The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,50

let's make it a double date. Cash, you can bring Eileen."

I was torn between relief at being there to chaperone and disgust at what she was proposing. Heavy petting? What the hell was that? She didn’t have to do that. We weren’t being pimped out by MTV.

"What kind of date were you thinking? Like, a restaurant?" Emma leaned forward in her seat, and her elbow brushed mine. We both immediately withdrew.

“Wait.” I held up my hand. “What do you consider heavy petting?”

“It’s when one person touches another person in a sexual way,” Dana said to be slowly and clearly, in a tone appropriate for a child. “And don’t worry, you don’t have to touch Eileen if you don’t want to.”

I ground my teeth together and fought the urge to upend Dana’s desk.

“Like, making out, right?” Emma offered unhelpfully. “I can just make out with him?”

"That's finnneeee," Dana said. "I just want heat. I want the cameras melting, and you two actually interacting on the double date, okay? Come on. Fans love when you're together—just don't start swinging fists." She smiled as if this was all in good fun.

“And we’re filming this when?” Emma asked.

I couldn't believe she was so casual about this. Then again, this was the girl who kicked me off her photoshoot and stripped naked with Layton. I'm almost glad I wasn't there. I'm not sure I could have held back if he'd put his hands on her.

“Tomorrow night. We were thinking of you guys at the Santa Monica pier, then a bonfire at the beach.”

“Adorable,” I muttered.

“Okay.” Dana stood up from her chair. “Good chat, kids. From now on, you’re chummy, okay?”

Emma and I filed silently out without responding.

59

#santamonica

CASH

Emma wore a blue sundress that caught every guy’s eye we passed. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my board shorts and tried to stroll in as normal a fashion as possible, given the fact that Eileen was hanging on me like a leech.

“People are staring,” Eileen clawed at my arm. “Is it like this every time you go out?”

I looked past the guy who was fixated on Emma’s legs and glanced around. Eileen was right. A crowd was beginning to form, and it was probably due to the camera crews and not us, but that was hard to know.

Someone in one of the booths said something to Layton, and we stopped to watch him peel off a twenty-dollar bill and hand it to the guy, then pick up a toy rifle. Emma beamed at him. She couldn't genuinely be impressed by this. The guy probably grew up shooting baby deer. He leveled the rifle on his shoulder and fired a series of shots at a row of cans. They all fell in quick succession, and Emma cheered.

I turned to Eileen. “Want something to eat?” I nodded to the funnel cake trailer.

She tugged my hand out of my pocket and laced her fingers through mine. “Sure.”

We were at a picnic table, Eileen practically in my lap, trying to feed me a piece when Emma and Layton appeared, her arms wrapped around a giant fluffy bunny.

“Wow,” Eileen blinked up at them. “That’s… big.”

“That’s what she said,” Layton cracked, then grinned at me. “Right, Cash?”

I let Eileen stuff a piece in my mouth just so I wouldn’t have to answer.

“Excuse me.” A voice sounded from behind me. “You’re Cash Mitchell, right?”

I turned, and it was a girl, phone clutched in her hands, a tentative and embarrassed grin spread wide across her face. She had braces and couldn't be older than fourteen. "Yeah, I'm Cash."

“And you’re all on House of Fame, right?” She tucked a red curl behind her ear. “That’s what they’re filming?”

“Yeah,” Eileen said.

“Can I get a picture?” The girl passed her phone to her friend and stepped on the picnic table bench, then sat on the surface, putting herself in the middle of us without waiting for a reply.

We all leaned in and smiled, then waited for her friend to get in the shot. A line began to form, and a producer snapped into action, getting footage of the buzz. Emma gave her stuffed animal to a girl with a fanny pack and neon pink sunglasses, and Layton did a handstand contest with a trio of guys from Florida. I took a dozen selfies with fans before one of the producers finally clapped his hands.

“Okay, we’ve got to run. Everyone who didn’t get a pic, we’ve got House of Fame stickers and koozies for you. Talk to