This may have been a hastily considered mistake.
I held my now empty plate aloft. “I’m going to check out some more food.”
“Sounds good.” He waved to Una across the room and headed over to talk to her. She, too, was holding a plate full of veggies, so they’d probably have a lot to discuss.
Gerald hovered near the door of the kitchen, barking orders at the wait staff. I made my way over to him. “Hi, Gerald.”
“Dani, hi.” He caught the attention of a passing server and pointed her in the direction of a buffet table. “Those cookies need to be consolidated.”
“How’s it going?” I asked.
He rubbed his temples. “A nightmare,” he said. “I had to bring in food from some of the restaurants in town, so I’ve been dealing with a dozen finnicky chefs, instead of just one.” He paused. “How’s the food for the premiere coming?”
“Well,” I said, “we’re in good shape for tomorrow.” After my fight with Matt, I went back this morning to pick up all of the ingredients and equipment I needed. Instead of cooking in Matt’s huge kitchen with all the counter space and the double oven, I was making do in my mom and dad’s tiny one.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Have you given any more thought to featuring M.C. Bradford in your pics of the party tomorrow?”
Well, that would actually be impossible now. Matt wasn’t going to the party. He’d gotten what he wanted, and I had to disappoint Gerald. “It’s definitely a no-go,” I said. “I won’t even ask him.” Even though I knew Gerald was right, that getting Matt on my account would be a huge boon for me, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t betray him after all we’d been through.
That said, not everyone had the same hang-ups that Matt did. Other people were able to balance their fame and their privacy without letting it get the best of them. “I’d be willing to talk to the other people at the party, though. I think some of the actors will be there, and the showrunners definitely will be…”
“Great.” Gerald beamed. “Who needs M.C. Bradford?”
I lifted my glass to him. “Who indeed?” I took a sip of my champagne and glanced around the room. Jane had just come in with some friends. She spotted me and immediately made a beeline my way.
“Dani,” she said, “I’m glad you’re here. How are you?”
I responded by downing the rest of my champagne.
“I don’t know what happened last night,” she said. “But I’m sure whatever it was, you and Mr. Bradford can move past it.”
I could not envision myself “moving past” him breaking up with me before shoving a wad of cash into my hands like it was payment for services rendered.
Jane sighed. “For the past few months, he’d been trying and failing to write—he’d been overthinking things. And then you came along, and honestly, I did worry at first you’d be yet another roadblock.” She bit her lip. “But I think, oddly, you were the inspiration he needed. When you were around, he started working more efficiently and writing better—I read the manuscript he turned in, and it was some of his best work.”
“Jane,” I said, “what do you need?”
“I need you to talk to him.”
I started to walk away.
“Wait.” She gently touched my arm for a split second before pulling her hand back like she’d been burned. “He’s about to make a huge career blunder, and I think you’re the only one who can talk any sense into him. You’re kind of his muse.”
Flushing, I rolled my eyes. Muse. That was some fanciful bologna. Muses didn’t exist. “He called me a distraction and told me not to come back.”
“He didn’t mean it,” she said.
“Oh, he seemed pretty certain.” I’d been playing that scene in my head since last night. His career trumped everything else in his life, and my presence stood in the way of that. Our relationship was always going to end, and he simply pulled the plug on it a little early. “I’m not going to be the chump who sticks her nose where she’s obviously not wanted.”
Jane, always the consummate professional, straightened up, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll deal with it.” She looked right at me, eyes hard and resolved. “At least you’re making the food for the party tomorrow, right? That has to go well for him. He’s already throwing away his career by selling out his book. I can’t have him screwing up with his party guests, too.”
A massive winged bird, maybe a vulture, took flight in my stomach. “Jane, I have to tell you something.”
“He fired you from the premiere, too, didn’t he?” She muttered, “That probably never even occurred to him when he sent you away.” She shook her head, eyebrows raised. She was talking to herself now. “Because why would he? I have to think of everything.”
“No, no,” I said. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?” Her eyes sparkled with tears. Jane was about to lose it. I’d never seen her look so vulnerable. Heck, I’d never seen Jane look anything other than utterly put-together and on top of things.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her about his new plan to ditch the party. She had enough on her plate. Hopefully, he’d come to his senses on his own. “I think…” I said, searching for some other problem. “I think we may have to rethink the beef tenderloin sandwiches. I’m not sure I’ll have enough meat.”
Jane let out a sigh. “That’s fine. Make whatever you can make. People will deal.” She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “I’ve been planning this event for months, ever since that godforsaken video.” She shook her head, the tears threatening to spill over. “First his publicist said, ‘Let’s do a little dinner in Indianapolis.’ I was, like, ‘Great.’ But then Matt decided to rent this house, and his publicist found out about it. She said, ‘This is superb! Let’s get everyone to come to Wackernagel; we can make it a combo holiday/premiere party,’ so I’ve been working like a busy little ant since October to convince the actors and as many studio people as I could to travel here, to this tiny, godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere to hang out in Mr. Bradford’s rental house right before Christmas.” Her eyes bugged out. “Do you even know how difficult it is to get people here, I mean, logistically?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to interrupt her flow.
“I mean, first you have to convince them, and then you have to physically get them here.” I seriously thought her eyes were going to pop out of her skull and land on the floor. “I have people flying into Chicago and Des Moines today and then luxury buses transporting them here to the resort and to the various houses where they’ll be staying for the next few nights. I had to come up with gift baskets and itineraries.” She paused to take a breath. “Meanwhile, he’s back at the house writing the worst drivel of his professional life—”