The Accidental TV Star (17 page)

I grabbed a bowl and poured heavy cream and lemon juice into it. Next, I added cream cheese and used the whisk. The doorbell chimed, announcing another arrival.

Karla Quintos and her cameraman let themselves in. My eyes closed briefly and I spared a prayer for Garrett, the idiot.

Karla came straight to the bar and slid onto the seat. Her hair never moved. She could sell a ton of hairspray with that dark, glossy, weatherproof hair of hers.

“Hi, Karla, Garrett’s out back.” I adjusted the oven and placed two more layers on the oven rack. I set the timer and hoped she’d be gone when I turned around.

“Looks more like a party than an interview.”

“He wants to make it fun.”

“Uh huh.” Karla leaned forward, her manicured hands draped over the counter. It reminded me of the gator on the supply rack.

“You made it to
Scoop Out’s
grand finale,” Karla said. “Tell the camera how you feel about that.”

I took a drink of water to delay and compose a response and smiled at the camera. “I’m so excited to be a part of the finale. Meeting Sara Sims has been a dream come true. Now to take a recipe to the final show—I’m sincerely honored.” Boring but true.

Karla’s smile flickered and her gaze moved to my bandaged hand. “Care to expand on the crocodile incident. How’s the wound doing?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“How do you feel about Cal being kicked out of the competition before you when he’s arguably the better cook?”

He’s not a better cook. I’d say that blown sugar dessert had taken two days to create and he owed me a weekend of my life back. I’d say, one day when he opened his own restaurant, I’m bringing in a variety of live reptiles and letting them jump and scurry across his white tablecloths. “What can I say about Cal? Good for him for going for it. Did I want half a dozen alligators snapping at me? No. But, he put on a show and it could have worked out for him.”

I took another drink, thrilled that despite Garrett and my father shaking me up, I hadn’t devolved into a ranting whiner. I’d faked it for the camera. “Cal went out big and I wish him all the best.”

Karla held up a hand and motioned for the cameraman to stop filming. “I think we got it. Strong, solid studio policy-compliant answers.” She grinned big and shook a prescription bottle at me. Then she stared pointedly at my glass of water. “I’ll catch you at the end of the night, when your muscle relaxants have had a chance to kick in. Maybe when you’ve loosened up, you can give the show a more truthful answer.”

She’d put something in my drink.

Karla laughed at the expression on my face.

As if my body realized I’d been guzzling prescription muscle relaxers for the last fifteen minutes, a wave of tiredness swept over me.

Karla put the bottle into her purse. “I can’t believe Garrett would rather date a reality star than a journalist. No matter how telegenic you are.”

Karla Quintos was a jealous idiot. She thought I’d take this. I knew where she worked and I knew a guy who owned alligators. I’d come after her when she didn’t have a camera tracking my every move. I said nothing to her for now, but I didn’t let my gaze drop.

Karla got up and moved to the backdoor. Her cameraman followed her, a mute accomplice.

A group of guys stumbled in next. I didn’t recognize them, but from the number of people who’d come in, the crowd out back must be getting out of hand.

“You’re scrumptious,” one of the guys said.

I ignored him and snagged a paper off the bookshelf. I wrote a
Party’s Cancelled
sign and taped it outside the front door. Next, I turned off the front light and locked the door. The new arrivals had taken root on the couch. I stumbled when I turned and had to steady myself on the bar.

“Dog, she’s been going at it,” one of the strange guys said.

Stupid. Stupid. I had to get myself out of the situation. Ash would get me out. Think. Ash’s in London. Hannah. Kate. I hadn’t seen them. Garrett. I was mad at him, but in that moment I knew I trusted him. I walked to the sliding glass door.

The twenty steps felt like two hundred.

Outside, noise hit me at once. Rock music blasted from the speakers. Partiers clustered in groups talking. Garrett stood over by the barbeque pit with Sax, drinking something from a red cup. Sax must’ve shaken his bodyguards again, because half the time they took red cups from him. He had diligent parents.

I caught Garrett’s eyes. He grinned at me and waved. It seemed as if he were a mile away. I opened my mouth to call him over to me, to ask him to meet me halfway, or to warn him that Karla was here. The words didn’t come out. I stepped forward.

Weightlessness.

A rush of choking water washed over me. Wet. Warm. My feet carried me toward the bottom of the pool. I kicked for the surface, choking, trying to remember to move my arms and feet. Hard hands grabbed me.

Max. Garrett. They tugged me to the side of the pool and out.

“Thanks,” I tried to gasp out. Gagging on the water, I covered my mouth and fell into Garrett.

He wrapped his arms around me, his face white in the lights outside. He grabbed my arms and pushed me away from his body. “What are you doing?”

I sagged. I knew I had to get the words out. “Karla put a sedative in my drink.”

“Who? What are you talking about?” Garrett’s accent was heavy, but his words were un-embellished so I knew he was upset.

“Karla put something in my drink. A sleeping pill or muscle pill.”

Curses flew out of Garrett’s mouth. He scooped me into his arms and spoke to Max over his shoulder. “Kick everyone out.”

He carried me upstairs and into his room. I’d never been in his room, not here in California. It was done in grey, with pops of black. Must have been a decorator, because it didn’t look much like Garrett. He took me through into his bathroom and sat me on the counter. He handed me a towel and I held it in my hands on my lap. He leaned his forehead against mine. “God, I’m sorry, Marissa.”

“I’m okay.” My words came out normal, but my tongue felt thick.

“I’m calling a doctor.”

“No, don’t. She’ll tape it. Make it look bad somehow. I just need some dry clothes and a nap.”

Garrett left and I sat where he’d left me until he returned with a T-shirt and pair of sweats. He used the towel to blot my hair. “I’ll leave you to change. But if you’re not out in three minutes, I’m coming back.”

I forced my limbs to move. Drying off, I pulled on his clothes. They were huge and sagged on me. Leaving my wet clothes in a puddle on the floor, I tried not to think of what Dolores would say when she caught sight of that. I returned to Garrett’s room. He tucked me in and locked the door. Then he got on his phone. “I’m staying up here with Marissa. How’s it going down there?”

My eyelids weighed down and I fell asleep before I thought to ask Garrett about the interview and what Karla had asked him.

Chapter Eight

I awakened in Garrett’s bed.

The clock read two p.m. Afternoon light flickered through the gap in the curtains. Afternoon.
Scoop Out
would be done taping. I’d missed the finale.

I fell back against the pillows and tried not to think about how badly I’d messed up. No one got opportunities like this. No one. And I’d just blown mine. My heart pounded hard in my chest. I shoved back the covers and rose from the bed. My hair felt matted and wild under my hands. I could imagine what it looked like. I blew out a breath, used Garrett’s bathroom, and went downstairs, my hand at my waist to hold up the borrowed outfit.

Garrett sat on the couch. He looked at me with wary green eyes and turned the TV off. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad.” I headed to my room. I stopped in the kitchen on the way. The base of my cake had been dug into by hungry hands. The partiers. The smell of burnt cake hung in the air. I made sure the oven was off and peeked in at the blackened cakes. Ruined. I nodded, grabbed my phone, and went in my room.

I’d screwed everything up. Anything could have happened to me last night. I showered, changed, packed my bags, and called Ashley to see if I could stay at her parents’ place until I caught a flight home.

“Of course you can. What’s going on?”

I didn’t answer.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later. For now, can I just get the address? The code still your birthday?”

“Yeah, but Mom and Dad went back early. Please give me a minute. I’ll call Mom and she’ll come get you.”

“I’m fine, Ash. I can take the bus.”

“I mean it. Stay put.”

I sank onto my bed. “Okay.” I hung up and stared at my hands. I had to tell Garrett. My mom. I had to go home. Evan. My father. I could hear them now, though I didn’t want to. I had to get online and get a job for the fall.

Until now, I hadn’t realized how much I’d let myself dream of working in Sara Sims’s restaurant. It could have happened. It wasn’t going to happen now. Worse than losing, I’d screwed up my opportunity just like everyone from the trailer park would do. My people. I’d become the unreliable one.

I tied my wet hair up, left my stuff on the floor, and went out to the living room, this time wearing my own clothes: jeans and a well-worn Trallwyn High T-shirt.

Garrett sprang up. “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

“No thanks.” I dropped onto the couch and he sat back down. I stared at the fake logs in the fireplace. “I quit.”

“I don’t accept that, Marissa. I know last night was bad, but we can talk about it.”

I didn’t respond and he touched my arm. “Look at me.”

His compelling voice didn’t work this time. I said, “It’s not your fault. I was stupid. I had an opportunity and I blew it.”

“Karla did this.”

I shook my head. “Party. Unattended drink. I knew better. I can’t keep working here knowing every time I walk in your kitchen, I’ll see how I screwed up my shot. Just like the people at the trailer park where I’m from. Like I have some subconscious desire to fail.”

“This is Karla’s fault. And mine. Not yours.”

“I’m a grown woman. I know better than to go to a party the night before a big test. I should have called Kate or Hannah or even gone to Ashley’s.”

The bright sunlight in the room emphasized the lateness of the day. My chest tightened. “I haven’t heard from the studio. But the finale’s over by now.”

“You’re final two. They’ll wait for you. They’ll have to.” He spoke like a movie star. As if everyone got their chances. “I’ll call them.”

I shook my head again. “The director will redo the ending of the last episode and shoot with Cal.
Scoop Out’s
kind of flexible that way. And I can’t complain, that’s how I got my shot.”

I thought of the video on my phone with a flash of hope. I probably had a clear shot of Karla drugging me. Then I shook the feeling off. It wouldn’t matter. Even if the director believed the video, she wouldn’t re-do the shoot. Time and schedules were everything on a set. At this moment, it was Cal or Will who’d get the chance to work for Sara Sims. “I hope Cal wins.”

“I’ll clean the kitchen. I’ll cook. Whatever you need. Tonight, I’m all yours.”

“Thanks, Garrett. But I’m going to stay with Ash’s family. She’ll be back Monday, so I was probably going there anyway.”

“But you’re my cook.”

“You don’t need a cook.”

“I need you, Marissa.”

“You really don’t and this isn’t working out for me.” I clasped my cold hands together. “Thanks for watching out for me last night.”

“This is all completely jacked up. You just need to calm down.”

The doorbell rang and I hurried over to it. Mrs. Herrington was on the other side and I threw myself into her familiar arms.

Mrs. Herrington patted the back of my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s all okay. I promise.”

Ash’s dad moved past us, carrying the baby.

I knew I was acting like a big baby myself, no older than Ashley’s brother Bray, but my head felt fuzzy and my hand stung and my emotions felt like they were dive bombing and soaring every few seconds.

“Garrett,” Mr. Herrington said, his tone hard. He sounded like a big movie studio executive. Before, I’d only heard him sound like Ashley’s dad: a strict, proud, indulgent combination. Nothing like I’d ever heard from my own dad.

“Hi ya,” Garrett said. “It’s been a long time.”

I wiped my cheeks and straightened. “Thanks for picking me up, Mrs. Herrington. I’ll get my bag.”

Garrett stepped forward. “You don’t have to leave, Marissa.”

I didn’t answer him. My throat felt too thick with emotion. I moved to my room to grab my stuff.

Mr. Herrington handed Bray to Mrs. Herrington and gave me a hand. He froze in the doorway, taking in my room. “What the hell?”

“Oh, Marissa, why didn’t you move into our house?” Mrs. Herrington asked, gazing around the small space.

“What?” Garrett strode forward and looked in. His head jerked back; then he went forward and checked the door that led to the bathroom. “This is a freaking closet.”

“Get in the car, Ashley,” Mr. Herrington said, his voice pissed.

“I’m not Ashley.”

Mr. Herrington shook his head. “Get in the car, Marissa, right now.” He pointed a finger at Garrett. “The only, and I mean the only reason you are not fired immediately is that you’ve clearly never been in Marissa’s room before.”

Oh. “No, of course he hasn’t. Mr. Herrington, this isn’t Garrett’s fault.”

“Car. Marissa. Now. I’ll handle this.”

I started to protest and Mrs. Herrington put her hand on my arm. “Let the men talk. You can call Garrett later.” She handed me Bray and grabbed my bag.

My arms full of baby, I couldn’t do anything but follow her out. I could hear Mr. Herrington as I went through the door. “This is how you treat your staff? This is how you treat my daughter’s best friend?”

I should have been annoyed at Mr. Herrington’s interference, Ashley would have been, but for a moment it was nice to feel what it would have been like to have a father who stood up for me. I could stand up for myself, but today, when I’d royally screwed up, it was nice to have people around who cared.