Halfway Perfect (25 page)

“They
had
a bunch of debt,” Brad clarifies. “Before Jared stepped in and started doing all Dad's books and snagging him a few bigger commercial contracts.”

“Jared did that?” I lean on the railing beside Brad, watching the trees move in front of me as a result of my beer buzz.

Brad glances over his shoulder and then lowers his voice. “If you ever tell Mom or Dad this, I'll come to New York and kick your ass.”

“Tell them what?” What could Jared possibly be hiding from my parents that's big enough to get Brad this worked up? Does he have a criminal record or several illegitimate children in other counties?

He lets out a breath, giving one more glance over his shoulder. “Jared never hurt his knee. He didn't even want to quit school. But he only had a partial scholarship, and when he heard Dad was on the verge of losing his business and filing for bankruptcy—”

“How is that possible?” I interrupt. “How could I not have known all this?”

Brad shakes his head. “How could
you
not have known? What about me? I didn't know until last spring, and I was an adult in college two years ago. They should have at least told me, maybe you, but at least me.”

“So Jared dropped out to save them money?”

“That and he figured if he worked full time for Dad without pay, he'd help cut down on staff expense.” Brad stops for a minute, drinking more beer. “Turns out he's pretty good at the business stuff. He started working sixteen-hour days, taking over the accounting, letting more employees go, getting Dad twice as many contracts. And you know Dad, how good he is with people once he's got the contract. He doesn't go home until it's perfect. Dad always did okay on his own before the recession, but Jared and Dad…I wouldn't be surprised if they start making some good money soon.”

“Wow, I had no idea.” I don't know what else to say.

“That's because you were a kid. You didn't need to know,” Brad says. “I'm pissed as hell they didn't tell me and let me drop out of school. It's not like I had a football scholarship like Jared, not like I was going to college for any reason other than avoiding the grown-up world.”

Both of us shut up when the sliding door opens, and Jared emerges and leans against the rail beside me, offering me yet another drink. Yes, I'm getting trashed tonight.

“Little Davie's still got his hands in his pockets,” Jared reports.

Brad nods his approval. “Smart boy.”

“And I checked both their cups. They're drinking root beer,” Jared adds.

I polish off my current drink and move on to the next one, waiting a second before blurting out, “Elana's only fourteen. Wait, she's fifteen now. She just turned fifteen.”

My hands are wrapped around the red Solo cup and my eyes are focused on the liquid sloshing around inside, but I can feel their stares.

“Everything I read said she's eighteen,” Brad says.

“Well, that's a lie.”

“No way.” Brad's staring like he's waiting for the punch line. “You're serious?”

“That's illegal,” Jared says. “You could get arrested.”

“Not true.” Brad swings his legs around and leaps down from the railing, leaning beside me rather than sitting on the edge. “The age of consent law in New York states that if there's less than a five-year gap and the minor consents to the sexual act, you'd have an affirmative defense.”

I groan. “There's no sexual act—”

“How the hell do you know that?” Jared asks Brad.

“I'm sort of studying for the LSATs,” Brad says. “I know I never declared a major, and the
Guide
to
Taking
The
LSATs
book is bigger than anything I've ever read in my life, but I took two criminal justice classes this semester, and I really liked them.”

“Good for you, man.” Jared gives Brad a fist bump. “Sounds like we could use a lawyer in the family with our little brother running around hooking up with foreign underage girls.”

“I'm not hooking up with her!” It feels so good to say the truth out loud. “It's just a stupid marketing scheme my agent came up with to pitch us as a couple to Calvin Klein. The relationship is completely fake.”

“But you've kissed her. I've seen pictures,” Brad points out. “And she's been topless and on top of you.”

“Yeah, for the cameras, for work.” I let out a frustrated groan. It's so hard to compete against these tabloid stories and ads that look so real. “And she's French. Topless is not a big deal to Elana. Trust me.”

“Seriously, Alex, it's kind of lame, isn't it?” Jared says. “How much could this relationship be worth?”

“So far,” I say, “about a half a million, and there's a lot more to come depending on how long the fragrance campaign lasts and what we're offered next. I've heard rumors of a Gucci watch campaign.”

Brad lets out a low whistle. “Shit. Never mind. I'd fake it with a French teen for that kind of cash. How hard can it be?”

“You really want to know?” I look back and forth between them. “My role is very similar to what we're doing tonight, only worse, because it's just me keeping an eye on her and there're a lot bigger creeps in the fashion industry than at a high school party.”

“Wow,” Jared says.

I'm on a roll now, not able to stop myself. “And then there's Eve.”

“Eve Castle?” Brad asks.

“Yeah.” I rub my eyes, ridding them of the blurriness from too much beer. “It's my fault she even has to be Eve Castle again.”

• • •

December 24, 1:45 a.m.

“I think we should all fly to New York tomorrow and beat this Wes Danes's ass,” Brad says after I've finally finished telling them the entire story.

“Eve doesn't seem like the type to get back with him,” Jared says. “I bet all that is fake and now I'm doubting the validity of every notable relationship I've learned about from the Internet.”

“No kidding,” I add.

Brad suppresses a shudder. “I feel like a sick bastard for spending a good ten seconds staring at your fake girlfriend's picture.”

“That's exactly the attitude I've had,” I admit. “And it got me on Elana's bad side. She thinks I hate her. And we nearly got booted from our fragrance campaign because of a lack of chemistry.”

“Can't you just break up with her and tell everyone you're in love with Eve?” Brad suggests.

I never said I'm in love with Eve. Is it that obvious? “Not before Calvin Klein releases those pictures and pays me. They could still pull the job out from under us.”

Jared looks at me. “Then you man up, tell everyone the truth, and if that ruins your modeling career, you'll come home to your family—who are a lot more accepting than you think—and you'll figure out what the hell you want to do with your life, just like the rest of us.”

“Would you quit working with Dad for Leslie?” I ask him, challenging his advice.

“No, because he's my dad and he needs me,” Jared said without pause. “Would I have given up my football scholarship to keep Leslie's life from going to shit, like Eve's has? Yes, absolutely. Not only because I love her, but because that's the honorable thing to do.”

“But how does ditching Wes Danes and telling the world he's lied about Elana help Eve pay for school without modeling again and get her out of every tabloid?” Brad says. “How does it actually help anyone?”

“I don't know,” Jared says finally. “But if I were you, Alex, I'd look into what made her walk away from all these things you're not willing to give up. Especially if she didn't have our parents and our family to come home to. There's a piece missing from this story.”

“What do you mean there's a piece missing?” I ask.

“Think about it,” he offers. “A fifteen-year-old in a relationship with someone my age. She needed him. She needed an adult figure in her life. It's sick to think about, but I just don't see the motivation for her to give that up if it was all her decision and not his. You said she disappeared without telling him, right? She gave up a big-money job?”

I'm pretty trashed now, but I hear his words through the fog in my brain, and theories spin through my head. I have trouble thinking of Eve as younger. Since she told me on the phone that day I found out about her and Wes that it was her choice, that he didn't force her or manipulate her into anything, I haven't been able to get past the hurt and jealousy I'd felt in that moment. I haven't allowed myself to think about what motivations she might have had to get into that relationship in the first place. What motivation would any fifteen-year-old girl have in that situation? Wes is controlling in a way that offers a certain amount of security for someone like me and Eve. There's a lot of shit Wes takes care of that I never have to worry about. He makes sure I'm prepared for every casting and every job.

Jared pulls out his cell phone and glances at the time. “It's late. Let's collect our delinquent sister and get home.”

In nearly two hours of talking, Dave Mackler has managed to move closer to Katie but still has his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Amateur,” Brad snorts.

“Katherine Marie Evans,” Jared says. “Time to go home.”

Katie turns to us, looking us up and down. “Are you guys drunk?”

“Yes.” I steer her away from Dave, not giving her a chance to say good-bye or exchange phone numbers. She can do that at the next party. Like next December.

“I thought you were here to supervise me, not get trashed,” Katie says as we're heading down the street toward home.

“We're gifted,” Brad says. “We can do both.”

Katie swings her Prada bag in front of me, flashing me a smile. “Do I really get to keep this? It's amazing. But the money I could get selling it on eBay is enough to pay for wakeboarding camp next summer.”

“I'll tell you what.” I throw an arm around my sister, leaning on her a bit for balance. “You do my taxes this year, and I'll pay for wakeboarding camp.”

“Are you serious? I have to ask you again when you're not drunk, don't I?” She sighs but gives me another smile. “That was really nice of Elana to give me the bag, regardless. She seems pretty cool.”

“I bet you guys would have a lot in common,” Jared says, leaning on Brad and trying not to burst out laughing.

Brad snorts into the cup of beer he filled before leaving the party. “Yeah, like algebra.”

I kick Brad in the back of the leg to shut him up.

“Maybe Mom and Dad will let me come to New York soon and I can meet her,” Katie says.

“Maybe her nanny can arrange a playdate.” Brad is laughing hard now, and I'm left with no choice but to join him.

“So, Davie Mackler, huh?” I say to her.

“Dave, his name is Dave.”

“Don't worry, Katie. We know his name,” Jared says. “We've already interrogated his friends.”

Katie sighs again. “Why can't I be an only child?”

When we get back into the house, our note is untouched, Katie makes it upstairs without having to climb through the window, and Mom and Dad remain completely in the dark about their only daughter's first high school party.

I'm too keyed up to sleep once I'm alone in my bed again, which is why I find myself playing with my phone, staring at “Harvard's” number, until I finally, on impulse, hit call.

December 26, 1:20 a.m.

I'm pacing this empty agency apartment, biting my nails. I can't stop. I've been this way for a good hour. Ever since I got off the phone with Elana.

She had called me to ask how my Christmas was, and I could hear the shift in her voice from the last time we talked three weeks ago. She had been very standoffish that day and cut the conversation short. But not today. She was bubbly and excited. I tried to convince myself it's because she's home with her family, but then she said his name.

“
Jersey
Boys
was so good, Eve. Have you seen it?”

“No, I haven't,” I said. “When did you go?”

“Wes took me last week. Don't tell Alex. He's so weird about that stuff. Anyway, I can't wait to get back to New York now. I want to see every Broadway show one at a time.”

Despite the shock and growing weariness, I somehow managed to sputter a reply. “Wes took you to a Broadway show?”

“Yes, he's so much easier to talk to than Kara, especially about jobs,” Elana said. “And she's got so much going on. I feel like I'm just a check mark on her daily task list.”

At this point, my stomach had started twisting into knots. I should have seen this coming. I should have let myself guess it a long time ago and then stayed the hell out of Elana's life.

Now, I'm pacing and I'm stuck being the only person who's able to read between her words. I need to tell someone else, let it be their burden. Janessa, maybe? But after quitting a few days ago, I'm embarrassed to even run into her, let alone have a serious conversation. Besides, Janessa made it clear at Professor Larson's place on Thanksgiving that she did not want to be inside any circles of secrets.

And I have no proof that this is anything more than Elana crushing on Wes and Wes sucking up to her, taking her places so he can keep her happy and keep the Elana/Alex jobs flowing in.

I stop in front of the couch, staring at the blank TV screen. That's right, I have no proof. No one is going to believe my story from two years ago, which means they won't believe there's anything to worry about with Wes and Elana.

Then I'm off the hook, right?

My other question is what would Alex do if he knew what I know? And that message he left me the other day, I've listened to it so much I've memorized it,
“Hey Eve, sorry to call so late. I just…I just wanted to hear your voice. Call me back whenever. I'm in Nebraska visiting my family so I'm not busy or anything.”
He had paused for a good three seconds before adding, “
And
I
miss you.”

I had almost hung up without hearing that last part. He sounded so genuine. Just hearing his voice reminded me of how safe I'd felt with him.

I dive for my phone, which is lying on the coffee table, and pull up the voice mail to listen to it again and see if I can get my heart to stop pounding and my hands to stop sweating. But instead of listening to Alex's message, I see a text that he sent twenty minutes ago. My mind must have been elsewhere, because I never heard a sound from the phone.

CALVIN
KLEIN:
I interrogated an agency intern. I know you're staying in Elana's building, I don't know which apartment, but I'm sitting by her door on the eleventh
floor.

My heart starts pounding in a completely different way. He's back from Nebraska? Did he come back to see me? Why else would he leave on Christmas Day? And how did he find out where I'm staying? I'm sure Wes didn't tell any interns. I had lied to Alex and told him I'd be at Stephanie's aunt's place in New Jersey.

As I'm going through these questions in my mind, I'm already putting on my flip-flops and heading to the door even though I know I shouldn't. But I just spent Christmas alone and besides, he texted twenty minutes ago. He's probably gone by now.

I'm on the eleventh floor too. I'm surprised Alex couldn't figure that out. But there are a few agency apartments in this building. I only have to step out the door and turn the corner and I see him right away. He's sitting on the floor beside Elana's door with his back resting on the wall, his head hanging a little like maybe he's falling asleep.

I stop before I reach him, wanting to keep some distance between us. He lifts his head and locks eyes with me.

“You didn't call me back,” he says, as if that is enough to explain why he's not in Nebraska anymore and why he's here in this building at one thirty in the morning.

I open my mouth to respond, but the door beside Alex flies open and a blond-haired girl wearing glasses, flannel pajamas, and a very pissed-off expression stumbles out.

Finley Belton.

The only nice person from the
Seventeen
shoot. I feel a wave of panic. Elana's in France, and neither Alex or me have any reason to be in this building, considering no one is supposed to know about the key Wes gave me to the agency apartment.

I freeze in my spot. It's too late to hide. She stops in front of the door, her eyes going back and forth between the two of us, Alex on the floor and me standing in the hallway.

“Finley,” Alex says, looking up at her. “How's it going? We were just—”

She lifts a hand to stop him. “Save it. I don't want to know.” She turns to me. “Since you're secretly occupying Kylie and Preston's place, think you could water that plant in the kitchen? I was supposed to do it and I keep forgetting.”

“Um, sure,” I say, holding my breath. “No problem.”

“Am I the only one who's being driven crazy by those loud fucking guys upstairs?” she asks, but it seems rhetorical, so Alex and I both keep our lips sealed. “I swear they're trying to break furniture in half by jumping on it hard enough.”

She spins around and heads for the staircase in her PJs and bare feet. “Good to see you guys again, by the way,” she calls over her shoulder.

Alex looks up at me. “I had no idea she was here.”

Every defense I've been holding on to crumbles right at my feet. I can't convince the logical part of my brain that he shouldn't be near me or the other way around. Truth is, I know he's not Wes. He's in an entirely different universe than Wes.

I watch as he scrambles to his feet, his mouth opening and the words falling out quickly as if they'd been waiting to be used. “I just…I have some things I need to say in person, okay?”

“Not out here.” I nod down the hall and Alex follows me and then closes the apartment door behind us.

“Is anyone else here?” he asks.

I shake my head and give him a full thirty seconds to grow more nervous, but he doesn't. He looks really determined, but for what, I don't know. And I don't let him tell me because I'm thinking about that night in his apartment. I'm thinking about the shower and waking up with him the next morning. I close the space between us and press my mouth to his just as he opens it to speak.

He stiffens for a brief second, like I've startled him, and then he's pulling me into his arms, his fingers in my hair. And oh my God, kissing Alex is even better than I remember. There're weeks of intensity built into this kiss, and there's a resolve on Alex's end, one I can feel right away, and it scares me. He's come to some conclusion that's going to shift the world all over again and I don't know if I want to hear it. So I push those thoughts away and let myself escape.

After his coat falls to the floor, I reach for the bottom of his shirt, backing away from him briefly so I can tug it over his head and toss it toward the couch. His hands slide gently under the back of my shirt and I'm so caught up in the feel of it, I don't notice right away that he's stopped kissing me.

“Eve." His voice is somewhat strained as he tries to catch his breath. “We should…we should talk.”

I pull away and open my eyes, then rest my hands on his face. “I miss you too. I'm sorry I didn't call you back to tell you that. I listened to your message so many times.”

He stares at me for a long time, and I see it again something's changed since I ran into him at that casting. He doesn't look scared anymore. But I am.

I'm petrified of losing what little grip I have on my life at the moment. That doesn't change the fact that I really do miss him and he's right here in front of me. I drop my hands from his face and press my cheek against his chest, squeezing him around the middle.

Alex's arms are tight around me and he whispers into my hair, “If I had known you were by yourself, I would have stayed here.”

A few tears gather in the corners of my eyes, so I keep my face pressed against his skin and hidden. Maybe I'm not as unlucky as I thought.
Alex
misses
me.
Some people don't have anyone to miss them.

He lifts my chin so I'm forced to look at him and, oh my God, the second I see his face, I know he's going to say it. I'm starting to panic because this internal battle has taken shape inside my head. I desperately want to hear it, but I know I can't handle it. My hand is shaking when I lift it to cover his mouth.

“Don't. Please don't say it,” I whisper.

I expect him to look hurt. A guy like Alex Evans probably doesn't throw around the “L” word too often, but instead, his eyes get wide for a second, then he peels my hand from his mouth. And just like that, we're kissing again.

Kissing and moving closer to the couch and removing more clothes.

• • •

An hour later, we're sprawled out on the living room floor and I'm close to dozing off. The couch pillows are under our heads and the comforter from the bed I'm sleeping in is wrapped around us. Clothes are scattered all over the living room. It's a complete disaster, but I'm too comfortable and too exhausted to clean up right now.

Alex rolls on his side, leaning over me and brushing the hair off my face. “Eve?”

I fight to keep my eyes open but manage to focus on the swirling blur around his black pupils. “Yeah?”

“Do you trust me?”

The question jolts me awake. “Uh-oh.”

His forehead wrinkles and he leans in to kiss me quickly on the mouth. “You're already panicking. You don't trust me, do you?”

“It's not that—”

He gives me another kiss and shakes his head. “I understand if you don't. It's okay. I mean why would you? It's my fault we got caught together and that you can't work for Janessa.”

Elana must have spilled that piece of information. “But you didn't do it on purpose. It's not like you were trying to mess things up for me.”

“I know.” He closes his eyes briefly and then opens them again. “But that doesn't mean you aren't going to tread cautiously around me.”

“I tread cautiously around everyone, Alex.”

“I know that too. And I also know that there's nothing going on between you and Wes. I can't believe I even let my mind go there for a second. Even with the photos, I of all people should know better.”

My stomach twists into knots again. Just the mention of Wes makes me think of him and Elana and I should tell Alex. I really should tell him. But that means I'd have to own it. The whole responsibility of knowing something I don't want to know.

And then it occurs to me that I've done the same thing to Alex. I've told him about my scholarship, and now he knows that I've lost that opportunity and that I'm modeling again even though I don't really want to. I've dumped all my shit on him, and he's stuck with the responsibility of helping me, or at least feeling guilty about it.

I never wanted to make Alex feel stuck with me.

I sit up and pull the blanket up under my arms. “Listen, I've just gotten everything in my life to a manageable level, and I really can't rock the boat or be caught in another tabloid scandal—”

“I'm breaking up with Elana,” he blurts out, sitting up beside me.