You Had Me at Hola - Alexis Daria Page 0,74

accent—kept under control, for the most part, except on the word “coffee”—was showing. Shit. They were both freaking out.

“It’s not that bad,” she told him. “It will be good promo for the show, and it will blow over quickly.”

These were all things her agent and cousins had told her after her split with McIntyre had blown up, and they hadn’t helped. But she didn’t know what else to say. She remembered the first time she had made it onto the cover of Soaps Monthly magazine. She’d been thrilled. But this kind of exposure? It hurt, and there was no getting around that. For someone like Ashton, who was fiercely protective of his privacy, this had to feel nerve-racking and intrusive.

Ashton opened the magazine and flipped to the article about them. Before Jasmine could tell him not to read it, that it wouldn’t help matters, he said, “I can’t believe they would print this. People are going to think that we—”

“Ashton.” She waited until he looked at her. “We are.”

“I know, but I don’t need anyone else knowing that.” He went back to the magazine, a look of disgust on his face.

Excuse me? Before Jasmine could find her voice to respond to that insulting statement, a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. “It’s Tanya,” said a muffled voice.

Ashton’s gaze flew around the room, as if looking for somewhere to hide. His eyes locked on the bathroom door.

“Who cares if someone sees you here now?” Jasmine hissed at him, giving the magazine he held an irritated flick as she moved past him to open the door. Tanya stood on the other side. In her hands was another copy of Buzz Weekly. Shit, were the paps stationed near the studio’s gates handing them out as people arrived for work?

Jasmine stepped aside to let Tanya in. “So you’ve seen it.”

“Of course I have.” Tanya handed it to Jasmine, who threw it directly into the trash. “I’m amazed they thought this was cover material.”

Or Kitty Sanchez had been waiting to pounce on a new story about Jasmine, and the summit photos plus Lily’s innocent quote had given her what she needed. Out loud, Jasmine said, “They’re using me.”

“That they are,” Tanya agreed. “Ready to spin this?”

“What’s the plan?” Jasmine asked.

“We have some interviews lined up,” Tanya replied. “I won’t lie, if you wanted to play this coy, it would be great for ratings. But I’m not about abusing my actors or making up stories that aren’t there, so the simplest thing to do is say you’re just friends and leave it at that. Good?”

Ashton looked like he was going to throw up, but he nodded. “We need to shut this down immediately.”

Jasmine’s heart ached for him, even as she wished he’d pull his head out of his ass. She understood where he was coming from, but she needed his support on this, damn it. She’d already gone through it once on her own.

Tanya headed for the door. “Ashton, you’re going to need more prep. Come with me.”

Ashton shot Jasmine an anguished glance, but he followed Tanya out the door.

Jasmine took a deep breath, then shut it behind them. Alone again, she went to her purse. Her phone buzzed incessantly with incoming calls and texts, so she took Michelle’s advice and turned it off. After setting it aside, she pulled out her wallet and removed a folded piece of notepaper with her grandmother’s name across the top.

She hadn’t looked at the Leading Lady Plan since she’d written it, but this seemed like a great time to remind herself what was at stake.

Leading Ladies only end up on magazine covers with good reason.

Leading Ladies are whole and happy on their own.

Leading Ladies are badass queens making jefa moves.

And then there was the fourth mental item she hadn’t dared write down: Leading Ladies do not rebound with their costars.

With a weary sigh, Jasmine dropped onto the dressing room sofa. Had she really thought she was on track? She was one for four, if she counted being honored by the summit as a “jefa move.” But since it had led to her ending up on yet another magazine cover—specifically with the word “rebound” on it—it was hard to consider it a win. She might as well rip up the Leading Lady Plan and flush it down the toilet.

Was a man really worth potentially ruining all her plans for herself? Once upon a time, she would have said yes. Well, actually, she would have said no, but thought yes.

But

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