Page 59 of Overexposed

Ollie was pulling into the driveway as Jerry left, and I decided I would askhimfor help, since Gem was being a selfish dickwad. While I waited for him to park, I opened the package and found it was full of panties. Used panties. Gross. Our fan group was fucking intense some days.

It took us the better part of an hour to get Ollie up-to-speed on everything, from the photos to the tabloids, to Jerry’s idea of how to spin it all. Then I asked very nicely if he would please speak with Stella to gain her cooperation.

Ollie, fucking asshole, burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I growled, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

He shook his head with a wide grin playing across his lips. “You. Why don’t you justpay herto come to the premiere?”

I blinked at him in confusion. “What?”

Ollie sighed like I was a dense fuck. “You don’t need to appeal to her good graces or beg for a favor. You also don’t need Gem or I applying a guilt trip—which neither of us would agree to anyway. You simply have to offer her a business proposition. You already paid her to sign the NDA so she’s not talking to reporters about anything, so all you actually need is for her to show up at the premiere. So…pay her for her time.”

I was a little taken aback by that suggestion, despite the fact that was literally what I’d tried to do today. “She’s not a prostitute, Ollie. That seems a bit insulting doesn’t it?” Pretty sure I already knew what her answer would’ve been. So what the hell could I do to make the offer sweeter?

He snort laughed. “Good, because she’s not going to actually fuck you, Sev.” Then he smirked Gem’s way. “Me, on the other hand…”

Gem threw a piece of his sandwich at Ollie’s head and glowered. “Stop hitting on my girl, asswipe.”

“She’s not your girl, Gem,” Ollie snarked back, grinning like a hyena. “She’s Seven’s now.”

Fucking hell, I was already regretting this stupid plan.

chapter

twenty-three

Stella

“I’m getting the popcorn,” I called over my shoulder, laughing as I headed into the kitchen.

“Don’t forget the beer!” Dad sounded good today, despite the raspiness in his voice.

“I’ll get right on that.” As it was, I just snorted. There was no beer. Dad had apparently gotten a friend to drop some off, then Mom found it during her shift, and she made a show of pouring it out. That had to have been fun.

Dad called me after she left to try and get me to replace it. I wasn’t really willing to do that, but I did come over and let his afternoon nurse go home early. He’d been grumpy until I pointed out one of his favorite actors had a new movie that just hit streaming and we could watch it.

Smothering a yawn, I pulled out the microwavable popcorn with the extra movie butter and tossed it in for three minutes. As the machine fired up, I opened the fridge to examine our drink options.

The doorbell rang and I tilted my head back with a yawn. Shutting the fridge, I headed for the front door with a half-smothered yawn. I’d spent most of the night on a stakeout at the house being used by the latestMarried with Benefitsseason thatmoved a dozen couples into the same place to see what would happen when they had to play musical beds every other day.

Fuckery was what happened. Fuckery and drama, and the public ate it up if the ratings were to be believed.

“Shutterbug,” Dad coughed as he called.

“I got it,” I called back. “You stay put.” Dad had been pushing it lately, at least that was what all the nurses said, and Mom had complained about. He wanted to do more on his own, but he was a fall risk.

Stubborn man.

Whoever was at the door rang the bell a second time before I got there. The sound of the popcorn going in the kitchen and the scent followed me. Almost immediately, my stomach growled. I’d have to see if we had any Raisinets or Milk Duds hidden in the kitchen.

Opening the door, I blinked stupidly at the last person I expected to see standing on the stoop of the little A-frame in Burbank. Seven Harrison glared at me from behind the dark sunglasses—I didn’t have to see his eyes to feel the icy heat.

“Not interested,” I told him as I pushed the door closed again.

He landed a palm against it to stop me. “You knowSlick, you might want to make sure I’m my asshole twin’s brother before you shut the door in my face.”

I snorted. “Don’t call me that,” I ordered. “You are no more Gem than I am.”

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