval for the writer. “Gimme your three statements and make one of them a big old fib.”
TJ nods dutifully. “Two truths and a lie for you. Here goes. Carbs are fantastic. Yellow is my favorite color.” He stops to sigh contentedly. “That guy is a friend.”
TJ’s favorite food is pizza, and I know he hates yellow. But what guy is he talking about? Who is just a friend? A knot of jealousy twists inside me, along with confusion. “Are you sure you’re playing the game right?” I ask.
“Oh, I thought I was supposed to prove how well I know you by giving your two truths and a lie.”
I parse that out while TJ smirks at me innocently. I love carbs and bright colors, so the lie is . . . Motherfucker.
I seethe. He barely deserves to know the truth. I don’t want to tell him what went down when I was in Los Angeles a few weeks ago for work. While there, I spent time with a friend and a great one at that. TJ should fucking know. William’s been struggling with fame, dealing with it through the bottle. I visited the rocker at his home one night and encouraged him to get help. Paps took a pic. A few nights later, William called me in a state of drunken despair from the Luxe Hotel, having demolished the goods in the minibar and then the bar itself. I came to get him, and he was hanging on to me as I ferried him out of the hotel, paying the bill too. Telling him again to consider rehab.
He planted a thank you kiss on my cheek but a little too close to my mouth. The camera caught that, and it looked like we were into it from the angle. But William is fucking affectionate and always has been. Hell, he kissed both TJ and me on our cheeks when we were with him a year ago.
But I doubt TJ would believe me. Holly hardly believes me.
Tossing my head back, I laugh like TJ’s the life of the party. “That was a valiant effort. But I have lots of friends. Lots of true friends. And I find true friends understand and support you. They also . . . listen,” I say.
TJ taps his temple. “Ah, listening. Thank you for reminding me how vital that skill is. Did you take a class in it over the last ten months?”
Slade sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles. “You do know we need to convince the public you dig each other. Trouble is, right now, you’re like a couple of giraffes trying to perform in an ice-dancing competition while riding a Zamboni.”
TJ’s eyes pop. “Nice analogy.”
Those words tickle my brain. Where have I heard them? “Is that from Mister Benefits?”
“You know it,” Slade says, pleased I got the reference. “Hudson used that analogy in that story. And my point is, whatever this is that’s going on,” he says, pointing from TJ to me. “That shit needs to stop when you’re in public. You feel me?”
TJ sighs heavily. “I do.”
Slade stares pointedly at me. “And you, Jude?”
Inside, I feel like an adolescent, but outside I take the warning like a champ. “Yes. I’ll do better.”
“Cool, cool. Let’s start over.”
“Just tell us what you want us to do.” TJ sounds like he wants to run out of here and get far, far away from me. “I don’t think we need ice breakers. Give us our lines and we’ll just do it.”