“He was my favorite,” she said, disappearing behind a glassy-eyed stare. “That boy’s mouth.”
A horrified expression crossed Reid’s face while I sent him a judgmental stare. “You’re literally every publicist’s nightmare. Not only are we lying to the press but now we have a sexually frustrated grandmother we have to please?”
“There is no pleasing her.” Reid knocked back a glass of whiskey. “Believe me. At one point I thought trying it would be the only way to escape.”
“And?” I crossed my arms.
“I ended up taking her Xanax and threatening to kill myself if she didn’t release me from her clutches.”
“No way.” I fought to hold in my laugh. “So what happened?”
“She called my bluff . . . and her pills weren’t labeled correctly. Apparently Grandma likes to get high—a lot. They were . . . happy pills, and for thirty minutes I thought I was a mama eagle training my eaglets to take flight. Oh, and by training I mean I was under the impression I needed to show by example.”
Max came up and slapped him on the back. “He tried to jump off the roof.”
I gasped.
“Chill with the hero worship.” Max shrugged. “It was ten feet. Home skillet would have been just fine.”
“Where’s the damn waiter?” Grandma shouted. Somehow the wine bottle was empty, and her lips were red. She was the antivampire—the picture you showed children in order to get them to realize vampires weren’t cool but terrifying and covered with liver spots.
“So . . .” Max squeezed Reid’s shoulder. “Do you concede?”
Reid’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched in a hard line. “Never.”
Max lifted a glass into the air. “Then shall we toast?”
Reid slammed his glass against Max’s. “May the best man win.” At this point I was a bit confused as to what winning entailed. It almost seemed like it was more of a competition between how long Reid could torture Max before he broke. After all, Reid and I were still in a situation where we had to pretend to be in a relationship, so really all Reid had accomplished with his silly taunt was keeping Max from sex for a few extra months.
“He already has,” Max offered in a bored tone. “Trust me, a few weeks of trying to tame this one—” He paused and offered an apologetic smile. “No offense, small fry, but when I went through your stuff, I didn’t even find red underwear. It wouldn’t hurt you to try to look sexy, just sayin’.” He shifted his eyes to Reid while I was ready to scratch his eyes out. “And you’ll back down, they always do. At least until this whole media storm blows over. You guys will have had some good times, right? Playing house while living in hell.” He chuckled.
Reid let out a bitter laugh. “Please, all I have to do is make everyone believe I care about her. How hard can it be?”
Something inside me snapped. It’s not like Reid owed me anything. I mean, for the most part I was semi in his debt, but hearing his lack of interest from his lips still made me flinch and my heart skip with disappointment.
Because he was gorgeous.
And even though I was no longer invisible to him.
I’d turned into something else much worse.
A game.
A means to an end.
And I knew it would end. He’d walk away happy as a clam, successful, rich, even more famous. And I’d still be lonely, at home with my dog and my plant. I needed to stop focusing on what I’d be losing and think about what I’d be gaining.
More money.
I knocked back more wine.
A promotion.
Someone filled up my glass again.
An impeccable reputation!
More chugging.
“I like her,” Max whispered. “She drinks when she freaks out. Does she know any party tricks?”
I ignored his jab and met Reid’s stare. “We’ve got this.”
He reached for my hand and squeezed. “Of course we do.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
REID
Of course, as life—or the universe—would have it, the minute the words of course we do left my mouth, a few cameras went off.
Several screams followed.
And to save time and the embarrassment of retelling the story and suffering through it for a second time, I’ll condense.
Grandma’s shirt flew off, landing on Jason’s head.
Midtoss, the shirt grazed the candle, landing near Jason’s hand and causing second-degree burns.
Max, trying to be helpful, threw wine in Jason’s general direction.
Jason, before the wine could reach him, stopped, dropped, and rolled. This is where I pause the story and say, kids, Jason made the right choice in this situation, and at any other time we’d be talking about the importance of fire safety.
What Jason didn’t know was that Grandma had used the commotion as a way to slink under the table and make her way on all fours in my direction.
Jason landed on her.
Her wig covered her face.
She felt man.
And just went for it.
Let’s pause again. An on-fire Jason is being held down by a freakishly strong elderly woman with smeared lipstick and a thirst that can’t be quenched.
Oh, and there are cameras.
Somehow, Milo managed to grab Grandma before anything illegal and not very biblical took place.