Page 90 of Filthy Rich

My hand trembles.

I force myself to open the card anyway.

Dear Octavia,

I know we didn’t work out, but that doesn’t change the fact that you belong in this dress. It was designed for you, and it has to be the album cover. Wear it, and don’t turn to the left. Smile so that the whole world sees your beauty the same way I do.

They’ll be transfixed.

Shine for them, even when it’s hard. The world needs your light.

-Jake

The shoot ends up being way delayed. They have to redo my makeup entirely, because I cry so much that it runs down my face. But when the photographer shows up, and when everyone else in the band—including Bea—has changed into all black, they won’t listen to a word of protest.

“You’ll all disappear,” I say.

“We should.” Now Morgan’s crying. “We all should.”

“I think the cover should just be her,” Q says.

“Yes.” Bea nods. “I wrote every song for you.” She smiles. “Please?”

In the end, they do take some photos of just me, but I make them take photos with the whole band as well.

“We can let editorial decide what’s best,” Bea says. “If they want us there, we’ll all be on it. But the shots of just you are powerful.”

“I think they kind of frown on us peering over the photographer’s shoulder,” Morgan says.

Bea laughs. “Frowning doesn’t scare me. Jake Priest’s my brother.”

We all laugh, but it hurts just a little.

When I try to leave, the shoot director insists I take the gown with me. “I can’t,” I say. “You have to return it.”

“The studio didn’t pay for it,” the director says. “Jake paid for it himself, and he was very adamant that it was meant for you.”

It barely fits in the van—shipping it is a complete ordeal. Even so, I’m secretly delighted.

Bea and I both try going by Jake’s apartment several times, but if he’s there, he never answers the door. Eventually, we board our flights home. The movie catches up on the filming, because within a week or two of getting home, we start seeing ads for it.

I ignore them, mostly.

Though it’s nice to hear our music. A few weeks later, our album launches with just me on the cover. Well, me and The Dress. It feels like it needs its own zip code. I brace myself for the nasty comments, the cruel criticisms, and the rude digs. A few do pop up, but way, way fewer than I expected. The beauty of the dress works its magic, because the vast majority of the comments actually say they finally understand why Jake’s with me.

That hurts worse than digs about my face, honestly.

Two weeks later, we see the first official trailer for the movie, and that’s the first time I hear rumors connecting May with Jake. It’s worse than the comments about us being together after he dumped me, because I know they’re a better fit.

And fans go wild.

Rumors circulate like wildfire, some of them portraying me as a horrible shrew, while others maintain I was wronged. Plenty of others paint me as a tragic figure who made too many demands, or the femme fatale that broke Jake’s poor, battered heart.

In those, May’s the heroine who nursed him back to health, basically.

Since I know how ridiculous they all are, I should know that it’s even odds whether he’s actually dating May. But he did like her, and she is adorable, and they did work together. They kissed each other, too.

If I’m being completely realistic, I have to assume they are together.

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