Page 81 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

“You want the job?” I ask in disbelief.

“Of course I do,” Avery frowns. “Haven’t you been listening? Lacey’s a lead role in a massive franchise, and they’re even talking about spinning her off to her own series, if the buzz is right. That’s huge!”

“Right.” I say quietly. “Sure.”

Avery pauses on the sidewalk. “Why aren’t you happy for me? This is what I want.”

“Is it?” I shoot back. “Because I know when you’re faking it, sweetheart, and you’ve been doing it all night. Laughing along with those assholes, pretending like it’s no big deal when he feels you up…”

“It’s not a big deal,” Avery says dismissively.

I snort. “He wants to sleep with you.”

“Well, obviously.” She gives a shrug. “He wouldn’t cast me for the role if he didn’t think I was going to fuck him.”

“And you’re OK with that?” I ask, thrown by the jaded edge in her voice.

“It’s how the industry works,” Avery replies, avoiding the question. She sighs. “Look, if you’re worried about me, don’t be. They’ll send a woman to set from the studio, some young development exec to babysit, and I’ll have my assistant, and they’ll all run interference to make sure we’re never in a room alone together. I’ll make a big deal about focusing on my performance, and soon enough, he’ll get bored of chasing me, and fly in whatever model he’s banging to keep him occupied. It’ll be fine.”

She says it so evenly, it almost hides how fucked-up the situation she’s describing really is. I scowl. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit, strategizing how to keep his hands off you, just to land a job.”

Avery gives me a wry look. “This is how it works in Hollywood.”

“Not if you did the movie with Madeline,” I argue. “You wouldn’t have to put up with any of this bullshit with her. You could just focus on the acting, on doing what you love best.”

“Sure, that would be a dream come true, but she hasn’t offered it to me!” Avery bursts out, her voice ringing in the night. “And the truth is, it might never happen. This is a dream offer I have, right now,” she insists, looking determined. “And I’d have to be stupid not to take it, after everything that’s happened this summer. What do you think all the work was for?” she demands. “Rehabbing my image, and playing all the tabloid games? It was so the gossip would change long enough for me to land a movie like this, and get my life back on track again!”

“On track?” I repeat. “You mean stuck for months on some set in the middle of nowhere, having to stroke that jackass’s ego and dodge his wandering hands?”

Avery shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re pulling this jealous bullshit,” she says flatly, turning away.

“No,” I insist immediately. “I’m not jealous. That’s not what I’m saying here. And if you decide to take this gig, then I’m in,” I swear, pulling her back to me. “I’m all in. I’ll come visit you on set, and run lines with you, and teach you how to hold a crossbow so you don’t shoot someone’s kneecap out. I told you I’ll give you whatever you need, baby, and I mean it,” I vow. “I just want you to take a moment and think about what you want.”

“I want this,” Avery says stubbornly. “I always have.”

But I can see something in her eyes shift. Something aching, and impossibly sad.

“I’ve watched you all summer, tie yourself up in knots playing their bullshit tabloid games,” I tell her, trying to break through. “But this isn’t a game you can win. They’re on your side now, you turned it all around, but what happens when some editor decides they sell more copies with you as the villain, instead?” I demand. “You think Brady and those assholes will stick by you? No, you’ll be right back where you started again, trying to win everyone’s approval when you shouldn’t give a damn what they think. Tell me, where the hell does it end? How long are you going to live like this?”

“Until it works!” Avery bursts out. “Until I’m famous enough that I’m safe, and secure, and nothing can touch me again!”

Her voice echoes, raw and empty, and so bitter that it just about breaks my heart.

“Baby—” I reach for her, but she backs away.

“No, don’t ‘baby’ me,” she says, shaking her head furiously. “You don’t understand.”

“So talk to me,” I try to calm her. “Let me in.”

Avery wipes her face. “I have to get back to LA,” she says abruptly. “I need to talk to my agents, get everything lined up for the announcement.”

“OK,” I agree, even as my heart sinks. “We’ll book a flight for the morning?—”

“No, I need to go now.” Avery pulls herself together before my very eyes: a cool, icy mask slipping over her features. Like the woman on the cover of all those magazines.

Like she’s faking it with me, the way she promised she never would.

“You should go back to Blackberry Cove.” Avery puts her arm out, and hails a passing cab. It screeches to a stop, because of course it would. Nobody in the world would drive past her right now.

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