She sputters over her words, failing to complete a sentence.
“You’re pathetic.” Mylan points at me. “Jensen is my best friend. Don’t you ever say anything about him again. Got it?”
She cowers, wide-eyed, and steps back closer to her friends.
“Got it?”
Mylan stares her down until she agrees then returns to where Rey and I stand.
“You really didn’t have to—”
He turns me away from the girls and we start walking. “Jensen, don’t ever let anyone put you down like that. You’re a human being. You deserve common decency like everyone else.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I mean, look at you.”
“Acceptance of yourself is key. Once you love yourself, the confidence will follow.” He glances back at the group of girls who are now consoling Tiffany. She's not crying, but she looks absolutely embarrassed. “Those girls are bullies, but only if you let them be.”
He throws one arm over my shoulder and his other one over Rey’s and the three of us walk off set towards our trailers. “We are the leads of this show. We are badasses. This is only the beginning for us. In a few years, you won’t even remember those girls. You’ll be too busy winning awards and making bank.”
I smile because I like that sound of that.
“Now, call time isn’t until noon tomorrow, so who wants to go get drunk? My friend is throwing a party out in West Hollywood.”
“Hell yeah,” Rey says.
“I’m down,” I add.
I return home wasted and with an older woman’s phone number. Well, not much older. She’s nineteen and an actress who recently starred in some action movie with Brad Pitt . I’d never met such a bold woman. She flirted with me, kissed my cheek and neck, and tried to kiss me on the lips, but after what happened on set today, I refused. She gave me her number and told me to call when I'm ready to pop my cherry.
I didn’t tell her I was a virgin. My refusal to kiss her and the tension radiating off my body as she kept touching me must have tipped her off.
I just don’t like being touched.
My parents’ Beverly Hills home is dark when I enter, only the light in the foyer is on. The house staff must have already turned in for the night and my parents are probably upstairs in their office, working late. They're entertainment lawyers, so they always have some crisis needing to be taken care of.
I walk up the winding staircase heading to my room, trying not to knock into things because I've never drank so much booze in my life. I got tipsy on my sixteenth birthday with my cousin, but that was on beer. Tonight, I drank the hard stuff. Mylan kept handing me drink after drink like he does this all the time, despite being a year younger than me.
My parents’ voices stop me right before I pass the door to my father’s office. Most kids would sneak by, quiet and worried they’ll get busted. Not me. My parents don’t care what I do or how late I stay out.
As if sensing I'm home, my father opens the door and turns the corner, nearly running into me.
“Jen. What are you doing lurking out here in the hallway?”
My father, Jack Boliver, is a big guy like me—tall and bearded, with light brown hair that curls at the ends.
“I just got home,” I say and hiccup.
“Are you drunk?”
I shrug and try to hide my smile.
My father sighs and glances at my mother, who’s standing in the doorway at his side. Julie Boliver is nearly a foot shorter than my father and petite. She has darker hair that also curls around her face.
“Just… be careful,” my father says. “Keep your head up and be on the lookout for paparazzi. And don’t get into trouble.”
My heart pumps faster. He cares? This is the first time my father has ever shown that he’s concerned.
“Your father is right, Jenny. We deal with messes all day. We don’t need yours to add on to our work.” She pats my arm as if doing so was a chore, then she turns back to my father. “I’m going to bed, sweetheart. Goodnight, son.”