Home > Between the Lines (Between the Lines #1)(13)

Between the Lines (Between the Lines #1)(13)
Author: Tammara Webber

The fans are eventually persuaded to settle down with the promise of an up-close visit from Reid for photos and autographs when we’re done. He’s either exceptionally dedicated or just reckless; nothing will entice me to venture near that insanity. The crowd remains hushed every time Richter turns towards them and holds his hands up, right up until he yells, “Cut!” at which point they lose it again.

By the time the light is too muted to film outside, the fans have been waiting for hours. “Come with me,” Reid says, smiling and holding his hand out for mine.

“Er…” I eye the crowd, remembering my earlier intention to never get anywhere near that.

“Come on, they’ll want to meet Lizbeth Bennet.” His voice is warm, coaxing. I take a deep breath and reach for his hand against all of my natural inclination.

Well. Maybe not all of my natural inclination.

Me: Reid dragged me over to meet his rabid fans when we were done.

Em: OMG! Will there be pictures on the internet??

Me: Ha, i’m sure. Going out with everyone tonight. A club i think. Not sure i can get in?

Em: You’re a celebrity now, they’ll let you in everywhere!

Me: Idk

Em: If you make out with reid take pictures on your phone and SEND THEM TO ME

Me: EMILY you know i don’t kiss and sext

Em: Oh fine just forget the little people now that you’re a big star

Me: Em. You know you’ll never be little people to me

Em: Miss you toooo

Chapter 9


“Look at this suite—holy shit, do girls even get all the way into the room before their panties hit the floor?” Tadd’s come up to my room with me to borrow my laptop.


“Of the girls? I think not. Of your room? Hell, yeah.” He plops onto the king-sized bed, hands behind his head. “Corner balcony. Elevated bed. Fresh flowers. Dude. Sweet.” I hand him the laptop and he brings up his email. “Hey man, is Quinton a go for tonight?”

I pull out my phone and tap a text. Quinton texts back a yes a minute later. “Of course he is—Quinton’s always a go. Who else? MiShaun and Emma said yes earlier.”

“I talked to some of the extras about where the best spots are, so a bunch of them might show. And I told Meredith, Jenna and Brooke… and Graham, who, by the way, is hot and I was hoping also g*y, because he appears to be close friends with Brooke, but no such luck.”

I process this for a moment. “Graham and Brooke are close—and he’s straight? How do you know they aren’t screwing each other? Maybe they’re a thing. Or a friends-with-benefits thing.”

Tadd shrugs. “Maybe. I didn’t get that vibe, but hey, you people make everything more complicated.”

“What’s complicated about friends-with-benefits?”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on the screen. “Dude, that’s something my people perfected long ago. You guys can’t get away with it because girls are more likely to want emotion, attachment, love.” The latter is punctuated with an exaggerated shudder.

“You obviously don’t know Brooke very well. She’s like a guy with boobs.”

He laughs. “Sorry, Reid, but in my world, the primary aspect being a guy is not the having or not having of boobs. I’ve seen Brooke’s Life’s a Beach promos—her swimsuits are a couple of ribbons tied together. If she has underlying physical features of which I’m unaware, I’d like to know where she’s hiding them.”

“Aaaand thanks for that mental picture,” I say. “What I mean is, she thinks like a guy. She’s detached. Calculating.”

He closes the laptop and puts it aside. “So you screwed her and she didn’t love you back? Aww, that’s so sad.”

“Fuck off, man.” Laughing, I shove him and he rolls off the bed.

“What I mean is, she sounds perfect! You can screw each other’s brains out and just walk away.” He sits back down on the bed, his eyes on mine. “Or is that pretty much what already happened…”

I forgot how good Tadd is at digging deep fast. “Something like that. I really don’t care.” And I don’t.

“Then who cares what she and Graham are doing?” he says, making all sorts of sense.

I think about Emma. “You’re right. I’ve got better ways to spend my time.”

*** *** ***


I raise my voice above the music so MiShaun can hear me. “I can’t believe we all got in.”

“Get used to celebrity, baby!” She clinks her glass to mine. Once the guy at the door got a look at Reid, we were all escorted inside without an eye-bat at anyone’s ID.

Our group takes up a corner near the bar plus half of the tiny dance floor, and our brawny bodyguards look like they’re standing inside a child’s playhouse. While I sip my drink, we examine the rest of the cast. Jenna, Meredith, Tadd and Reid are dancing. Brooke is seated on a velvet sofa with the guy I’d seen leaving his hotel room in his pajamas two nights ago.

I lean to MiShaun. “Who’s the guy sitting next to Brooke?”

“That’s Graham Douglas.” Though he’s twenty feet from us and can’t possibly hear, his eyes snap up. He smiles and tips his chin back like guys do to indicate a sort of non-verbal hey, and MiShaun raises her drink in his direction. When Brooke turns to see who’s taken Graham’s attention from her, I develop a sudden and intense interest in the dance floor.

Running through the cast names in my head, I realize Graham is playing the part of Bill Collins, one of the nerdiest guys in literature. I slide my eyes back to him. In close conversation with Brooke, he leans in as she speaks, one arm draped across the back of the low sofa. “Do you know him?” His dark hair is on the longish side, swept back except for errant sections that fall forward. Unlike the other guys in our group, who are fashionably disheveled in t-shirts and jeans, Graham wears black slacks and a blue button-down, top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up.

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