Page 89 of Beyond the Fame

My driver rolls to a stop at a red carpet that leads to the guest entrance. I step out to flashing lights. Reporters stick out their microphones and yell my name, attempting to lure me over for interviews.

They'll only want to question me over the article about Rebecca, or about our relationship in Hawaii. They'll ask why she’s not here tonight and I’m not ready to talk about any of that.

Also, tonight isn't about me, so I only offer smiles and waves as I quickly pass by the horde.

I'm stopped by the public relation teams for Mylan and Lana’s foundations and pose for pictures in front of a massive backdrop with both charity logos plastered all over it.

“Jensen Boliver?” a voice calls from my right side.

I turn and see a beautiful woman with dark blonde hair styled in loose curls down her back, wearing a red mermaid-style dress.

Holy shit. Tiffany Spars.

My co-star from Metal & Mayhem.

I hadn’t seen her since the show was canceled after three seasons nearly ten years ago. Her career has gone downhill lately, not getting roles like she used to. I wonder why that is. She’s aged gracefully, even more beautiful than I remember.

As she moves to me, I tense. She may be beautiful, but that’s all she has going for her. I remember the hateful words she said about me, behind my back and to my face. Despite Mylan threatening her that first day, she’d still snarl at me every chance she’d get. She'd hide my food and make snide remarks under her breath, far out of Mylan’s hearing.

She’s a horrible, hateful person.

Her tiny hand lands on my arm, and her red lips spread to the fakest of smiles.

“It’s so good to see you.” She scans my body from head to toe. “Wow, you look phenomenal.”

She squeezes my arm and raises a brow, waiting for me to fawn all over her.

“I do look phenomenal, thank you.”

When I don’t feed into her compliment baiting, she purses her lips. “Let’s take a picture together.”

The cameras are going wild, lights strobing with how fast they’re clicking to document our reunion. One I'm sure they’ll hype up to be flirty and happy.

When Tiffany attempts to turn us for a pose, I jerk my arm away. I step close to her, tilting down so only she can hear.

“You think I want to take a picture with the vilest human being I've ever met? Who made my life miserable all because I'm fat? Fuck you.”

Standing tall, I adjust my jacket and smile to show her I can be just as fake. I turn and walk away, stopping at the door next to a worker holding a clipboard.

“Is that woman on the list?”

I give her Tiffany’s name and she scans the pages. She stops and frowns.

“She’s listed under invitees for the Tyler’s Team foundation.”

Right. Mylan would never invite her. Somehow, she snuck her way onto the guest list for Lana’s non-profit because Lana wouldn’t know who she was.

“Un-invite her.”

The woman holds the clipboard against her chest. “Um. I’m not sure I have the authority...”

“I have the authority,” Lana says, appearing next to me. “And if he says that woman shouldn’t be allowed inside, then I trust his judgment.”

The young girl smiles nervously and nods, touching her earpiece to speak into the microphone on the headset she’s wearing. Seconds later, two big security guys walk over to Tiffany, who is still posing for pictures. One leans in and says something next to her ear. Her eyes widen and she places a palm over her chest. Then her sights find me and those eyes narrow. She starts for me but is immediately stopped by one of the security guards who wraps his hand around her upper arm.

The paparazzi go crazy snapping pictures of the drama. I cannot wait to see the headlines tomorrow and make a mental note to email my publicist to write a statement about my past with Tiffany. I could let it go and keep the past in the past. But people should be called out for their horrible behavior to remind others it’s not right and won’t be tolerated.

Inside the Beverly Hilton where the gala is being held, and out of sight of the media, Lana turns to me.

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