One Day His (The Someday Series Book 2) (11 page)

Okay, so I guessed I was the one who needed to tell myself to ‘stand down.’ Honestly, I couldn’t believe I was so hard. Cat and I had not only had sex in the shower, truck, and room yesterday, but we’d also made love twice since we’d gone to bed. I had always enjoyed having sex on a regular basis, but this was even record setting for me. The more I was with Cat, the more I
wanted
Cat. That was also a new experience for me. Usually, after I’d been with a girl a handful of times, I was less interested in her. Ready to move on. But damn, I didn’t think I could ever get enough of Cat.

Cat and I silently moved around each other as we got ready like a couple that had been together for years, anticipating each other’s routine. Cat always amazed me with the proficiency with which she was able to go through all of the girly requirements of getting ready in the morning or for a special night out. Of course, she didn’t go crazy with the makeup and the complicated hair like a lot of girls did. But still, in ten minutes flat, she looked more gorgeous and put together than most girls did when they spent an hour and a half in the mirror messing with their appearance.

Although Cat was not a girl anyone in their right mind would describe as “chatty”—unless she was nervous—I did notice that she was unusually quiet this morning. I asked her what was wrong, several times, and she always said that it was nothing—but I didn’t quite believe her. Something about her demeanor was more reticent than it usually was, more nervous—and that was even counting all of the nerve-racking things she had been through in the past couple of days.

Shit,
I thought.
I wonder if she is nervous to bring me along today.
I mean, the press and all the entertainment industry people that are going to be around—maybe I’m a little too rough around the edges for her to feel comfortable having me in that environment.

Still, the reality was even if that was the case—which would hurt like a son of a bitch—I realized that I was here in Los Angeles for one reason and one reason only—to support Cat. I needed to do whatever it would take to make her comfortable, even if that meant removing myself from the equation.

“Hey, babe,” I started as I wrapped my arms around her from behind. “You know, I don’t have to go along on all this stuff today. If you’d rather just go by yourself, you don’t need to worry about my feelings. I’m fine.”

Her head snapped around to look at me with true panic in her eyes. “You don’t want to go?” Her voice was tight and scared.

I was quick to correct her. “No, I
want
to go. Are you kidding? I want to be by your side every second of every minute of every day, especially down here. But I thought you might be a little uncomfortable with me tagging along. I know that these aren’t exactly my kind of people. I wanted to let you off the hook if that was what was going on.”

She shook her head as she let out an exasperated sigh. “Believe me. They aren’t my kind of people either. Sorry if I’ve been quiet this morning, it has nothing to do with you, I promise. I’m just really nervous about today. Press and I are like oil and water. You know how I hate being the center of attention or having any attention on me. Really. I’m just trying to get my mindset strong so that I can get through it. And I honestly don’t know if I could do it without you by my side. Seriously. Don’t scare me like that.”

I smiled and tightened my arms around her. “Where you want me, that’s where I’m gonna be. That’s my job for the next few days. Just think of me as your personal bouncer. Your bodyguard.”

She laughed and her expression brightened. “You’re my emotional bodyguard. You’re protecting me from metaphorical bullets instead of literal ones.”

I pulled her even closer to me. “Whatever kind of bodyguard I am, I just know that I’m gonna protect you. Nothing could stop me from doing that.”

I heard the door open behind us and turned to see who it was. It was Jerry, back again to usher us down to the car. Damn, Cat was right. Fifteen minutes on the dot. I looked at Cat. Her face was tight, but her eyes were determined. So I took her hand and squeezed it to remind her that I was right there beside her and would be all day.

Cat

In a zoo

Caged

Lovely gilded

Bars

I can always feel

Eyes of strangers boring into me

Judging

Looking at my life and

Wishing they were me

If they knew

If they only knew

The untold story, the real deal

Sometimes, I want to blurt out my truth

But then they would judge me more

Not jealous, but harsh, thinking I am

Ungrateful

Cat Nichols, Age 15

I
sat in
the green room backstage with Jace and fidgeted nervously. I was so uncomfortable in this environment. Talk shows were all about…well…
talking
to people, and that wasn’t my forte. If the whole talking thing had been limited to the participants in the show, that would have been one thing, but it certainly wasn’t. Daytime talk shows, in my experience, were the worst of the bunch.

Everyone, from the host to the studio audience to the guests and (most applicable to me) the members of the guest’s entourage, was expected to maintain this super-upbeat, fakey-happy, high-energy demeanor I just did
not
have the capability to pull off. Or the willingness, really, but that was a moot point since I wouldn’t have known how to do it even if I had wanted to.

Jace took my hand and intertwined his fingers in mine. I looked over at him, gratefully, drawing strength from the subtle but encouraging squeeze he gave me. He had been holding up his promise of serving as my emotional bodyguard very well over the course of the morning.

He leaned forward and kissed me on my forehead, which was #26 on the new and improved list. “How you doing?” he asked in a low, even voice.

I sighed and closed my eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over me like a cool breeze on a hot day.

When I opened my mouth to respond, I was interrupted by Jerry, who was sitting on the opposite couch, typing into his iPhone as usual. “She’ll be fine,” he barked.

I lifted my gaze to Jace and smiled weakly. His aqua-blue eyes stared back at mine and I knew that he saw me—really
saw
me. Every second I spent in LA, I felt like I was losing myself just a little bit more. Clarity hit me and I knew that I just needed to hang on to Jace. He was the thing that could anchor me. He was the little piece of Arcata, of the new-and-improved Cat Nichols, that I could carry with me while we were here.

“Okay, we’re ready for you,” a brusque voice sounded from the doorway.

I looked up to see one of the associate producers, a tall and imposing woman who had introduced herself not long after we had arrived. I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. She just stood holding her clipboard. Finally, she forced a very tight smile that was clearly a struggle. When she spoke again, her voice was still cheerful, but it bore the weight of the same tightness that was coming through in her smile as she stared directly at me.

“Do you want a written invitation? I said we’re ready for you.”

I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure that I was, in fact, the one that she was speaking to. Just as I’d feared, no one was at the buffet table behind me. It was only Jace, Jerry, and me in the room.

“Me?” I turned back around. “Do you mean
me
?”

The smile tightened further. “Unless Angelica James has
another
daughter that’s in this room. I certainly wasn’t talking about the potted plant.”

Oh, God. When people got angry or frustrated with me—or condescending or impatient—it just makes me freeze up more. My cheeks started to burn. I felt like I had to say something, but I knew that, as soon as I opened my mouth, nothing intelligent was going to come out of it.

“But…I…I…was just supposed to… I’m not… You know…”

“No. I don’t, actually. All I
know
is that the show starts in five and I need you in your seat in the studio audience.”

“I’m not… I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” came Jerry’s hard voice, “and you will, because it’s what you’re here for.”

I felt Jace stiffen beside me and I quickly turned towards him. I could see from his intense posturing that he was getting ready to get into an argument with Jerry to defend my right to not have to go into the studio audience if I didn’t want to, and I certainly didn’t want that to happen. The last thing I wanted was for there to be a scene. I needed Jace in my corner, as my “emotional bodyguard” in the sense that his very presence protected me internally from being as stressed out as I normally would have been in these situations, but I certainly didn’t want him getting into actual arguments on my behalf. That would just make everything worse and draw more attention, which would be my own living nightmare.

Placing my hand over Jace’s, I pasted on my best fake smile. “It’s fine,” I said brightly. I focused on making my voice extremely cheerful. I really needed to sell this in order to calm Jace down and get out of here in time to avoid what could quickly spiral into a nasty confrontation. “I promise. I just didn’t realize I was going out in the audience for this one. But Jerry is right. This is what I came here for. I’ll be fine. Really, baby. It’ll be fine.”

Jace seemed far from convinced, but he didn’t protest as I stood up and followed the clipboard-carrying woman down the hall. She walked at a brisk clip, and with the disparity between the lengths of our legs, I actually had to trot a little bit to keep up with her. If she noticed, she didn’t show it. She certainly didn’t slow down.

Entering the studio, I noticed an immediate drop in temperature. It was probably around fifty degrees in here. I shivered as I took the seat that clipboard woman indicated, smiling politely at the middle-aged women in matching T-shirts that surrounded it. They were clearly from somewhere far away from Los Angeles and here on vacation as evidenced by their excited chattering and how amazed and impressed they were by all of the behind-the-scenes goings-on that were happening around us as the show was prepared. Everything from the cameras to the lights and the omnipresent wires and cords that were never shown on the television screen but dominated a television set—each and every one of these novelties was amazing to them.

The ‘old me’ would have shrunk from their enthusiasm, fearing that I would be dragged into a conversation, which would then lead to a situation where I should know the right thing to say but didn’t. The ‘new me’ was drawn to their enthusiasm and thought that they seemed like nice ladies, so I took the very big (for me) social step of smiling at them, which I knew created the possibility of being included in their conversation. I was right.

“Hi, honey. Where are you from?” the woman sitting next to me to the left, wearing a fanny belt and bright-red lipstick, asked.

“I’m actually from around here,” I responded. It was surprisingly easy. “I’m from Malibu.”

“Oh, my! Just like the beach Barbie!” exclaimed the woman on my right, who had a lovely combination of blue and green eye shadow on her eyes.

“Where are you ladies from?”

“Nebraska. About an hour outside Omaha. We’re college roommates, been friends for thirty years. This trip to Hollywood is our dream girls’ getaway.”

I lit up. “Oh, how fun. I love my college roommates! I hope we’re still friends in thirty years!”

Thinking of Evelyn and the Andy Girls, Sandy and Brandy, made me feel sad and…homesick. I missed them so much. I missed school. I missed Arcata. I’d never been homesick before. I guessed it was because I’d never left my home, and even if I had, I doubt I would have missed it. Thankfully, I had Jace here. If not, I don’t think I would be surviving this.

“Oh, honey, you will be if you want to. It just takes effort.”

I nodded solemnly and made a decision, then and there, to put in the effort. It would be worth it. Which reminded me, I owed each of them a text. All three of them had sent me several messages since I left Arcata that I’d yet to respond to. Things just happened too quickly around here. I felt like I was treading water in an attempt not to drown.

“So, who do you think is going to be on the show today?” the first woman whispered conspiratorially.

See, here was yet another situation where I was handling things quite a bit differently than I would’ve before. The ‘old me’ would have simply shrugged, not wanting to commit to an answer or be asked further questions. However, the ‘new me’ figured—why not? Why not give these ladies a little thrill? Hollywood was their
dream
girls’ getaway, after all. They’d probably appreciate a little brush with a celebrity, even if it was only secondhand.

“Angelica James,” I answered in a hushed tone. “Don’t tell anybody though. She’s a surprise guest.”

The women’s eyes widened in delight. The first lady’s jaw dropped and she whispered excitedly, “We love her! We see all of her movies. Is she really going to be on today? Is she really going to be here?”

I smiled. “She’s already here. She’s backstage.”

They both gasped after which they asked in unison, “How do you know?”

I grinned broadly and leaned in closer. “I’m her daughter,” I confided.

The woman to my right began fanning her hands frantically as the other hopped up and down in her seat, both barely able to contain themselves. It made me feel good to be able to brighten their day. It also gave me confidence. I started to think that maybe I would be able to navigate the rest of this day without too much trouble, after all.

I doubted that I was ever going to become the kind of person who really enjoyed conversations with strangers or struck them up on my own. At the core, I still was a true introvert, after all. But I was beginning to get the idea that perhaps a lot of the things I had thought of as my crippling social awkwardness—the stuttering and babbling, for instance—were actually more the products of my constant anxiety from being judged and criticized rather than the products of my innate introversion. I hoped so. If that were true, that meant that the rest of my life would be a lot easier. It meant that, if I could truly learn to relax and have confidence in myself, conversations with strangers—while they would never be the most comfortable thing that I would do in my life—would at least be navigable and maybe even (slightly) enjoyable.