Jennifer is throwing me a party—a party for taking my top off in front of a camera—and I finally see why she handed me over to Dad. I mean, I appreciate it and all, and it’s thanks to her that I’ve found something I love doing, but it’s a bit weird since she’s my mum.
Peyton and her mum are still back in England, so her support right now has never been so appreciated. Dad will be coming here. He wants to speak to Jennifer, and I don’t think it’s going to be for a general catch-up.
Jennifer has a full set of serving staff on hand and three chefs. Three. For thirty people! I made her keep it small because I don’t want a party, but the staff is overkill.
Whatever happened to ordering in pizza and everyone helping themselves to drinks?
Heaven forbid a guest of hers has to pour liquid in a glass. Can’t have that now.
But this is how she does things, so I can deal.
Peyton is sitting on my bed, swirling neat Jack Daniel’s around in a tumbler, and I’ve been watching her be off in her own world for the last ten minutes.
“So…what’s wrong with you?” I ask. She goes to shake her head, but I add, “And don’t tell me you’re fine.”
“Ugh. I guess it’s being back home. I miss it. I miss people who are real and genuine. Maybe it’s just me, but everyone in that industry seems to be out for themselves.”
“I thought you made good friends with a couple of your costars?”
“I have, and they’re both great, but one has been killed off, so I rarely see her, and Marissa’s dating this new guy, so she’s been busy.”
“You don’t want to date anyone?”
She shrugs and then takes a huge gulp of whiskey, scrunching her nose up as it burns. “I’m open to it, but I’ve not met anyone that I want to take things further with. It’s not about having a boyfriend though. I just want strong relationships, like I had here.”
“Have, bitch. I’m not going anywhere.”
Laughing, she blows me a kiss. “I know you’re not. Wish you lived in LA.”
Me, too.
“Are you planning on staying there after the next season is wrapped up?”
“No, we’ll definitely move back. But that’s eight months away.”
“Eight months isn’t long.”
“It’s not. I’m being stupid.”
“You’re not. Hey, maybe I can come out there for a few weeks here and there. We could hang out when you’re off, and I could celebrity-stalk while you film. Win-win.”
“Make it happen! Now, let’s go downstairs. We’re being rude.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re out of JD.”
“And you finished your wine. I want some of that now, so move it, Tex!”
Downstairs is buzzing with activity. Everyone is chatting and laughing. Soft music is playing in the background. Classy fairy lights make gorgeous decoration to Jennifer’s stunning house. It couldn’t be more different from the after-parties I went to with Kitt, Milo, and Coop. This party isn’t me, but the people here wouldn’t like rock, shots, and dirty dancing.
Dirty dancing in a cage.
I tug the collar of my top.
“Rosè, Tex?”
“Please,” I reply to Peyton.
It’d better be ice cold because I’m feeling hot. I miss the way Kitt makes me feel and the things he does to me. I miss everything.
Don’t think about it. You. Are. Fine.
“Texas! There you are. Derek is here, and he has some exiting news!”
“They want me?”
She squeals. “You’re going to be the face of Whitney Blake’s clothing line! She loves your look.”
“That’s amazing!” I wonder if Mum knows that Whitney slept with Dad.
“Tex, that’s awesome. We need to celebrate again!” Peyton hands me my wine. “To my supermodel best friend.”
I nudge her arm. “Thanks, loser.”
Jennifer laughs. “I’m very proud of you.”
I kind of am, too. Soon, I’ll be earning my own money. When I buy something, I’ll know it’s because of me. I never understood how good that felt before. I raise my glass with Jennifer and Peyton.
An hour later, the party is in full swing. There’s about twenty more people than I expected, but I don’t care.
Jennifer is tipsy and telling everyone who will listen—which is everyone since they seem to want to please her—about how proud she is and how well I’m already doing in the industry. It’s a little embarrassing, yes, but this has never happened before. The parental pride has always come from dad. I like this from Mum.
There, I admitted it. I like it when my mum’s proud, and I want a relationship with her. Dad has always been enough, but having them both is indescribable.
Peyton slaps my arm, takes my wine glass, and nods to the door. My eyes widen when I see Dad strolling inside, followed by Kitt.
Dad’s eyes settle on me, and he points to the door. “I think you should get in the car now, Texas. We’re leaving.”
My face falls.