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“THAT GIRL IS GOING to be the death of me,” I said to Harper.
“Or the beginning of you,” Harper said. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see how today goes before we come to that conclusion. Now, listen to me—I wanted to see you before you left for a reason.”
She leveled me with a glance.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked. “Because after Hunter is finished sussing out Pepper and after you send her home? I think he’s going to try to strike a deal today. In fact, if he wants this—which he’d be a fool not to want—I don’t think he has a choice but to finalize this today. And you need to be prepared for that.”
“I’m absolutely prepared for that to happen,” I said.
“Good. Here’s what you need to know about Hunter Steele—he’s as quick as he is slick, and handsome. He’ll start out by lowballing you—but when he goes there, shut him down and be prepared to walk, because that’s the best way to deal with him and his ego. When he realizes that he has no choice but to accept the seven figures we’re seeking, confirm that figure and the terms on CAA’s standard preliminary agreement, hand it to him, and have him sign it. If he does, legal will follow through with the official contract tomorrow.”
I took a deep breath, steeled myself, said that I’d see Harper soon—and I left the room to take Pepper to SoHo, which is where The Terrible Teens was shot, in a stunning, two-story loft on the corner of Prince and Broadway.
* * *
I COACHED PEPPER AS we drove downtown in the limousine.
“Pepper, here’s what I need from you as we go into this meeting with Hunter Steele,” I said.
“My fame?” she said flippantly. “My millions upon millions of followers? Because as far as I’m concerned, that’s all you need from me, Julia.”
We were sitting across from one another, the city was roaring past us, the sun was shining on what otherwise was a beautiful May day, and yet this girl was darkening it. “I need a bit more than that.”
“You mean like me being polite to Hunter—because nobody in this industry wants to work with somebody who’s difficult? I know how to handle myself, Julia. I’ve gone to the best prep schools, I’ve read the trades since I was, like, eight, and I know exactly how to handle myself today.”
Had I been this savvy when I was fourteen? Not even close. When I was Pepper’s age, I was considered a “late bloomer” because I’d started my period when I was fourteen. Back then, I’d been awkward-looking as hell, particularly since at that age, I’d had a mouth full of braces and my share of zits. I also hadn’t been raised by billionaires, as Pepper had. Instead, I’d come from a perfectly normal home in Hartford, Connecticut. My mother owned a pastry shop. My father taught science at Bulkeley High School. I took care of my younger brother when I got home from school, I did my homework at night, and I pretty much had no social life, because back in the day? I also was chubby, I was shy, and I was told too often by my mother and my aunts that “one day, if you pray very hard to the good Lord above, there’s a slim chance that you might grow into your looks. Praise to Jesus—amen.”
I looked at Pepper.
“Just try to charm any professional who is working behind the scenes on that set, from Hunter to the director to the producers and straight down to whoever is in charge of the lighting and catering. Because you’re right—not one of them is going to want to work with anyone they perceive as difficult. That said, they do want you to be difficult on camera, so what you’re going into is a tricky balancing act.”
“Not really,” she said. “All I need to do is to serve it up with class for the working class, and then show what I can bring to the show when I meet my future castmates. And let’s just hope the first person I meet is Lexi Reynolds. If that slut is there, trust me on this—she’ll be straight in my crosshairs.”
I’d seen the show enough times to know that Lexi Reynolds had become its breakout star—something Pepper would clearly like to crush if she got the job.
“What’s your beef with Lexi Reynolds?” I asked, already knowing what it was but still wanting to hear her say it. Pepper would never admit that she hated her because Lexi was beyond popular. She’d spin it some other way.
“Here’s what I hate about Lexi,” Pepper said. “She’s a ghetto, backstabbing bitch. While I expect her to come at me today because my fame alone will threaten her, for the most part, she doesn’t have the balls to tell you what she thinks of you to your face. She’s a pussy. I despise pussies. And as I think you’ve already figured out by now, I’m far from being one myself, as Lexi will find out if she decides to come for me. Worse, Lexi is a poseur. She calls herself rich because her parents have a few million bucks in the bank. But can we just get real here? I mean, please! A few million defines rich? Bitch doesn’t even know what rich is. If I get this gig—and when she and I land on screen together? It’s going to be the sort of oil and vinegar that turns into a volcano. And by the way, that’s ratings gold.”
* * *
WHEN WE ARRIVED AT our destination, Pepper and I both reached inside our handbags and removed our compacts and a tube of lipstick. When we were finished brightening our makeup, I looked over at her and saw the disappointment in her eyes.
“Your makeup is a wreck,” she said. “If you’re going to be my agent, I can’t have you looking like that. So, one day soon, you and I need to get together for a private sesh. Because that shit?” she said as she twirled her index finger in the air around my face. “That shit is just wrong.”
“What’s wrong with my makeup?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Julia—maybe just about everything. I mean, have you ever heard of contouring?”
“I have, but I don’t know how to do it.”
Her face genuinely softened when I said that, which suggested to me that Pepper was more complicated than I knew at this point in our relationship. Was she a decent person at heart?
To be revealed . . .
“Look,” she said as she placed her hand on my knee. “Today, I’m going to give you a total newbie pass when it comes to your makeup, because contouring is pretty much an art that few know how to do. But beyond that, Julia, you’re hot as hell, OK? Banging body. Great tits. Amazing bone structure. Good hair, a pretty fab ass, and you totally know how to dress, which is a bonus. But with the right makeup, you could be so much hotter! Whatevs. I’ll get my hands on your face soon enough and show you what you really could look like. As for now, let’s just do this shit, because neither of us wants to be late.”
“I’ll agree with you there,” I said as the driver swung open Pepper’s door and she stepped out onto the sunny, bustling sidewalk. I followed behind her and was glad to be back in SoHo again, because I loved this neighborhood’s vibe. It was one of the last hip, trendy, youthful areas of New York. Within blocks of us were Prada, Bloomingdale’s, Armani Exchange, Hugo Boss, H&M, Sephora, Banana Republic, MAC Cosmetics, Michael Kors, and the like. All of them catered to the teens and twentysomethings of the world, and as I turned to the gorgeous building we were about to enter, I saw with a start that the area also catered to something else. Right in front of me was a Victoria’s Secret. In this building. On the ground level.
Seriously? I thought.
“Did you know about this?” I said, pointing at the store.
“Um, hello—the girls shop here all the time on the show! Have you even seen the show?”
“Not all of it, but most of it. But that’s beside the point. You girls are, like, what? Fifteen, sixteen years old max? What are you doing shopping at Victoria’s Secret?”
“Julia, I’ve been giving blow jobs since I was, like, twelve. And I’m pretty sure the other ‘ladies’ we’re about to meet up with have been doing that as much as I have, because that’s what the boys expect these days. Hello? The twenty-first century struck years ago! Catch up with the times, Julia!”
She cocked her head at me.
“When was the last time you were even in a Victoria’s Secret?” she asked. “I mean, are you even seeing anyone? And if you are, don’t you wear super sexy things for him? Because you should. And I need to know the deets.”
I hadn’t been with anyone since Michael, a disastrous relationship that had ended four years ago. We’d lasted for a little more than a year, which was about four months too long. But because the sex was so off the charts, we’d both selfishly hung in there until our relationship finally collapsed due to his sexist, controlling behavior.
“What you need to do is follow me,” I said as we approached the building’s entrance, which was framed with a double set of mahogany doors. “We meet Hunter Steele now.”
* * *
WHEN WE STEPPED INTO the loft and a young woman asked if she could help us, the first thing I felt when she retrieved Hunter for us was abject betrayal.
Why hadn’t Harper told me exactly how hot this man is? I thought with a quickening heart as Hunter Steele walked across the loft’s lush, stylish living space to greet us with a smile that was as broad as the map of America. Watching him move toward us, I was dumbstruck. Yes, she’d said that he was handsome, but not some kind of sex god. Why had she sent me into this blind? Was it because she was a self-proclaimed lipstick lesbian and never considered these sorts of things when it came to men? Was that why she hadn’t tipped me off that Hunter Steele was so ridiculously sexy and good-looking that he could set bras on fire for reasons that had nothing to do with feminism? That he was exactly my type of man?
Because he was—at least when it came to his looks.
The first level of the loft was so large, it took Hunter several moments to come from one side of the room to the other, where we stood waiting for him. And as Hunter came toward us, I drank him in, dissecting him like a lab experiment.
He stood at least six foot three; his thick, dark, wavy hair was cut close at the sides; his shoulders were so broad, I knew he must have played football in high school or college; he had a waist that was so tapered, my eyes couldn’t help but follow it down to the real exclamation point in the room—Hunter’s bulging crotch. In his tight-fitting Levi 501s, the length of his package was literally moving from left to right in ways that suggested that he was completely happy to lose the underwear and go commando.
Because when it came to him? There clearly was no shame in doing that.
“Hey,” he said in a disarmingly deep voice as he came up to us with his right hand extended. “I’m Hunter,” he said. “You must be Pepper and Julia.”
We each shook his massive right hand and introduced ourselves.
No ring on his finger, but is there a plus-one in the wings? Probably. Because there’s no way in hell that this man is single—unless he’s a player.
“It’s nice to meet you, Pepper,” he said as he took a step back and smiled at her. “Congratulations on your YouTube videos, and for building such a massive social media following. Anyone who works in this business knows that couldn’t have been easy to accomplish. You must have worked very hard for it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Steele,” she said politely. “It was hard work—but I like hard work, so it was worth it.”
Perfect answer . . .
When Pepper turned to look around the space, Hunter faced me. And when he did? I caught his gaze sweeping the length of my body as he soaked me in for a heated moment before he checked himself.
“Julia,” he said as our eyes met, “thanks for coming today to introduce me to Pepper.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I said, feeling myself flush. “Thanks for having us, Mr. Steele.”
“It’s Hunter,” he said. “I hate formalities.”
Apparently, you hate formalities as much as you hate wearing underwear. Not that I mind . . .
He clapped his hands.
“How about if I show you around the loft before we sit down and get to know one another better?” he said. “Since we start shooting next week, everyone here is gearing up to go through this season’s storyline. Pepper, you’ll be happy to know that all of the girls are here and eager to meet you.”
“And I can’t wait to meet them,” she said.
When she said that, I was surprised that horns didn’t thrust out of her forehead and her teeth didn’t turn into knives. But they didn’t. Instead, my girl looked alert and engaged. At the age of fourteen, she was an absolute professional and doing everything by the book.
“First off, the loft has two stories, as you can see,” Hunter said as he looked up and stretched his hands high above him. When he did so, the white T-shirt he was wearing lifted up and exposed a serious set of six-pack abs with a tiny line of dark hair that reached down to embrace his crotch.
Kind of like I want to!
Girl, you need to focus!
But it was difficult, because this man had it all.
Harper had mentioned something about him having an ego. Would he have one? Was he just being friendly and courteous to us now because he hadn’t bagged Pepper yet? Maybe. It could be that like Pepper and me, he was simply on his best behavior for a reason.
All of us wanted something out of this meeting. With the exception of Hunter’s good looks and his alluring package, I knew in my gut that nothing in this initial meeting could be taken at face value. The lot of it was pure industry. And each of us was just smiling through the motions until a motion was put forward about whether Pepper would be hired for the show—or not.
