Page 6 of The Game

The guy eyes me over his shoulder as we head toward the elevators. “Have you ever been to a red-carpet event before?”

I shake my head as we step into the elevator, and he scans a card and presses a button that says penthouse. Janus is having a laugh about that money thing. He knew. Of course, he did.Perhaps one day I’ll own something like this. The idea makes me want to chuckle. I resell Chinese electronics to the American market and design little electronic kits. How would that ever make me rich?

Mr. Floppy Hair types frantically into his phone. “Well, let me tell you …” He puffs out his cheeks and taps on his screen a few more times. “They will dissecteverything.” His eyes veer toward my crotch. “Including whether your boxers are visible through your pants. It’s my job to make sure they concentrate on Anna, the awards, the movie, the sport …” He waves a hand. “Whatever it is, not some faux pas we could have seen coming.”

“Doesn’t that make it all a bit boring?” Personally, I love all those stories where someone shows some sideboob by mistake, or the dress is see-through.

He rolls his eyes at me. “You want the outline of your penis to be discussed on prime-time television?”

Okay, maybe I get it.

“There are celebrity bulge sites, if you get my drift.”

“Are you serious?”

He raises his eyebrows at me and then holds out the sheaf of papers. “Before I forget, I need you to sign this NDA. There’s some instructions on protocol in there, too.”

I take the papers from him and start reading. No pictures, no posting, no discussion of anything that happens in the penthouse or at the event.Okaaaay. I feel like I’m running behind the curve: Everyone is taking this seriously except me. I turn my phone over in my hand and type in my text thread to Janus:

An NDA is required for drinks and dinner?

When the doors of the elevator open, another man in form-fitting pants, heels, pink hair, and red glasses is standing waiting.

“Serge,” my companion says tightly with a nod, and the air crackles. Hmmm, interesting vibe—what’s going on between these two? And Mr. Floppy Hair never gave me his name.

“Julio,” Serge replies, glancing at his watch. “It’s going to be tight.”

“But you’re a genius, darling,” Julio murmurs, before gesturing at my hair. “What do you think?”

Serge stares at my head. “Turn around,” he says, moving his hand in a circular motion.

I obey. Because, hey, with these two guys I wouldn’t dare do anything else.

“I think it would be fabulous with those instant highlights you did on Matt,” Julio says. “More blond, for sure.”

Serge’s eyes widen. “Yes. Oh yes!” Then he scowls. “But we’ll have to do his makeup at the same time.”

“Makeup?” I say.

Julio sighs and leans into Serge, saying in a low voice, “He’s very straight.”

Serge gestures down my body. “He actually doesn’t look that bad for a straight guy.”

Julio’s eyes bug out, and Serge claps a hand over his mouth, but I laugh as they both stare at me wide-eyed.

“Trust me, I’m very flattered that you think I look even halfway decent,” I say.

Julio rolls his shoulders as his eyes flick to Serge. “Don’t saytoomany inappropriate things to him. You know what happened last time,” he says, and then he gives me a wave and heads off down the corridor.

Serge beckons me in the opposite direction. “What happened last time?” I lean in to whisper.

He shakes his head and makes a zipping motion over his lips, and now it’s become my mission to find out what he said and who he said it to.

Half an hour in and I like Serge so much that, if I had any money at all, I’d ask him to come and work for me. He’d be an amazing additional marketing person. He has gossiped nonstop about actors, actresses, and the jobs he’s worked on. Matt, apparently, is Matt Damon, and I can’t believe I’ve got Matt Damon’s hairstylist doing something to my short locks. He won’t tell me what happenedlast time, but it wasn’t Matt who is “the cutest.” It turns out that someone complained about Serge coming on to him. “In all fairness, darling, all the indications were he was gay, and he didn’t give me the vibe he was going to be offended, likeat all, if you understand what I’m saying.”

He tells me all this while slapping some paste on various parts of my hair, and I take in his leather pants, tight white vest, and dark chest fur with an interesting necklace dangling over his pecs.

“I like your outfit.”

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