Page 22 of Fool Me

Julia shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t worry. I used to live this way too. I just need a moment to...” After looking around for a few more seconds, she plucked a yellow pillow from Sadie’s sofa and set it on the nearby armchair instead. “There. That’s better.”

And now I’ll never move that pillow again.

After a second short pause, Julia looked straight at her, jaw muscles taut. “This is the part where you ask me to sit down.”

Sadie barked a nervous laugh. “Oh, of course. Please, sit down. I’m not used to Hollywood royalty in my home.”

“Nobody is,” Julia said with a light sigh. She brushed at the edge of the armchair where she’d placed the pillow and lowered herself slowly onto the seat. She smiled up at Sadie. “This is the part where you offer me a refreshment.”

Sadie burst into mortified action. “I’m so, so sorry! Would you like tea? A diet soda? Water?”

“Water would be nice, but make sure the glass is extra clean.”

Sadie scurried into her narrow galley kitchen, which was open to the living room through a pass through. “I’m sorry about the smell. I was just about to shower. I spent the whole morning frying eggs.”

“Oh!” Julia said with obvious relief. “I was starting to wonder where you’d buried the body.”

Sadie wiped painstakingly at a water glass with a clean dish towel before filling it and another one with chilled water. She handed the carefully wiped one to Julia, who examined it against the light from Sadie’s front window before taking the tiniest sip and setting it down on the coffee table. Relieved, Sadie perched on the chair opposite, the cold glass in her hand like a lifeline to reality. She could feel every thread of the upholstery against the back of her legs, and her mind already imagined the moment she would tell her sisters about Julia Menlo sitting in her living room. Too bad neither of them would particularly care.

Julia’s every movement displayed the regal control of a runway model, and Sadie felt her own relaxed frumpiness in comparison. Had Julia been born with this level of control or had she once existed like a regular person and trained herself to rise above it? Sadie sat back in her chair, crossed her legs at the ankles, and leaned her knees to the left—exactly the way Julia did it.

“I’m here about the dates,” Julia said. Her smile returned, but her tone was businesslike.

Sadia’s heart thrummed. “Are you happy with them or not happy with them?”

Julia’s eyes widened as she nodded in an exaggerated way. “Very happy. So happy, in fact, I think two is enough.”

“You want us to stop?” Sadie said. These dates were Julia’s idea. Why wouldn’t she want the third one?

Julia must have read the surprised look on her face as panic. “Aw, sweetie, what’s wrong? Are you catching feelings for Farm Boy? I hear he gives a mean back rub.”

Sadie wanted to dope-slap herself. Of course, Julia wanted to be done with the dates—she and Grant were a couple!Why hadn’t she anticipated this?Probably because it never occurred to Sadie that she could be a threat to Julia Menlo. The thought was preposterous. Then again, social media was powerful stuff. All those photos and videos—fake as they were—of Grant and her being in love must be getting to Julia. The last thing Sadie wanted was to be in some type of competition with Hollywood’s leading lady. She needed to reassure Julia that that wasn’t the case, and pronto.

She made a face as sickly sour as moldy lemons. “Me catch feelings for Grant? Oh, no, he’s not my type. Believe me, we’re only acting. When the cameras aren’t on, I barely speak to him.”

A half smile crept up the right side of Julia’s famous face. “So why are you so interested in a third date?”

Sadie hesitated. She’d just been asking herself that very question. “Actually?—”

Julia interrupted her predicament by introducing a brand new one. “Is it because you haven’t destroyed his career yet?” she said, one professionally shaped eyebrow arching high on her forehead.

Sadie’s jaw wrenched open and stayed that way. Tornado sirens went off in her mind as she began to realize the danger swirling round her.

Julia’s million-dollar smile spread into a knowing grin. Her finger, its long nail painted deep blood red, traced a lazy circle around her own knee. “You did such a good job picking the first two dates, but it hasn’t gone to plan, has it?”

Already off balance from Julia’s mere presence, Sadie struggled to track this conversation. In rapid succession, Julia had gone from not wanting more dates, to accusing Sadie of liking Grant, to divining her secret goal. If Julia loved Grant or even liked him as a friend, she wasn’t going to be happy about Sadie damaging his career. She might even ruin Sadie’s career to protect Grant. It would be so easy for Julia—just a few phone calls. And why not? Sadie meant nothing to her. They had no connection other than similar hair. GoodbyeSurf Summer, and probably goodbye any acting parts from LA to New York.

Still, Julia could just be guessing, throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks. Sadie arranged her face into her sweetest, most innocent, wide-eyed smile. “Why would you think that?”

“Grant complained to Ronny that he wasn’t prepared for the dates.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m?—"

“It doesn’t, and a regular person would never have suspected, especially with all those happy photos and fun hashtags, but I’m no regular person. An Indian festival for a meat and potatoes guy? Mud wrestling for Mr. Fastidious?” Julia made a pouty face. “Poor Grant, getting his career destroyed by the deli girl just as he’s about to get his big break.”

Sadie’s muscles twisted so tight she felt like a human rubber band ball. “No…I…we…it’s not?—”

“Now, now,” Julia said, cutting her off. She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them again the other direction. “I’m just pretending to be upset to get a rise out of you. From my experience, taking a man’s ego down a notch is never a bad thing. But, so far, all you’ve managed to do is boost Grant’s image, and we can’t have that, not yet. A humbled Grant will be more pliable for…Surf Summer.” She picked up her water glass and tapped its side a few times playfully. “I do like them pliable.”

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