Page 11 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

“I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

“You definitely don’t with her, that’s for sure.” He laughs. “But maybe if you did, you’d both start getting along. Or are you just too in love with Calista James to even see anyone else?”

“Those are just rumors.”

“I bet.” His gaze shifts around just for the show of it. “Where is Calista anyway? Shouldn’t she be here with you?”

“Like I said, rumors.”

“Teague”—a woman in all black with a headset smashing the bun on top of her head gently taps his forearm—“you’re next on the red carpet.”

He tugs his lapels. “I’ll see you in there.”

“Sounds good.”

I scan the room, looking for someone new to talk to. My gaze lands on Jenna again and lingers. She’s talking to her family. It’s easy to see the resemblance between her and her parents, plus I recognize her famous NFL brother and his sportscaster fiance´e. I come to these events alone while she has an entire support group cheering her on. The paradox between our two lives knocks me in the face.

How much different would things have been if I’d had even one person in my corner? One person at the beginning of my career to tell me the partying was getting out of hand. Maybe I wouldn’t be standing here today, trying to reinvent myself. But those aren’t the cards I was dealt. I shake the fleeting thought away because I’m about twelve years past caring about stuff like that.

JENNA

* * *

“Jenna! Over here!”

I turn my face to the right, where the shouts came from. Sparks of light explode at me like the Fourth of July.

A slight smile.

A toe pop.

A shoulder tilt.

A dip of my chin.

It’s all about angles.

I repeat it again on the other side.

“Jenna! Jenna!” Yelling photographers and camera flashes barely faze me anymore.

The woman in black with the badge around her neck and the clipboard in her hands ushers me forward to my next photo op.

As I slowly walk, my lips press together in a subtle slash of a smile, giving each press outlet the perfect front-page picture.

I own this red carpet.

Something about wearing a beautiful dress and having professional hair and makeup gives me an extra boost of I-can-do-this.

This is a big night for me.

My acting debut.

If I think about it too long, I’ll curl up in the fetal position and rock back and forth. So I’m not going to think about it. I’m going to stand here and pretend like I’m the most confident woman in the world. I’ve been wearing that mask for so long no one knows it’s just a facade.

“Entertainment Live with Ike Rosa is your next interview.” Thank goodness for the woman with the clipboard guiding me, or else I’d never remember all these names.

“Jenna, you look stunning!” Ike gushes.

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