“A bunch of adoring fans who don’t really know the real you?”
I smack him playfully. “No, silly, dinner tonight is all about people who do know the real me. Tomorrow night is for the fans. What’s wrong with wanting a little of both? If you’re gonna be a pro surfer then you’ll have fans, too.”
“So you’re okay with it now? With me going?”
“Yeah. Now I can say I’m in love with a professional surfer. That has a nice ring to it.”
“Maybe girls will worship me like they do Damian. I’ll be surfing, signing fake boobs, living the dream,” he says with a grin.
And I really don’t like the look of his grin.
At all.
His face turns serious. “So you’re not going to be mad at me when I leave?”
“No, we’ll come up with a plan. Maybe I could take some online classes and go with you. It sorta depends on this movie thing. I didn’t mention it to you, because I didn’t know if anything would come of it, but if it does, we’d have to work around it. But we’ll figure it out. It’s totally doable.”
“Uh,” he starts to say, but my phone buzzes.
I answer it. “Hey, James. What’s up?”
“Where are you right now?” he asks in a snippy voice.
“I told you I was going to Brooklyn’s. I’m still here.”
“I thought you had soccer practice.”
“Oh, yeah, um, I kinda skipped. We took a nap instead. I think I’m still jet lagged or something.”
“You know this whole stalker thing has us all on edge. You can’t just disappear like that.”
“I didn’t disappear. I was sleeping—whatever. I’m on my way back home now.”
I end the call.
“You in trouble? You never get in trouble.”
“That stalker guy sent Mom a letter the other day. Remember, before, I told you how he was pissed at her, told her she was going to pay?”
“Yeah, that’s why they added all the security for the girls.”
“Right. So, the other day she got a note in her purse. He said he was done with her. That he’d moved on and found someone new to love. Probably some hot new actress.”
“Sweet. That’s good, right?”
“James doesn’t seem to think so. He thinks it’s some kind of trick, so she’ll let her guard down.”
“James is pretty intense.”
“Grab your clothes and come home with me. No one will yell at me if you’re there.”
“Pick me something out.”
I run to his closet, grab a pair of faded Diesel jeans and a caramel James Perse T-shirt. “This work?”
“Yep. Don’t forget the Vans.”
“How about these instead?” I point to a pair of gorgeous Rag & Bone suede sneakers. “Have you even worn these yet? Did you buy them just because I liked them?”
He laughs. “Kinda. Bring ‘em. I suppose I shouldn’t go to dinner barefoot.”
I laugh too. “You can wear whatever you want, B. You can go in your board shorts. I wouldn’t care.”
“See I told you. You’re chill. I love that. But, nah. What are you wearing?”
We walk out of his house and down the beach.
“I have this adorable dress for tonight. It’s just summery, casual. But my dress for tomorrow night is downright sexy. And the shoes—oh, B, wait until you see the shoes. They have jewels on them and they’re to die for.”
“Sexy, huh? All your high school boys gonna be drooling?”
“I was kinda hoping it’d have you drooling.”
“I can always see it before you leave.”
My heart drops a little.
No.
It drops a lot.
He’s decided for sure that he’s not to coming to my party. Which makes me feel like he just pulled my heart out of my chest and stomped on it.
“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter. I don’t know what else to say.
Fake feelings.
8:30pm
Dinner is awesome. My favorite food and my favorite people.
Everyone talks about the stalker situation, my party, Millie’s latest contract negotiations, the Lakers, the Morans’ baby girl, Damian’s tour, our summer in Europe, and Mom and Tommy’s new movie.
I get some great presents. A beautiful Louis Vuitton tote from the Morans: a gorgeous necklace from an up-and-coming designer friend of Kym’s, an entire box suite for a Lakers game from Millie and Deron, and a beautiful locket from James with my dad’s photo in it, which I immediately put on as I try not to cry.
My dad’s plane crash happened on August the twelfth, just before my ninth birthday. When I was blowing out the candles on my birthday cake a few days later, Mom told me the smoke trail you see after you blow out your candles is your guardian angel’s way of wishing you happy birthday and that Daddy was in heaven watching over me.
My phone buzzes with a text.
I’ve been bad about replying to texts lately. I didn’t really reply to anyone much this summer. After everything that happened, I just didn’t know what to say. I figured if someone had something that important to tell me then they could call me.