Page 9

nine

Alice

It’d absolutely be you.

I can’t stop replaying Dalton’s words from earlier today, which made my stomach flip like it never has before.

He’s funny, sweet, ridiculously sexy, and even with his choice of eight beautiful, successful celebrities, he wants to go out with me . We can’t do it, of course, but it feels pretty amazing to know he even wants to.

“Straps up or down?” Farrah asks me.

We’re in her bedroom, getting her ready for the sunset cruise. Even though Alex said there’s limited space on the boat, especially for someone like me who has to be off camera at all times, Farrah insisted I have to go.

So I’m wearing cutoff jean shorts and a Ramones T-shirt while helping her plan a much classier outfit. It took more than an hour, but she finally agreed to wear a blue dress with ruffled straps that could either be on or off the shoulder.

“Down,” I say, setting them into place for her.

“I hate the way the show’s makeup artist does my eyes, I want you to do my makeup.”

“Uh...” I glance at my phone. “I can, but we’ll have to hurry.”

“So tell me again what Dalton said about me.”

My heart pounds nervously. Dalton and I agreed that we’d let Farrah assume our walk earlier was about him wanting to know more about her. It seemed like a good idea until she hit me up for full details. Now I’m openly lying to her, which I don’t feel good about.

“I already told you everything. He’s a Midwestern guy. He wants to know about your family and what you’re looking for.”

“Did you tell him my parents are divorced?”

“I think so.”

She balks. “How can you not remember?”

“Sorry.”

“Did you tell him I’d have two kids using a surrogate?”

“Yes.”

“And? Did he seem okay with it?”

It’d absolutely be you.

“Uh, I couldn’t tell.”

“Alice. For fuck’s sake, you’re killing me.”

A distraction. I need to create a distraction. “Should we use that glowy spray stuff on your shoulders and arms?”

“Oh, good idea. Yes. Did I tell you Dalton held every door for me last night and stopped after just a goodnight kiss? I think he’s looking for a wife, Al. He’s being such a gentleman.”

My skin prickles at the mention of the kiss again . Maybe he was just being nice with that compliment earlier. It’s easy to tell someone you wish you could go out with them when there’s no way you can.

“I never realized how sexy hockey players are. All that fighting. I bet he’d fight any guy who even looked at me the wrong way.”

“The glow spray is in my room, I have to go get it.”

“Okay, but hurry. And remember to pack tampons. I’m going to need them.”

“Already did.”

As soon as I get to the hallway, I take a breath and check my phone.

Will: The home health nurse checked on dad for me. He’s good. Went to his therapies today.

Relief courses through me.

Alice: Great. Thanks for letting me know.

Dad is doing okay. That makes it easier to pretend I care about how glowy Farrah’s skin looks.

I go to my room and get the spray. I’m making my way back to Farrah’s room when I see Dalton coming down the open stairway I’m going up. His gaze darkens just slightly as he looks me over.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my pulse is pounding.

“Hey.” He leans over to speak next to my ear in a low tone. “You look sexy as hell in those shorts.”

His words and the warm brush of his breath against my ear send a jolt of electricity from the tip of my spine to the base. I want to respond, but is “thanks” the right thing to say?

We’ve already passed each other when he calls out, “You’re coming tonight, right?”

You’re coming. You’re coming. Oh God, stop it, Alice.

“Yep, I’ll be there!” My voice is an octave too high, but I’m hanging on by a thread here.

I don’t look back, rushing to get to the top of the stairs and around the corner. By the time I get to Farrah’s bedroom, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing an impatient expression.

“I need a Brazilian.”

I close the door. “Um...I can try to get an aesthetician here tomorrow.”

“No, for tonight. My vag is still smooth, but I can’t see around back well enough to know if it’s okay. What if Dalton wants to come back to my room tonight? I can’t have a hairy butthole.”

Lord, give me strength.

“The hair all grows back at the same rate, so if the front’s still smooth, so is the back. I have the glow spray.”

“Will you look? Just to be sure?”

I gape at her. “At your asshole? No fucking way.”

“Come on, Al. You’ve seen it all anyway.”

I laugh, not amused. “I actually haven’t seen you bent over spreading your cheeks, and I don’t want to. This is a Meatloaf moment.”

“For God’s sake. Is that the thing where you’d do anything for love, but you won’t do that?”

“Exactly.” I shake the bottle of spray. “Now let’s do this so I can get your makeup done.”

The superyacht taking us on the sunset cruise is a sailboat, and it’s beautiful. Every surface is bright, gleaming white or sparkling silver. Servers are carrying trays of drinks and appetizers, Alex telling them they have five more minutes before they have to stay off camera.

I’m sitting in the small area reserved for the film crew next to the makeup artist, Giana. Misty Meyers is standing with us, all of us chowing on the appetizers Farrah won’t even touch.

“Little wieners are underrated,” Giana says, holding up a small bacon-wrapped sausage on a stick.

“Depends on how much meat you like,” Misty says.

“Meat’s good,” I muse. “But also, little wieners know how to compensate for their lack of meat, if you know what I mean.”

“That part,” Giana says. “My boyfriend isn’t hung, but that man gives oral like it’s his full-time job. He says it’s how he keeps his beard so soft and supple. By just burying his face in my snatch.”

“Jelly.” Misty sighs.

“What, you’re not into any of these guys?” I ask.

She shrugs. “There’s one guy I like, but he’s got his eye on someone else.”

“Which one?” Giana asks.

Misty looks at me. “It doesn’t matter.”

She doesn’t want me to know. This means it has to be...

“Dalton?” My heart hammers just from saying his name.

She shakes her head.

“Ah. JP.”

“Girl, you’re a catch,” Giana says. “Don’t assume he doesn’t like you. Get over there and try.”

Misty’s smile slides away. “I can’t. I’m not...”

Her gaze is on Farrah, who’s laughing at something JP just said, her perfect white teeth on display.

“Hold up.” I set my plate down, giving her my full attention. “I know I didn’t just hear you saying what you’re not . Because you’re here due to what you are . Smart. Generous. A silver medalist in the damn Olympics. A world-class athlete. A beautiful, strong woman who inspires girls every day.”

She gives me a grateful look. “I know. I’m proud of my accomplishments. But lots of men just want long, lean legs and curves and I’m”--she looks down at her body--“all muscle.”

“You’re stunning, Misty,” Giana assures her. “Ninety-nine plus percent of women could never wear that dress.”

I nod. Misty is wearing a formfitting bright-white dress with a halter neck. It’s a beautiful contrast to her light-brown skin. Her red-framed sunglasses and strappy red sandals are perfect accents.

“Where the hell is Meyers?” Alex yells. “She did get on the boat, right?”

Misty groans. “That’s my cue. Bye, guys.”

She goes over to the rest of the cast, and Alex throws his arms in the air when he sees her.

“Can we finally start filming? We’re already twenty minutes behind.”

I pick up my plate, holding my fork against it so the wind can’t pick up either thing and make noise while the cameras are rolling. There are several camera operators on the boat tonight, all of them working at the same time. There’s limited light and Alex wants to get as much footage as he can.

“Lorenzo!” Alex says. “Can I trouble you to get your ass over here?”

Dalton, who was talking to a production assistant, smiles good-naturedly and walks over to the place Alex wants him. He sits down on the other side of Farrah, sandwiching her between the two athletes.

It occurs to me, then, that in setting up a competition for Farrah between Dalton and JP, Alex has pretty much shut Misty out. She gets airtime, but there’s no one guy the producers seem to be steering her toward.

Dalton and JP start their usual banter, Farrah radiant as they both focus their attention on her. I feel off when I watch Dalton looking at her, his arm slung casually over the seat behind her.

Probably best not to look at him. Our conversation from our walk earlier is still playing on repeat in my head, and so is that hug. It was so much more than a hug, really. It was the first time in forever that a man had held me. I’m always the one doing the caretaking, never the one receiving the care. It felt good to just let go of everything in his arms, even if it was only for a minute.

We walked for an hour and a half, going all the way to the pier and then past it before we turned around. I told him more about my family, and he told me about the single mom who raised him and his sister, a strong Italian woman. I can’t remember the last time anyone listened to me like he did and truly showed interest in what I was saying.

It’d absolutely be you.

I force myself to focus on Misty and Dom, who are talking about music. Dom likes a wide variety of music, which I wouldn’t have guessed. He got his start playing a drum set that was in the back room of a Laundromat his parents bought. While they worked, he played.

“How about you?” he asks Misty. “What made you start gymnastics?”

“I watched the Olympics on TV and knew I wanted to be there someday. I was the only Black girl in my class and the more the other girls made fun of me, the harder I worked.”

Dom holds her gaze, something passing between the two of them.

“That’s badass,” he says. “And look at you now.”

“It took a lot of hard work to get here. It takes even harder work to stay here.”

“Gotta make some time for fun, too, though. You’re too young and beautiful to work all the time.”

Giana pokes me and we exchange a look. I sneak a glance at Dalton and our eyes lock.

Holy shit. He is looking at me.

This is starting to feel dangerous. I can’t pursue a man Farrah’s interested in. Just the thought is laughable.

I look away again, reminding myself what’s at stake.

Everything.

My dad’s care, my parents’ home, even my brother’s career. If I can’t make enough to support our parents, he’ll drop out of medical school so he can help me support them.

I can’t let that happen. There’s too much on the line. A man like Dalton is just a dream for me. Maybe someday I can have that, but not right now.