“A big bowl if you don’t mind.” I lean back in my seat as Priya gets up to leave the room.
“What’s your game, Jac?” Charlotte asks me, a small smile playing at her lips once she’s gone.
“Maybe I just miss you,” I say teasingly, crossing one of my jeaned legs over the other, bright red heels on my feet.
Charlotte glances down at my shoes. “Are you watching the new season?” It was some guy Kendall had rejected on her season. I obviously wasn’t.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I answer airily as Priya comes back with my bowl of yogurt-covered raisins. She sits it in front of me, and I greedily scoop up three at once and eat them as she retakes her seat.
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about our season of the show recently,” I say to both of them as they watch me nibbling on raisins. “It seemed really dire at the time, didn’t it?”
“We did provide counseling,” Priya says, a note of warning in her voice. Yes, the 1 counseling with a therapist they had picked. Hush money. A concession. Even, perhaps, an acknowledgment of what they’d done to me. An assurance that I wouldn’t do what Shailene had done.
“Right,” I say. “Good of you. And it helped. It gave me the right amount of distance. Charlotte kept promising me I would get there eventually, and I guess I finally have.”
“The book sales helped, too,” Charlotte chimes in helpfully.
“Exactly,” I agree. Eat another raisin.
“So, what?” Priya asks.
I start to say something. Hesitate. Stop.
“You’ve been thinking about our offer?” Priya asks, too eagerly.
It had come from Priya two months ago. A sizable amount of money to return for the new season of the 1. As the lead. Audiences were salivating for my return now that I was single, and the current crop of girls were not going to bring in the ratings, from the sound of things.
Every season needs a proper bitch.
Appropriately suspicious, Charlotte doesn’t even give me a chance to answer. “Why would you do that after everything you’ve said to me post-show? I think you’ve blocked me from at least two different numbers.”
I take a deep breath, working it through in my head. “Well,” I start. “You’re obviously going to be increasing my salary $50K over the first proposal you sent me before I sign shit. I’d also want a contractual obligation about the number of times my most recent book is mentioned by name. And I want out of my NDA.” I let that hang there. “But I’ll happily sign a new one.”
Priya smiles at this news, but Charlotte doesn’t. She sits back in her chair, watching me.
“You’re willing to do it again?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say. “For those terms, I’ll do whatever you want me to.” I lace my fingers together, elbows on the table between us, resting my head on my hands and meeting eyes with both of them. “You kept telling me it would pay off, Charlotte, and it finally did. I’ve only got one other thing I really want.”
At that moment, John Apperson pops his head into the room. He’s energized—maybe high—with sunglasses perched on top of his head, a ridiculous raccoon tan, and wearing shorts.
“Heard Jac Matthis was in the office,” he says in a booming voice.
“John.” I smile.
“You going to do it?” he asks, stepping fully in. I hadn’t seen him since our one encounter during the show, and here he was, acting like we are best friends.
“Jac was just telling us her final stipulation,” Priya says, eager.
“I want,” I say, “Kendall to come advise me.” I lean back, smiling with all my teeth. “I want her to be there to see me thriving.” Kendall’s relationship after her season hadn’t even lasted until the finale; they’d shown the tearful breakup on camera, when it turned out her final pick had a girlfriend before he left for the show.
John looks thrilled. “Of course. You need to one-up Kendall one last time. I know she’ll do it.”
“Well then—” I shrug nonchalantly, playing my character to perfection this time. It’s the part I was always meant to play. “Sounds like we have a deal.”
John and Priya couldn’t look happier, but Charlotte hesitates. Finally, she looks me over one last time before she makes the decision. She sees it in my eyes.
“I’ll go get the paperwork,” she tells me.
I WALK INTO the house, tossing my keys onto the glass side table. The day is already cooling outside, teasing me to put on my favorite USC crewneck sweatshirt and curl up in a chair on the deck with a good book.
I’ve always had a soft spot for Venice Beach.
Yank bounds up to me, a stuffed giraffe in his mouth, and I scratch behind his ears. “Is that you?” a voice calls to me as I slide off my red heels. I follow the sound into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame, watching him as he stands there, gloriously tall and elegant, the picture of simplicity in his athletic shorts and ratty T-shirt, chopping onions at the marble island in the kitchen.
“It’s me,” I say.
Henry smiles, his eyes going to me.
“Well?” he asks.
I laugh. “Hook, line, and sinker.”
“I knew it!” He drops the knife, walks over to me, and leans down, his mouth against mine, pushing me against the door frame, his hands casually resting on my hips. I start laughing again and he does, too, pulling back and staring down at me.
“I did have to bring up Kendall. They’re like moths to the flame of misogyny. Brought me the contract to release me from the NDA right then. Their lawyers are drawing up the paperwork for me as the lead.”
“Good thing you’ve been writing so much,” he says, his hand cupping my face.
