I pull my suit back up. "Kind of. Assistant stage manager."
He laughs and gestures for me to turn around so he can zip me up. "So you're used to dealing with moody actors, then?"
"It's what I live for." I clip my cape back into place and turn to him. "And just in case you need further help in dealing with your feelings for Cassie, she can recommend a great therapist. Don't be ashamed to ask."
He holds out his hand, and I shake it. "Thanks, Josh. You're all right. Now, what about your girl troubles? Is there anything I can do to help you out?"
"No, but if you see me on the news up on charges for murdering a handsome asshole named Julian Norman, you were with me all night, okay?"
He nods and smiles. "Definitely."
After he leaves, I check my reflection in the mirror. Okay, so at least I don't look like a crazy-jealous freak anymore. Now, if I could just stop behaving like one, that would be great.
FIVE
Overdue Reunion
When I come out of the bathroom, I press Angel's number and try to stay calm as it rings. I wander toward the end of the hallway, hoping the noise will stay back in the ballroom. On the fourth ring, Angel picks up.
"Josh?"
"Hey." Okay, good start. Now, make some small talk. "So, I got the pictures. Seems Julian ended up coming after all, huh? What’s that all about?" Or, just dive straight into the issue. Whatever. Idiot.
"Yeah. His press thing finished early, so he made it just in time."
"I'm so glad." I'm trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I know I'm not succeeding. "It's great that you two are so comfortable around each other. You know, with the touching, and hugging, and sitting on his lap."
There's a moment's silence, then Angel says, "Josh ... please tell me you're not freaking out over Julian."
I clench my fist. "Of course not. Why would I? Just because he's always around and looks at you like you're an incandescent Goddess. Why would that worry me?"
"Oh, come on. We're friends. That's it."
I lean back against the wall and clench my jaw. "His hands are all over you in those pictures. I don't think he sees you as just a friend, Angel."
"So? He could have his bedroom wallpapered with my photos of my ass for all I care. I don't like him that way. I like you."
I push off the wall and walk to the end of the hallway, trying to keep my voice steady. "So you're admitting he likes as more than a friend?"
"God, I don't know. Maybe. He's said a few things that were ... flirty, I guess.
I stop in the doorway to what looks like a library and exhale. "Are you fucking serious?"
"It was harmless." She's speaking to me like I'm a child. It's not helping.
"What did he say?"
"Josh –"
"Angel, tell me." I grip the doorjamb as I wait for her reply.
"Jeez, I can't even remember. I said something about looking like a three-day-old corpse first thing in the morning, and he made a crack that if I'm the standard for corpses these days, he'd have to rethink his stance on necrophilia. It was stupid. A joke."
She's right, it was stupid. And gross. Doesn't make me want to punch him any less. "What else?"
She sighs. "He says flirty stuff all the time, but that's just how he is. He tells all the women how beautiful they are. Barb in makeup got a bunch of flowers just like the ones he sent me, so you can't read too much into that. Barb's a hundred and sixty, for God's sake."
I stand up straight and curl my hand into a fist. "He sent you—" I look at the ceiling and pray for calm. "He sent you flowers?"
"Josh –"
"When?"
"A few days ago. I was down and missing you. He tried to cheer me up."
"I'll bet." I have this guy's number. He wants to cheer her up by rubbing his cock all over her vagina. Sneaky, duplicitous bastard. "Did all of this happen after I left?"
She pauses. "Uh ... yeah, I guess. I wasn't really paying attention."
I shake my head, and I'm clenching my jaw so hard the muscles ache. I thought he was a decent guy, but it seems he was just saving his Master Plan of Epic Douchery for when I wasn't around. “Fucking bastard.”
"Josh, it's no big deal. Really."
"Yes, it goddamn is, and I want you to stay the fuck away from him."
"What?" She takes a breath, and so do I. When she speaks again, it's clear she's pissed. "What did you just say to me?"
"You heard me." I'm pissed, too. If I were standing on the outside looking in, I'd say I was being an overbearing prick. But in the eye of this storm of insecurity and jealousy, my demands seem perfectly reasonable. "I don't want you spending time with a guy who clearly wants to fuck you."
"Josh, he's my co-star. I get paid to spend time with him."
"Not off set, you don't."
Her tone turns steely when she says, "He's a friend."
I walk into the library and pace near the window. "No, he's not, Angel. He's a douchebag who thinks you're batting below your average and is dying to swoop in to save you from your inferior boyfriend. How can you not see that?"
"He can't steal me, Joshua,” she says, her voice getting harder. “I'm not a fucking object."