I laugh, shaking my head, knowing full well who those journalists were. “Everyone was whispering when the red carpet list came out.”
“I can imagine so,” he says, cutting into a piece of breakfast sausage. “It’s a smack in the face. She knows it, you know it, and now, everyone else knows it.”
“I just . . .” I want to tell him that I didn’t mean for it to be like that, but I stop talking when Cassie returns.
“It took seven people to understand that I wanted wheat bread and not white,” she complains. I remain quiet while everyone around me eats, and then I’m summoned to go take a picture in the corner right in front of the big movie poster. I walk over to it with Cassie by my side. “This should last about two hours, give or take, and then you’re off till about three-ish, but we’ll need to go over your schedule for tomorrow.” I just nod at her and then shake the photographer’s hand.
“I’m Henrik, nice to meet you,” says the man with a camera hanging from his neck. “If you want to get right there on the white X in the front of the pictures, I will start.” I walk over to the middle and stand there while he takes my picture. I look over and see that Cassie is now speaking to Yamina and Yolanda.
“We are going to take a group shot,” Henrik says, and then he turns to look at Yamina and Yolanda. The two of them turn and start ushering the journalists toward me. The men wait for the women to walk ahead of them. I see Erin, Ella, and Evelyn come in first and two of them stand beside me, followed by Autumn and Kendall. I’m waiting for Jessica, but I don’t see her. I see Jim, Jonathan, Jack, and Peter come in and stand on the outside. Henrik comes over and starts moving people, pulling Ella, who glares at him, from my right and replacing her with Jack. He counts the heads and then turns to look at the girls. “There is one missing.”
“We are looking for her,” Yolanda says as Yamina turns around and walks quickly out of the conference hall.
“We can get one without her,” Cassie says to Yolanda. “We are on a schedule, right? Tyler isn’t going to be left waiting because one of the journalists is pouting.”
I look at Jack, who stands next to me, and he rolls his eyes. “She must either be really good at her job, or she gives you something on the side because, let me tell you, she’s a grade A bitch.” I laugh at him and look at Yolanda, whose phone starts ringing. She turns around, and then I see that Yamina is coming back into the room with Jessica next to her as she smiles at her.
“Sorry, folks,” she says, coming toward us. “I got a call.”
“Ah-ha, my beautiful Jessica,” Henrik says, going to her and kissing her on the cheeks. “So lovely to see you again.” He brings her over to us, holding her hand.
“I’m so sorry for keeping everyone waiting,” she says, looking at Henrik. “Where do you want me?”
He comes to us and moves Evelyn away from my other side, then gestures for Jessica to take that spot. He then moves Evelyn again, placing Jonathan next to Jessica. “Hey, good looking,” he says, winking at her. When I clear my throat, only Jonathan looks over at me.
“There we go,” Henrik says, holding up his hands and doing an L with his thumb and his forefinger. “I like it.” He moves back, bringing his camera to his eye. He starts taking pictures as we all hear the clicking. “Okay, what now?” he asks, looking toward Yamina and Yolanda.
“We have to take one-on-one shots for the junket and also the red carpet promo,” Yamina says and then looks down.
“Perfect,” Henrik says. “Who is first?” Everyone tries not to say anything, knowing that Jessica has been left out.
“I’m out,” Jessica says from beside me and then walks away. “See everyone tomorrow,” she says, turning to Jonathan. “Text me later and we will catch a bite.”
“We need the picture,” I tell Jessica, grabbing her hand before she walks away. She quickly pulls her arm away from me and finally looks at me. Then she looks at Yamina and Yolanda.
“Do we need a picture?” Jessica ignores me and my request, turning to ask Yamina and Yolanda. They look from one to the other, not sure what to say.
“Henrik.” I turn to him. “A picture with each journalist,” I tell him, and he just nods his head.
“Tyler,” Cassie says from beside them, “this is just wasting everyone’s time.”
“Then everyone needs to get in place,” I say, grabbing Jessica’s hand and pulling her to my side. Her soft hand flies away from mine, making me put my hand around her waist. Henrik starts talking before Jessica can fly away.
“Perfect,” he says. “Jessica, can you turn more toward him and maybe put your hand in your pocket?” She does as he says, and he starts snapping pictures.
“Jess,” I whisper to her, “I didn’t think they would.” She looks at me, her eyes clear with anger or sadness, I’m not sure, and Henrik snaps the last picture.
“We are done,” Henrik says, and she puts her head down and then walks away without saying a word. Ella is the next one, and she quickly makes her way over to me. I don’t have a chance to catch Jessica again. It’s another two hours before I’m finally making my way to my room.
“Tell Ryan that Jessica can have Paris,” I tell Cassie once we make it back into my suite. I look at her, and she crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me.
“Perhaps, I should point out all the times she tried to fuck you over?” she says. “The time she said you were in rehab, or the time she said you were fucking your co-star.”
“That one wasn’t exactly a lie,” I tell her, and she rolls her eyes.
“She made your mother cry twice.” She plays my mother card.
“I’m going to talk to her, one-on-one,” I tell Cassie, and she looks at me with her mouth open. “Call a truce of sorts. I mean, at least until we finish the tour.”
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll set up the meeting.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. Taking off my jacket, I toss it on the chair. “I’ll handle it. You two don’t exactly get along.”
“Because she’s a bitch,” she tells me, putting her hands on her hips. “Just remember that I told you so when she turns around and fucks you over.”
Chapter Eight
Jessica
Looks like this Hollywood power couple is headed to splitsville; sources close to both say it’s only going to get nasty!
“How did you know?” Jonathan asks from across the table. We are sitting in the bar area of the hotel. His dress shirt is rolled up at the sleeves to his elbow. Two buttons open at his neck as he peels the label from his beer.
I bring my glass of water to my lips and take a drink. It’s almost nine p.m. local time, and I feel like I’m wired. I’m tired, but after tossing and turning for two hours, I finally gave in and answered a text Jonathan had sent at six asking me to meet them at the hotel bar. So I threw on my favorite pair of torn jeans and matched it with a huge light gray V-neck long-sleeved knitted sweater. “You know you have to be a little bit more specific with that question, right?” I smile at him.