Halfway Perfect (8 page)

The van stops, and I tuck my phone away before climbing out. It feels special to be one of only a few people to know Alex's secret. That's probably why he texted me. Who else besides Elana is he going to be able to vent to?

October 10, 7:30 a.m.

“I really need a job.”

Eve is sitting on the floor beside the makeup area, fiddling with her camera while Hugo works on getting me ready for today's shoot.

“Aren't you working right now?” I ask Eve.

“A paying job,” she says. “My phone bill is due, and I don't want to have to cancel my data plan. I'm way too dependent on it.”

One of the interns is sitting on Eve's other side, and Finley is beside the intern. She's probably talking to them and not Hugo and me. I've got to learn to butt out and not act like I'm always listening to everything Eve Nowakowski has to say. Even if I am.

“I hear Sears is casting for their spring catalog right now,” Hugo says.

Eve looks at him like he's gone completely mad. I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. But at least I'm not the only one eavesdropping.

“Don't knock Sears,” Finley says, flipping through a magazine. “I've booked a ton of jobs with them, and the money does add up.”

“Not a modeling job,” Eve says to Hugo. “A normal college student job.”

“I've been babysitting my professor's kids,” the intern girl says to Eve. “It works out well, because I don't have to commit to a schedule. It's whenever they need me, and the kids basically never come out of their rooms. I get all my studying done. It's about as cushy as it gets.”

“Clearly these kids are much older than my five-year-old brothers,” Finley says. “Or they're on heavy sedatives. I can hardly read a recipe when I'm watching them, let alone get any amount of studying done.”

Eve straightens up and pulls the camera from her eye. “I can babysit. Do you know any other professors seeking child care?”

The girl shakes her head and stands up. “I'll keep an eye open though.”

Eve looks disappointed. “Thanks.”

The camera is against her eye again. My gaze travels across the room to see what her current subject might be. Or in this case,
who
.

Elana is lying on her stomach on the floor, books open in front of her. She must be doing schoolwork. Guess no one is concerned about her academic level tipping people off that she's not eighteen?

Hugo has just finished with me, so I walk quietly behind Eve, squatting down to see her pictures. She takes a whole bunch of shots of Elana's hand—the one holding the pencil—and then several more of her profile. With her hair falling forward, you'd never know it was Elana in those pictures.

“You're gonna get in trouble again,” I whisper and Eve jumps.

She glances over her shoulder at me and sighs with relief. “No, I won't. I'm supposed to be taking pictures.”

“Yeah,” I say. “For Calvin Klein.”

Eve flashes me a huge fake grin. “Fine, I'll stop. I know you have to look out for your girlfriend. So nice of you.”

She walks away from me, camera around her neck, and goes right over to Elana, sitting down beside her. Elana springs up, shutting her book, obviously excited to have Eve chatting with her. I had planned to grab a book from my bag and sit near them, pretending not to listen, but before I can do that, Eve points to Elana's schoolwork and starts speaking to her in French. Like really fast French. Accent and all. I can pick up a few words of French, but this conversation is totally lost on me.

I stare at them, my mouth half-open, watching and hearing their words bounce back and forth. Elana looks very comfortable talking to Eve.

“Are you eavesdropping or does it all sound like gibberish to you too?”

Finley is standing beside me now, watching the same two girls that I'm watching. “Complete gibberish. They're probably going to talk about us in French all week.”

Finley laughs. “They might talk about
you
, but I'm usually out of the gossip circle. In fact, I like to remove any trace of rumors and personal information about anyone work-related from my mind.”

I turn to her and roll my eyes. “That's so not possible.”

“It's mostly possible. But you have to really not care and really not want to know details. Ignorance is bliss.” She bounces off to set, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. Does she know Elana's real age? If she does, it sounds like she's denying it. She doesn't want the responsibility of knowing. Especially if Finley's going to be rooming with her soon.

Someone slings an arm around my shoulders and steers me in the other direction. I turn and look at Wes who has appeared out of nowhere. “Hey…what are you doing here?”

He drops his arm from my shoulders and nods toward the RV to our right. We step inside and Wes shuts the door. “I just got off the phone with a top designer, can't say who yet, but I've snagged an invite for you and your girlfriend to her party tonight. There're a few important people who would love to see the golden couple, maybe get a few pictures.”

I sit down on the table and rub my eyes. “Have you checked with my girlfriend's nanny yet?” I'm being a prick. I know I am. But I can't help it.

Wes folds his arms across his chest. “Have I ever steered you wrong? You've done nothing but move up since we've been working together, and I need you to give me a little bit of credit.”

I let out a breath, feeling guilty. “Right. Okay, okay. I'll be perfect tonight. Don't worry.”

“That's what I like to hear,” Wes says. “I'll have some clothes sent to your apartment and a car at eight. The driver can pick up Elana after so the pair of you can arrive and leave together. An hour or so should be good enough.”

There's a knock on the door, preventing me from responding. We both watch it open just a little and then Eve pokes her head in. “I'm supposed to tell you that Russ needs you ninety seconds ago.”

I grab the doorknob and open it the rest of the way, not even thinking about what I'm doing. Eve gets one look at Wes, and her entire body goes completely rigid. Her eyes are wide, and I can tell she had no idea he was here.

Elana is standing behind Eve. She says something in French and Eve turns around and answers her in French. I've already been given an out from this awkward moment, so I grab Elana's hand and tug her away from the RV. “I think Russ needs us.”

When I glance over my shoulder, Eve is still standing in the doorway.

“Hi, Evie,” Wes says.

When the hell did he get here, and why did Russ have to send me to fetch Alex? “Hi,” I manage to say.

Wes walks closer and leans against the door frame right across from me. “How's the shoot going so far? Do you miss being the star yet?”

I ignore the first question because he probably has a better answer to that than I do and jump to the second question. “Does it really matter if I miss it?”

He shrugs, eyes locked on mine. I really wish he would stop with the direct eye contact thing. It's so intense.

“Thought you might miss it, that's all,” he says.

My heart is like a wild animal. I think it wants to run away as bad as the rest of me does. “Not really.”

Why did he have to pick right now to decide to detach his eyeballs from his BlackBerry?

“I find that hard to believe.” Something on the set drops or gets banged and it makes a loud clank. Wes keeps staring at me anyway, his attention not wavering for even a second. “I've made a few calls. It's not over for you if you don't want it to be.”

My voice surfaces and somehow comes out even. “Yeah, I've heard Sears is casting. I'm jumping right on that one.”

“Better than hiding out in Indiana,” he says. “Better than hiding behind the camera.”

“I
like
being behind the camera.”

“Have you had lunch yet?” Wes asks. “Let's go out somewhere. Catch up.”

Is he insane? Seriously. “I'm working.”

He smiles at me in that way that used to turn me into girl-with-a-huge-crush mode. “I think I have enough pull to excuse you for an hour.”

“Yeah, that'll go over real well, Wes,” I snap. “I'm already dealing with all kinds of shit from everyone. Russ keeps telling me he's so glad my recovery went well. I don't need to add fuel to the fire by walking out the door with you.”

“And whose fault is that? Who taught you to be a professional only to have you leave Gucci on the first day of shooting?” He sighs and shakes his head. “You've made your own reputation.”

I spin around, turning my back on him. “I shouldn't even be having this conversation here with you.”

I make it about three steps before he grasps my arm, turning me around. “Where then, Evie? Where can we have this conversation? Come over to my place later.”

He actually looks sincere, and I can't help but think for a split second that this isn't wrong anymore. It's not illegal. I'm an adult and so is he. We don't have a business relationship anymore. I've grown up and I might not piss him off and frustrate him as much as my younger self did.

He must have seen the potential for concession on my face because he steps closer and his hand slides up my arm. “All I want is to give you the same chance you had before everything got screwed up. Five years ago, you were Elana, and I don't think your time is up yet. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Turning him down this time is a little easier than I thought it would be. I'm not sure why, but I don't feel as small as I did last week. “I already told you, Wes, I'm okay. Just let it go. I have.”

There's a hint of that old storm in his eyes. It could easily be mistaken for passion. He grips my arm tighter.

“Eve?” Janessa says, appearing on the step of the RV.

Oh God.

Wes releases my arm and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “It was good to see you again, Evie. I'm glad you're doing well. Let me know if you change your mind about those calls I mentioned making earlier.”

He gives Janessa a quick nod and then he's gone. I turn to face my new boss. She lifts her hands up, like she's completely exasperated.

“I'm trying to help you here, Eve, but whatever that was”—she points in the direction Wes exited from—“it's not helping everyone see you as my assistant and not a new rumor to spread.”

“I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise.”

She stares at me for a long moment and then says, “Good.”

• • •

October 10, 6:30 p.m.

“So what was Janessa like the rest of the day? Did she seem pissed off?” Steph asks while we're in the dining hall trying to make something healthy out of dorm food.

“No, she was totally normal, like it didn't even happen,” I say with a sigh. I've been pushing food around my plate for thirty minutes and haven't taken more than two bites. An old habit already reemerging at the first sign of stress.

“Do you think he'll keep showing up the rest of the week?” Steph asks.

“If he does, I'll deal with it. Today was better than the first time and maybe tomorrow, if it happens, it'll be even easier.”

“You're not thinking of letting him help you model again, are you?”

I shake my head. “I think it's a lot more complicated than Wes is letting on. He doesn't even rep girls anymore.”

“Promise me you won't let yourself end up alone with him again?” Steph says. “I'm seriously worried about that guy.”

“I promise.” I stare at my salad and rice and draw in a deep breath before shoving in a few bites, swallowing, but hardly chewing. “Just three more days. Three more days.”

“Assuming you survive the week, Friday we are going to celebrate at the frat house again—” I groan and she narrows her eyes at me. I've been to a few frat parties with Steph already and was completely unimpressed. “This party is going to be much better than the last, I promise. It's that annual live music for charity ordeal.”

I perk up a little. “I've heard of this and it did sound pretty awesome.”

Steph folds her hands over the table and stares at me. “I think you need to have some new experiences, meet some new guys. Promise me, when you finish on Friday, we'll go to that party, get crazy drunk,
and
find you a random guy to hook up with.”

I shake my head. “I'm not going to hook up with someone I meet on Friday. That's so not me. Maybe I'll give a guy my number or have an intelligent, mutually enjoyable conversation.”
Like
the
ones
I
have
with
Alex
. I think it, but I try not to let myself absorb it. Although, the twenty-minute discussion we had this afternoon on superpowers gained via radioactive spills versus radioactive spiders was far from intelligent and far from relevant to anything we were doing. But it beats some frat boy going on about losing an intramural football game and not caring if I ever got in a word in.

“Fine,” she concedes. “One kiss. Just find one guy to kiss and consider it symbolic for you turning over a new leaf, deal?”

“Deal,” I say after a long pause. It's a reasonable compromise and might even be fun. And if I have a few more days like today, I'll welcome the getting drunk part on Friday.

My phone goes off, vibrating against the whole table. Steph leans in and reads it. “Calvin Klein? You don't actually know—”

“Seriously? Um, no, I don't.” I snatch the phone off the table and laugh at her. My heart flutters a little before I answer it. “Hey…what's up?”

“I have a question for you,” Alex says, like it's so normal for him to be calling me.

“Aren't you supposed to be at a party with your costar?” Thank God for that party, because it created some afternoon gossip during the shoot today that distracted everyone from me and my Wes drama.

Steph has already pushed her tray aside, leaning on her elbows to listen in. I'm starting to realize more and more every day that my roommate is a complete straight shooter; she doesn't hide anything. We're even more opposite than I realized.

“The party's not until later,” Alex says. “And you're not supposed to answer a question with a question.”

“Okay, what's
your
question?”

“How do you feel about dog walking?”

Um, what?
“Personally or in general?”

“Personally,” he says. “The reason I'm asking is, I know this guy and he lives near Columbia and needs someone to walk his dog a couple of times a week and you said you needed a job.”

This isn't even close to what I'd expected him to say, so it takes me several seconds to catch on and Alex eventually prompts me again. “Eve?”

“Yeah, dogs. Love dogs. I want to have a hundred someday.”

Alex laughs. “I don't really care if you like dogs, so no need to impress me. Do you want the job?”

“Yes, totally.”

“Okay then, I'll pass your email along to my…
friend
,” Alex says.

“Who is this guy?” I ask, though I really don't care. A job is a job and I need one. Badly.

“Oh, you know, just another rich kid on the Upper West Side living on Mom and Dad's money. He dabbled with designing. I walked in his show a few months ago, not my proudest moment. Hopefully the fact that I'm helping you out will be enough to put a stop to any inquiries.”

And yeah, I'm curious but I'd never seek out the evidence because it just feels like an unspoken agreement between the two of us ever since Alex said that he never believes that tabloid shit. “My lips are sealed.”

“Cool,” he says. “John will email you soon. He's a little strange and mildly obsessed with me, so consider yourself warned.”

“Isn't everyone obsessed with you?”

Steph's mouth opens like she wants to say something, but she doesn't.

“If only that were true,” Alex laughs. “Then I wouldn't have to work, and I'd be off climbing Everest.”

“Why would you be climbing Everest?” The words are out of my mouth before I remember him saying something about the indoor climbing wall and how he wants to try something outside soon.

“No reason,” he says quickly. “I just mean, I'd be doing whatever I wanted.”

“Okay, well, I'll be sure not to tell John that I'm, in fact, your number one fan.”

“A catfight would break out, and you'd be back to your financial crisis.”

I laugh. “Thanks, Alex. I really appreciate this.”

“No problem,” he says. “I have one more question. What were you and Elana talking about today? That was way too much French for me to follow.”

I glance at Stephanie and decide to hold off on that talk. “Um, I'll text you later with that information, okay?”

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Eve.”

I hang up and Steph returns to eating her dinner, but only for a minute before she starts drilling me.

“So, Alex…the guy you supposedly only gave your number to so he'd join your 5K team,” she teases. “Have you been running together and I missed it?”

I shrug. “He's nice. That's all.”

Except I'm not 100 percent sure that's true.