A Little Less than Famous (15 page)

I was definitely wrong. The moment I stepped outside, microphon
es were
shoved in my face and cameras were flashing at me in every direction. Already I was feeling a bit dizzy and I swore there were multicolor spots in every aspect of my vision.

“McKinley, how long have you and Jake been dating?” a voice shouted from somewhere on my left.

“Um, we’re not dating. We’re just friends.”

“McKinley, is it true that Andrea Tremaine is pissed at you?”

“Um, what?” I answered, stupidly.

“McKinley, is it true you’re going to record an album?”

My mouth dropped. “Are you serious right now?”
Where did people get this s
tuff?

“Okay,” Luke said, cutting in. “Time for you to go.” He grabbed my arm and started pulling me through the crowd towards my car.
Somehow,
I managed to get to my car without falling flat on my face. Luke held some of them off as I climbed in.

“Go the long way,” he said, as I rolled down my window to speak to him. I made a face. “Don’t be like that. Just go the long way.”

I sighed. “Okay.” I
rolled my window back up
and drove off, leaving Luke behind to deal with the crazies.

When I came home that night, all the reporters and paparazzi were gone. I sighed with relief and let myself back into the diner. I threw my backpack onto the counter and sunk onto a chair.

“How’re you doing, hmm?” Luke said, coming down the stairs.

“I’m fine, Luke. You know, as long as I wasn’t a feature on ET tonight,” I said, looking up at him.

“Not tonight,” Luke said, cheerfully.
“But probably tomorrow.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered sarcastically under my breath. Suddenly the diner phone rang, echoing loudly in the silence. I picked it up, curiously and glanced at the caller ID. Of course. “Oh, even better!”

“McKinley, it’s Jake. Jake Kennedy.”

I rolled my eyes, grateful that he could not see me. “I know, Jake,” I responded. “What’s going on?”

“I heard you had paparazzi down there tonight. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was kind of weird but it was fine. I lived.”

Jake sighed on the other end. “Yeah well now the cat is out of the bag. Do you know who spilled the beans?”

“I thought it was you, maybe,” I admitted. I saw Luke shake his head and head back upstairs.

“McKinley, of course not,” Jake said, his voice soft. “After last night…”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, fee
ling the heat rush to my cheeks, as I pictured last night, a night of rushed kisses and tangled limbs.
“Enough about last night. I’m sorry that I thought it was you.”

“It’s okay. My publicist’s phone has been ringing off the hook all day. Everyone is dying to know who McKinley Evans is. I’m going to have her release a statement. What do you want me to say…that you’re my girlfriend?”

“No,” I blurted out. I winced at how quickly my response had been. “I mean, crap…can’t you just say we’re just friends?”

“McKinley,” Jake said, impatiently. “Our first picture together is the two of us making out. I think the
just friends
thing will go over as bullshit.
I’ll ask you again, w
hat do you want me to say?”

I paused for a moment. “Can’t you just tell them that we’re dating, having fun, you know? Just don’t say that I’m your girlfriend.”

“Would it be such a bad thing to be known as my girlfriend?”

“I am so not having that conversation with you,” I said, laughing.

“Okay, fine, fine,” Jake said, amusement in his voice. “I do have something to ask you though.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, doodling on one of the order pads on the counter.

“Okay, so next weekend is the Teen Choice Awards and I do have a plus one that I was hoping you would fill.”

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, covering my mouth to muffle the sound. “Seriously, Jake? The Teen Choice awards?”

“I know, its kind of lame,” Jake admitted. “But it can be fun and the gift baskets are usually awesome. And I
am
nominated for a few of those surfboards.” He paused as if waiting for me to answer. I stayed silent. “Come on, McKinley.”

“All right, all right, you convinced me. I’ll go,” I agreed. “But I’m not being forced into some designer dress. Those things are not meant for short girls with curves. I’ll wear one of my own dresses.”

“Um, are you sure?” Jake asked, sounding nervous. “I can set you up with my stylist…”

“Or you could go without a date,” I suggested, lightly. Jake remained silent. “Look, just trust me, okay?”

“All right, fine, I’ll trust you,” he answered. My stomach clenched at the affection in his voice, making me feel so uncomfortable. “So am I going to see you tomorrow? I have to be on set most of the day but after that, we’re golden.”

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me. The whole situation was so unbelievably surreal…I was dating Jake Kennedy. Jake. Kennedy. “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow. Now good night, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Night, McKinley.”

*
             
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*
             
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*

“Is all of this really necessary?” I asked
Wendy
as she
tugged at
my hair. “I mean,
it
’
s just the Teen Choice awards.”

“Oh, honey, I’m just going to leave it the way it is,”
Wendy
said, a twinkle in her eye. She ran her fingers through my long wavy red hair. “Your hair is too beautiful to mess with.”

“Oh stop flattering me,” I said, lifting up a lock of my crazy hair and staring at it.

“No, seriously, women kill for red hair like yours.”

I smirked. “If you say so.
If I’m not in here for my hair, then what am I doing in here?” Wendy
had set up a whole makeup and hair studio in the guest bedroom at Jake’s house. Jake
had ushered me into the room a
s soon as I’d come over.

“It’s for Jake’s sake, really,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s nervous. It’s the first time you two will be appearing in public together and it’s going to be hardest on you. People do tend to judge and he
is
Jake Kennedy.”

I nodded. “It’s going to be fine, seriously. I really don’t care what they think and its not like I’ll be around for very long anyway.”

Wendy
raised her eyebrow at my last statement but didn’t comment on it. Instead she took a healthy sip of her coffee and then clapped her hands together. “All right, lets do your make-up and get you into your dress.”

I nodded, sitting back in my chair. I glanced down at my phone. I had tried calling Amanda earlier. Going to the Teen Choice Awards had actually made me a little nervous and I knew that Amanda would kill to be in my place. I wanted to talk to her. I missed her. I hadn’t heard anything back, and I had been obsessively checking my phone all day.

Once my makeup was finished, I went to the closet and pulled out my dress and removed it from the bag.

“Oh my god, is that…” Wendy
started to say, her eyes wide.

“A 1950s Anne Fogarty
dress
?” I finished for her. “Yes, yes it is.”

“It
’
s gorgeous,” she said, coming over to stand next to me. “Not exactly what one wears to something like this.”

I waved my hand at her. “Whatever, I’ll be unique. I really don’t care. Help me put it on.”

After I had
slipped the dress on and Wendy
had zipped me up, I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was one of my favorites. Though most of my clothes were comfortable, casual, and mostly styles that were current, all my formal clothes and dresses were vintage. They just fit curves so much better than the small dresses that were popular now. This particular one was a classic 1950s navy blue, floral printed party dress. It had a fitted bodice, with thick shoulder straps and a full skirt. I slipped on simple white flats and tossed my head so that my waves fell over my shoulders.

“You look beautiful.”

I turned and looked at Jake standing in the doorway, wearing a navy blazer and a white button up shirt open at the collar paired with dark jeans and boots.

“Thank you,” I said. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He came over to stand next me, the mirror framing us like a picture. “Not something that I usually see at award shows,” he said, looking at me up and down.

“Well, I mean, it’s not a meat dress or anything,” I said, rolling my eyes.

His arm slid around my waist and suddenly I was pressed right up against him. “I wasn’t saying it was a bad thing. I’m tired of seeing the same old dresses at these things. You’re going to make a statement.”

“Hopefully, it’s a good statement,” I said, trying to ignore the amount of heat I was feeling by standing so close to him. I pulled away before I suggested skipping the award show all together. “So what do you say we do this, Jake?”

He laughed. “Yeah, let’s go do this.”

I headed toward the garage, assuming we were taking the Volante, before realizing that Jake was walking towards the front door. We walked outside and that’s when I noticed the stretch limo waiting for us. “Oh, wow,” I said, coming to a halt at the sight of it.

Jake looked down at me. “Haven’t you been in a limo before?”

I shook my head. “My prom date took me to prom in a beat up Mustang where we spent most of the night making out. A
nd I’ve never been in a wedding or anything.”

“Well then let’s go,” he said, offering his arm to me. I smiled, mischievously at him, and walked past him to the limo, where the door was being held open by the driver. I heard Jake laughing behind me as he climbed in behind me.

The drive to th
e Gibson Amphitheatre in Universal City
wasn’t a very long drive, only about a half hour away from Jake’s house but we spent the entire time in silence. My palms were starting to sweat, I was getting so nervous. Then I would get angry with myself for getting nervous. I never got nervous; being nervous was not a feeling that I was familiar
with. I always felt in control;
I always felt that no matter the situation, I knew the outcome because I had the upper hand. I kept reminding myself that these people had nothing to do with me, that their opinion meant nothing. Then I would picture thousands of cameras pointed in my direction, microphones shoved in my face, and my nervousness would come rushing back.

I think Jake could tell that I was nervous but didn’t want to talk to so he kept quiet, only breaking the silence once to turn on some music. I smiled. Ben Wright. If there was anything that was going to calm my nerves down, it was the soothing sound of Ben Wright. I resisted the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my dress and leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes, trying to clear my mind. I was feeling calmer when I felt Jake’s hand brush mine, fingers interlacing. Butterflies erupted in my stomach and I immediately pulled my hand back. “Not helping,” I said, more sharply than I meant to.

Jake’s eyes met mine and I hoped that my apology about my sharpness got through to him. I had a hard enough time actually saying the words. He smiled. “It’s going to be fine, seriously. A piece of cake. Just follow me and it’ll be over before you know
it
.”