Page 17 of Camera Shy

Uh-oh. Palmer’s a lot of things. A hot mess. A mooch. The person who reminds me that I should probably get a pedicure more than once a year and that my favorite bra gives me major uniboob. But she’s the only person who can say it because she loves me. She protects me. She does not tolerate when I’m self-deprecating.

She’s stoic as she glares at me, so I continue, “Oh, come on. Be realistic. That man we saw jogging is ten times sexier than Mason, and I can’t even keep the one I have interested.” I suck in a breath as the pang in my chest gets dangerously close to the wall I’ve built around my heart. Stop it. I am numb. “Had. I mean had.”

Palmer lowers her voice. “Avery Leigh Scott.” She narrows her eyes. “You are beautiful. Yes, you need new clothes, new shoes, and for the love of God, let me teach you how to contour your face properly, but you are a fucking ten inside and out and could pull any man you want.” She closes the space between us and yanks me into what can only be called an aggressive hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” I mumble into a mouthful of her hair.

She sniffles as she pulls away and looks directly into my eyes. I fight the urge to look away from her intense stare. “I know you agreed to stay here to run away from me.”

“Palmer…” I let out an exasperated sigh. She’s half right. Why lie? “I need a summer to find myself.”

“I’m your best friend,” she says with a disingenuous smile. “You can’t find yourself around me?”

“I need space to figure out…” What do I need to figure out? It’s really hard to solve a problem when you refuse to let yourself face it.

“Please, please, tell me you’re not considering trying to get him back. This isn’t even about your feminine power, okay? You guys aren’t—” She buries her face in both hands and shakes her head in frustration. Taking a deep breath, she drops her arms to her side and pleads with me. “You deserve better. You deserve a man who doesn’t think being with you is settling.”

Her words sting. This is why I needed to spend my summer here, away from it all. I need a break from the truth Mason shoved down my throat. The worst part is he almost went through with it. Apparently, I’m good enough to marry, but not intriguing enough to fuck. I wish it didn’t bother me, but it does…

So much.

What woman doesn’t want to be treated as beautiful, desirable, and tempting? Part of intimacy is sex. How is it possible I’m so good at one but lacking miserably at the other?

“What I deserve is the time and space to get through this in my own way.”

She nods, albeit reluctantly. “Okay—”

Her phone ringing interrupts us. Palmer scrambles for her phone, all jittery and twitchy like she’s about to wiggle out of her own skin. She’s always like this after auditions, and I don’t want to see the heartbreak in her eyes if it’s bad news. Excusing myself from the kitchen, I explore Dex’s main living room.

There are two large fish tanks that seem to be built into the walls. I don’t even understand how to access them. Does the wall come apart? What the fuck? How do the fish eat? How does the aquarium guy clean this tank?

From what I understand, the higher maintenance fish are in the saltwater tanks, which are upstairs. Those are the ones that need careful tending to. The fish down here live off of auto feeders and nutrient-enriched water. They are beautiful swimming around in their little enclosures, none the wiser that the world is so much bigger than these glass walls. But maybe it’s better—they can’t get hurt in here. I know some people think aquariums are cruel and that fish should swim in the ocean…

But at least they won’t be shark food in here. Is that such a bad life? Cared for, cleaned, fed, and admired? Or is running and hiding for life daily a fair price to pay for freedom?

I follow the tiniest fish in the largest tank darting back and forth in a tizzy. It’s cherry-colored. Not quite red, not quite pink, right in the middle and slightly iridescent. How strange. It looks like it forgot something and it’s struggling to remember exactly what it’s doing.

“I got an audition,” Palmer says right behind me, making me jump and smack my palm against the fish tank.

Cherry, as I’ve dubbed my little fish friend, is stunned. It’s staring right at me like I just caused an earthquake in its little paradise. I cringe. Dex did warn me never to tap the glass. It’s cruelly disorienting for the fish. Sorry, Cherry.

Spinning around, I face Palmer. “When’s the callback?”

“Not that audition.” She grimaces. “That was a bust. They’re going with some baby-faced coed, because Chase Ford likes them young.” She grunts in frustration.

Anytime Palmer doesn’t land an audition, the casting directors and the movie stars they’ve cast become the ultimate enemy. Apparently, Hollywood heartthrob Chase Ford is no exception.

“I’m pretty positive he’s married.” I swear I saw him and his new wife on a magazine cover. “She’s not an actress. She’s an artist or something. Noa—”

“Like marriage stops these Hollywood fuckboys from cheating. Please. Anyway, moving on. My agent got me an audition for a lead in a new pilot. The main actress dropped out last minute for some reason.” Her eyes widen. “It’s a big deal. It’s like the next Breaking Bad or something.”

“Palmer, that’s amazing! When is it?”

“They want me to read for them by tonight. They have to make a decision ASAP.”

“Let’s go.” I nod over my shoulder. “I’ll drive you home.” My back is still a little stiff from the five-hour drive out here, but good God, this could finally be her big break.

“It’s not in L.A., Aves. It’s in New Mexico. Albuquerque.” She shrugs. “I don’t know if—”

---