I swallow and give myself one last pep talk before I step out of the limo. Paparazzi are lined up behind ropes and flashes of light blind me as I step aside so Dustin can climb out. He waves to the cameras and then grasps my hand, firm and steady.
Paparazzi call out to us, but there’s a whooshing sound in my ears, and I can’t hear them clearly. Flashes of light blind me. I know I’ve got a terrible expression on my face, like I’m an animal about to be roadkill.
Before I know what’s happening, Dustin guides me up the steps and into the building. The lobby is dimly lit and quiet compared to the commotion outside. An artsy chandelier hangs down the center with clusters of lit up rectangles. It adds a nice touch to the building.
A few people are waiting by the elevators, and I recognize Jalen Carter, the famous pop singer who used to sing as Shadow Walker. I listen to his music all the time. My stomach clenches.
Dustin walks up to Jalen and shakes his hand. “Good to see you again, Jalen. You know Jera Davenport, right?”
Jalen extends his hand to me. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
I shake his hand and smile. “I love your music.” I try not to act like a fangirl, but it’s hard. I followed Jalen’s story closely when the news broke that he was Shadow Walker. I’m a bit enamored with him.
Jalen grins at me. “Thank you. I love your work as well.” He motions to the woman next to him. “This is my wife, Riley.”
I say hello and take in a deep breath. This is going to be all right. All I have to do is smile at people and shake hands. That’s easy.
The elevator dings and we enter. Dustin leans down to me. “You doing all right?”
I nod. “I’m good.” For once I’m not lying. I just shook hands with one of the biggest pop stars in the nation and I didn’t even throw up on him. I’m peachy.
But as soon as the elevator doors open up to a massive ballroom full of people, my anxiety smacks me in the face. I grab onto Dustin’s hand like it’s a life preserver and I’m about to drown.
“It’s okay,” he says in my ear, ushering me out of the elevator. “Just stay by me.”
I cling to him and we walk through the ballroom. We pass a massive mural of painted sea turtles swimming under the water. The mural glimmers with something shiny and sparkly over the paint. I focus on it as we walk. It’s a beautiful piece, and I wonder who painted it. Was it made just for this event? The signature says Isabella Shepherd, and I almost trip. I know that artist. She’s extremely famous in the art world.
Dustin guides me to the table where they’re serving hors d’oeuvres. A large ice sculpture in the shape of a sea turtle sits among the shrimp cocktails. “Do you want something to eat?” he asks.
I shake my head. I couldn’t eat right now if I was dying of hunger. “No, thank you.”
“No problem.” He bypasses the tables of food, and we travel to a corner of the ballroom where there’s a break in the crowd.
Several people say hello to us, and I recognize some of them from television. Mostly I’m just trying to breathe and not do or say anything embarrassing.
Dustin turns to me. “How are you doing? You look a little pale.”
My gaze skitters around the large room. Jera said this would be a small party. I’ll have to tell her later what I consider small because this definitely isn’t it.
“I’m…okay I think.” Lie. I’m going to pass out. There’s a buzzing noise in my head, like it’s filled with bees.
“Jera, focus on me.” Dustin pumps my hand until I look at him. “Look at me and nothing else. Pretend we’re the only ones in this room.”
I stare at his face, trying to pull it into focus. I take in his hair, his eyes, and his lips. For some reason, staring at his lips makes me feel better.
“Good,” he says, smiling. “Now tell me what your favorite food is.”
“Macaroni and cheese.” I say it automatically, like I would rattle off my birthdate or my social security number if I were talking to the bank.
He laughs, and not just some polite laugh either. It’s a belly laugh. “Really?”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks, but I don’t try to deny it. “Yeah.”
“I see. And what’s your favorite color?”
I know what he’s trying to do, and I like that he’s being so sweet. It’s actually working a little too. I’m still tense, but he’s helping me breathe better. “Cotton candy pink.”
“Like the food, or is that the name of a tube of paint?”
I smile because he’s getting to know me so well. “Tube of paint.”
He nods. “I like it. Do you have any paintings done with cotton candy pink?”
“I often use it in sunsets.”
“Ah, that would be beautiful. I was imagining a monochromatic one, all cotton candy pink.” He smiles at me, and It reminds me how incredibly good looking this man is. Everything about him screams movie star, from his strong jawline to his brilliant blue eyes. No wonder he’s had an amazing career.
“I’m impressed that you know what monochromatic means.”
“I took an art class once. Back in college. Only time in my life I almost flunked a class.” He grins at me, his perfect white teeth showing.
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“How can that even be?” I always thought everyone got good grades in art. “Did you skip all the assignments?”
“No,” he says with a laugh in his voice. “I’m just terrible at anything past a stick figure.”
“But I didn’t think teachers graded on skill level. Not unless you’re an art major and want to do it full-time.” I frown at the injustice of his college art teacher.
“Or maybe you sailed through those classes because you had natural talent.” He takes my other hand in his. “How are you doing?”
I realize the buzzing in my head has subsided and I’m not as nauseous. He kept me talking and took my mind off the crowd. “Better.”
He gives me a smile and it warms me to my toes. “Good.”
“Do you want to try some food now?”
I glance at the people crowded around the hors d’oeuvre tables and my anxiety creeps up. The buzzing comes back. “No.”
“No problem. We can stay right here and talk.” He moves to get in my line of sight. “Stay focused on me.”
I stare at him and try to forget we’re at a party. I force myself to breathe. “Okay.”
Several people come over and chat with us. I focus on Dustin, and I’m able to say a few hellos without falling apart. After several conversations Dustin squeezes my hand. “You’re doing great.”
“Thank you.”
The live band begins playing “All of Me” by John Legend, and a few couples move to the dance floor. Dustin glances in that direction, then turns to me. “Do you want to dance?”
Maybe concentrating on moving my feet in the right ways will help me focus and forget about the people. “Sure.”
Dustin leads me to the corner of the dance floor, and I love how he instinctively knows I don’t want to be in the middle. He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me to him, taking my hand. He starts to sway to the music, slow and rhythmic.
All kinds of feelings surface in me. The fluid way he glides to the music is soothing, and I’m safe in his arms. My body reacts to being so close to him, enveloped in his scent. My heart races and my hormones scream at me. This man is all muscle.
He leans down. “Still doing okay?” His voice is low, and his breath tickles my cheek.
He’s somehow created a bubble just for us, and this dance seems intimate even though we’re in a room full of people. “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Tell me, why did you decide to go into acting?”
Luckily, I know this answer. “Because of Audrey Hepburn.”
“Really?” His thumb grazes over my back and shivers go up my spine.
“I’m serious. My aunt was in love with old movies. I grew up watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s and My Fair Lady. I adored Audrey and wanted to be just like her when I grew up. That’s what first sparked my interest in Hollywood.”
“Now I understand why you’d want to meet Cary Grant. I grew up on those movies, too. My parents loved films from that era. They don’t make movies like that anymore.”
“I agree. Those are some of the best films.”
Dustin smiles down at me. “And what sparked your interest in painting?”
That’s easy to answer. “When I was five my father took me to an art museum. It was just him and me, and I felt so special, so grown up. I fell in love with the beautiful landscapes. The mountains and trees seemed to leap right off the paper. My father seemed so impressed with the paintings, and I knew I wanted to create beauty like that. I wanted him to be impressed with me.”
“He must be.”
Tears prick at my eyes, and I have to blink to stop them from falling down my face. I hadn’t meant to bring him up. I hadn’t even realized he was so tied in with my desire to paint.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just…” I shake my head to try to clear away the pain. “He’s not a part of my life anymore.”
“I’m so sorry.” His hand presses firmly on my back, pulling me even closer.
“It’s okay. Normally I’m not emotional about it.”
After a few minutes of swaying to the music, Dustin leans close. “So, you have no contact with him?”
“No. And the only photo I have of him is on my phone.”
Dustin sucks in a breath. “Oh, Jera.”
The way he says my sister’s name sends a wave of sadness through me. The words, “I’m not Jera,” form on my lips, but I can’t say them. I’m supposed to be Jera right now. This is my one job, and I can’t mess it up for my sister. But what I wouldn’t give to hear him say, “Oh, Mackenzie.”
I sigh and put my head on his shoulder. It feels so nice to be close to him. I don’t want this dance to end.
“Jera!”
I jerk around at the sound of my sister’s name and see Luke Carter striding toward me, his nostrils flaring.
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