Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,26

since I saw her making out with a hipster in broad daylight, I was rethinking her condom motives. I almost didn’t pack them in a passive-aggressive attempt to thwart her adulterous plans.

“Chloe?” Nicole’s voice came from behind me and I straightened, peeling a Post-It off of my cheek.

“Yes?” I turned.

“Ready to head to set?”

“Yes.” I scooted my chair, grabbing at my bag. Turning to her, I gave my best attempt at a smile, while scanning her for signs of infidelity. Nothing. There should be a sign, the words TRAITOR blazoned across her forehead. Then again, if cheating were that obvious, I’d have caught Vic way before I did.

Today was the first day that Nicole would be on set and—let’s not be coy—I was excited. Clueless, but excited. My knowledge of the film industry was limited to watching film geeks run around the NYU campus with lighting kits and cameras. This would be different; this was real. Well, as real as a straight-to-TV movie could be. And I was pretty sure that was what it was. I couldn’t find anything out about it online. Plus, Nicole was the queen of the TV movie circuit, her résumé boasting one episode in a soap and seven movies no one had ever heard of.

If I hadn’t IMDB’d her ass, I probably would have been more excited. Especially because Nicole had been walking around like Boston Love Letters was A BIG DEAL. And her agent and publicist had been frequent visitors to the Brantley household in the last few weeks. So who knew? Maybe this would be a feature film. I was just excited to be getting out of the house, my new office feeling more like a jail cell. On the set I could make some contacts, maybe find another job that wasn’t laced with deception. Seeing Clarke’s innocent face on a daily basis was seriously increasing my wrinkle count. I could feel crow’s feet forming, caught a glimpse of them in the mirror just that week. Granted, it was a dingy mirror in a dark bar bathroom, but I’m almost positive they were there. Hiding. Lurking. Waiting.

I watched Nicole leave and studied the trunks. Hitched my bag higher on my shoulder and grabbed the first handle with both hands. Grunted a little when I lifted it.

“Don’t do that.” The world’s hottest husband spoke from behind me. I turned to face him. “You’ll kill that back of yours. Dante and I can get those.”

“Thanks.” I glanced around for anything I might be leaving, grabbing my S’well off the desk and sticking it in my bag.

“A raise, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Maybe he’d want money for the vase, after all.

“Nicole says she gave you a raise.” Clarke stepped forward and bent over, grabbing one trunk in each hand and lifting them easily.

“Yes.” I looked down, examining the fascinating hem of my shirt.

From the hall behind us, Nicole barked into her phone, voice loud, her hands gesturing wildly. No wonder she was so skinny. The woman worked off a thousand calories a day by sheer expression alone. Clarke glanced at her and lowered his voice. “So, you’ll be on set with Nicole?”

“Yes—” I stopped myself just in time, swallowing the word sir. “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her.” He said the words shortly, with a bit of an edge. “For me.”

“Keep an eye on her?” I asked hesitantly.

“You’ll understand what I mean.” He held my eyes for a heartbeat, then nodded and turned, the trunks in hand, and headed for the hall.

I followed numbly, almost bumping into Dante, and I pointed out the last trunk, whispering my thanks to him. I watched Clarke and Nicole move down the stairs and wondered, his last directive echoing in my mind, what he was talking about.

I hated her more with each passing day. I hated her for what she was doing to Clarke, and I hated her for bringing me into it, for tainting my journey of self-improvement.

Most of all, I hated all of the things I saw in her that reminded me of myself. It was like she was the Ghost of Christmas Freakin’ Future. A ghost I despised.

Maybe it wasn’t too late for me. Maybe all this was just my wakeup call.

25. The Benefits of Grape Bubble Gum

My movie set salvation had a full tattoo sleeve, hot pink hair, and matching nails. Any question I had about her inappropriate appearance was forgotten within five minutes of her walking through the door. She was the assistant I hoped to one