Page 13 of For Butter or Worse
Thebing-bongof the doorbell startled Nina. The “vultures” had arrived. And like Tom said, she knew they’d try to sway her to simply go back to the show, but she couldn’t. How would that make her look to her fans? Like she was just letting Leo get away with calling her nasty? She’d never forgive him for that. Yes, she wanted to have an audience, but not if it was at the expense of her pride.
“I don’t want Leo’s help,” she finally said.
“Celebrities fake relationships all the time for their careers.” He shrugged. “Wake up! There’s a bigger game going on around you. It’s all about whether or not you’re going to be part of it or fade into oblivion.”
“There has to be another way.” Nina eyed the fence surrounding the lawn. It was a solid ten feet high, but maybe she could jump it, disappear and create a new identity. Wigs, fake teeth—she’d don whatever disguise necessary to avoid her fate.
“For the next month or so, while we put your career back together, all you’d have to do is kiss a hot man. Go to events and do just enough that the public’s appetite is fed.” Tom snatched his phone off the table. “I’m going to get the door, and you’re going to think about what I said.”
She buried her face in her hands and let Tom’s words wash over her. The thought that Leo could be the answer hadn’t even crossed her mind, but now that it had, she wanted to erase it.
6
NINA
Nina took the glittery hot-pink helmet and gloves that Jasmine handed her.
“Put that on and tighten the strap,” Jasmine instructed.
“I should probably be more nervous about this death trap.” The engine of the bike purred calmly back at Nina. She’d never ridden a motorcycle. But working in restaurants at a nonstop pace for years had turned her into something of an adrenaline junkie. “But I’m actually excited.”
It was their day off—Lyon was closed on Mondays—and it was also the day of the week when they went to have lunch at a new restaurant they’d never been to. They did this because eating was important, as was keeping up with the LA food scene. Usually they met up at a spot, but today, Nina had agreed to try the bike. She was ready for anything that could speed her as fast as possible away from the harsh realities she was facing. Some people had comfort animals—maybe she’d have comfort motorcycles.
“You’re gonna love this.” Jasmine kicked her leg over the bike and settled onto the seat. Her hands met the handlebars and she ran her palms over them. “Then we can get you lessons. And you can get your own bike.”
“The only thing I know how to do is cook,” Nina said. “And eat. Speaking of, we better get going before my stomach starts consuming itself.”
She approached the bike, but felt as clueless as if she was trying to get into the saddle of a horse. How was she supposed to sit on this thing? There seemed to be almost no room left for her. Surely Jasmine had miscalculated the bike’s ability to fit two people. “I can just follow you in my car?” Nina asked.
“No way, you’re going to sit right behind me,” Jasmine said.
“But, how...?”
“Trust me, you’ll fit.” Jasmine waved over Nina with her hand. “Okay, now hop on, and hold on tight.”
“There’s not, like, a seat belt?” Nina circled the bike looking for any kind of safety measure that would keep her from flying to her death. She found none.
“No. Hence the hold-on-real-tight advice.” Jasmine smiled beneath the plastic visor of the helmet. “You’re my best friend. You know I won’t kill you,” she said reassuringly. “Probably not, at least.”
“If you do, I will come back and haunt you.” Nina swung her leg over the bike’s seat and situated herself as firmly as she could behind her friend. “And I won’t be a nice ghost, either. I’ll break shit.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Jasmine said as she revved the engine.
Nina wrapped her arms around Jasmine’s waist and threaded her fingers together so tightly she was sure her knuckles had already turned white.
“Tap me on the shoulder if something is wrong,” Jasmine called back to her. “And when I move, you move—mimic what I do when we take any turns.”
“Okay.” Nina blinked rapidly. Was she going to remember any of those instructions?
When Jasmine flicked up the kickstand, the motorcycle shot forward, as did Nina. And she couldn’t help herself—she squealed, either from pure fright or exhilaration. The weirdest part was that as they zoomed out of her driveway, her thoughts traveled to Leo. What would he say if he saw her on a motorcycle?
After ten minutes on the bike, Nina was ready for a break. And luckily, they’d arrived at their destination. They parked on a residential side street, just off the main drag. Her legs and fingers and arms and—well, entire body—had gone stiff from being wrapped around Jasmine with the force of a pair of Spanx. Nina stepped off the bike, stumbling slightly as she readjusted to standing.
“You stayed on!” Jasmine shouted. She unclasped her helmet, took Nina’s and locked up the bike.
“I’m not buying my own any time soon, but I can see why you like yours.” There were moments when Nina had felt like she was for sure going to fly off and become roadkill. But then, she hadn’t. And they’d arrived in one piece. And the smile that crossed her face was because even though she’d been scared for a good sixty percent of the ride, the other forty percent was joy from moving fast and feeling the air spin around her.
Of course, she wouldn’t count the time she’d spent wondering what Leo would think of her in a sparkly pink helmet...
