Page 55 of Crossing the Line
“No, I mean about the junket. Do you think it’s going well?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“You’re a trained observer. Gwendolyn seems to think we’re doing a shit job selling the film and ourselves, and if I asked Phil, he would just tell me I’m brilliant and pat me on the head.”
“Point taken. What do you want to know?”
“What do you think is coming across to the press?”
He took another bite of slider and thought before speaking. “What people find interesting about stories is the relationships. So whether it’s between you and Liam in real life or as characters, that’s what they want to hear about. So your interactions with a co-star or a director or the author of the book, even your own stalker. It’s the relationships that matter to people.”
Waverly looked pensive. “Still waters certainly run deep. Thanks, X.” Then she snagged the rest of the slider off his plate and ate it.
At least the real Waverly was still in there somewhere, Xavier noted. He was glad she and Liam had foregone the “ex-lovers” angle. Even if the relationship was fake, Xavier would have still wanted to beat the hell out of the guy, and Liam seemed like a decent man. Not like that Dante Wrede.
Kate signaled to Xavier, and he crossed the suite to her.
“Got another message from our pal,” she whispered.
He took her phone and glanced at the screen.
I look forward to seeing you at the premiere. It’ll be our night.
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Kate was readying for battle with her arsenal of boob tape, safety pins, floss, markers, and a cosmetic bag full of beauty tools spread out over the European down comforter in one of the main house’s upstairs guest rooms.
“I feel woefully unprepared for a stalker attack,” she muttered, shoving beauty supplies into her sleek tote.
“Hey! Don’t jinx us,” Waverly complained from her perch on a tufted ottoman in front of the mirror.
“Hold still,” Marisol commanded, the pins between her lips moving as she spoke.
“Sorry, Mari,” Waverly said and tried to stop fidgeting.
“I feel like I should at least be packing pepper spray or a Taser or something,” Kate frowned. “Unless I can like stab him with this.” She picked up an eyelash curler.
“This is why we have security: so we don’t have to be the ones doing the stabbing,” Waverly reminded her.
“Yeah, but, aren’t you mad? I mean, don’t you kind of want to have the pleasure of kicking this guy in the balls yourself?”
Waverly’s stomach took a sick slide at the thought of being that close to Ganim. She was mad, yes, but fear was right up there on the list of things she was feeling leading up to the premiere. She already felt woefully unprepared to deal with the mental side of the evening—the crowd, the photographers, the interviews. And adding worries about Ganim to the mix could have her curled in the fetal position if she let herself think too much. But Kate the warrior wouldn’t understand. She’d punch trouble in the balls without a second’s hesitation.
“I don’t care who kicks him where,” she confessed. “I just want him gone from my life.” She thought about the envelope that had arrived today from Stanford. The one from Admissions. The one she’d been too terrified to open. It was the news she’d been waiting for, and now she was too freaked out to find out whether or not she got in.
As long as the envelope was still sealed, her dreams could be both alive and dead. She couldn’t imagine getting a yes and then trudging around campus with a security detail and a stalker. Normal would never be within her reach if Les Ganim stayed free.
“Don’t get her all riled up,” Mari said sternly to Kate. “This is a big night and Waverly does not need to be worried about anything. Worry gives you wrinkles.”
Waverly met Kate’s gaze in the mirror, and they rolled their eyes at each other.
“I saw that,” Mari announced without ever lifting her gaze from the seam of Waverly’s top.
“Spooky,” Kate hissed. She flopped on the bed.
“Don’t wrinkle your dress,” Waverly warned her. “You look amazing in it, by the way.”
Kate stood and obliged with a slow twirl around Waverly’s footstool. The navy sheath dress nipped in at the waist giving Kate a hint of curves she’d never quite sprouted on her own. She’d pulled her hair back in a serviceable ponytail and added a bit of curl to class it up. She wore two pairs of diamond studs in her earlobes.
