“Oh,” I say, “I’m sure.” But I have no idea what I’m talking about. I’ve gone from here to DC many times, but that doesn’t really count. It’s not for my job.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. But you never get to stay in one place long enough to get to know someone, ya know? Never long enough to fall in love.”
How could anyone not fall for Morgan? She’s funny, talented and beautiful. Even famous. I’m about to say so when a woman across the room wearing a cherry-red dress and strappy heels gets her attention by waving a napkin in our direction.
“Excuse me,” Morgan says. “That’s my agent and my signal. There’s a director I wanna talk to. Steven Weir. You know him, right? Wish me luck!”
Just like that, Morgan is caught in another whirlwind of people. I float away from the small crowd, wishing I could find Antonia, and end up running into a guy I recognize as Zach’s sidekick on the show. Michael Louis-Kroll. He’s always doing something goofy in contrast with Zach’s character.
“I like your character on Sisters & Mothers,” I say.
He lets out a sort of snort, like someone poked him in the stomach. “You mean, you like how I’m constantly getting steamrolled and taking it like a champ?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Seriously.”
“Of course you did.” He’s giving me a smug squint.
He must be totally drunk.
“Aren’t you playing the character that way on purpose?” I ask.
He thinks. Swirls his drink. “What’s your name?”
“Liv,” I say, realizing I don’t even need to ask for his and he knows it. Even though my father is third in line for the presidency, a lot of people don’t know his name. My family is important. They have prestige. But we’re not exactly famous.
“Okay, Liv. You’re the director. It’s your show. How would you have me portrayed? Would you be sort of shallow, catering to the whims of mass television by giving the show a requisite punching bag? Or would you do something different?”
The guy standing next to him thinks his buddy is getting out of line. “Michael,” his friend says. “Take it easy. She was just trying to compliment your work.”
This time I interrupt. If he wants to test me, I’ll rise to the challenge. There’s nothing more that I hate than when a guy talks to a girl like she’s ridiculous for having an opinion. I hold up a hand to Michael’s friend. I don’t need his chivalry. “No, no. I got this,” I say, feeling a burst of confidence as I examine Michael. He’s grinning like he’s testing me, like he wants to see what I’m made of. “I think if I were the director, I’d want an actor to challenge my thinking. I’d be open-minded to new ideas, fresh takes on characters.”
He rolls his eyes. “Right.”
“No, really,” I say, wanting to drive my point home and to show Zach’s friends that I can hold my own. “I’d want actors who can explore character. Shake up the show. Shake the audience. Pull in the viewers by showing a range of emotions. A character might start out like yours, just a throwaway punch line, but I’d imagine a greater arc over the course of the show, with the character becoming more serious and complex in the end.”
Michael’s buddy starts cracking up. “She got you, fam.”
I don’t know where the surge of confidence came from—maybe I’m not as socially awkward as I thought. Maybe I can think on my feet.
Before Michael can say anything and turn the conversation into awkward silence, I follow Morgan’s lead and excuse myself. “Sorry, boys, but I have to run. It was nice meeting you.”
“That girl can hang,” Michael says as I walk away. “Who is she?”
I’m laughing to myself, weaving through the people, when I feel the familiar buzz of a text through my clutch. I look at my phone. At first I think the text is going to be Sam telling me off, but then I see my brother’s name flash across the screen. It’s Royce. The phone buzzes again. Two texts? Royce never texts me this late at night.
I’m afraid to look. Something bad might have happened.
ROYCE: Don’t ever fall in love.
ROYCE: It’s not worth it.
LIV: Are you and Jas fighting?
He doesn’t answer. Or doesn’t want to answer the question.
I can barely remember what life was like before her. I do remember that being the only girl in the family was definitely no fun. I love Jasmine. He’d be stupid to do anything to lose her. I’ve always looked up to her, ever since Royce started dating her during their senior year of high school. She’s practically my older sister, with the benefit of not having the same parents.
She’s always encouraging me to pursue art even when my parents tell me they would rather I become a lawyer. “If your parents don’t love your career choice now,” she says, “that doesn’t mean they won’t later. Believe me. My parents haven’t always agreed with my decisions, but they support me. Keep being yourself. Keep dreaming.”
I don’t even know why he’s texting me about this. What do I know about love? It’s not like I’ve been in a long-term relationship—a years-long relationship—like him and Jasmine. I don’t really talk to either of them about their relationship. My heart sinks. I’m finally realizing that maybe that was because they never needed to until now.
Royce still hasn’t answered.
I text Jas, trying to say something that won’t make her think Royce is talking to me about their relationship problems. That would be pretty weird.
LIV: What’s up? We haven’t talked in forever!
JAS: Just studying. Gotta get into med school ;-)
LIV: Always so responsible :-)
JAS: What’s going on? You need something?
LIV: Just your presence! When are we going to hang out?
JAS: Idk. Maybe Christmas?
LIV: That’s so far away!
JAS: It’s my only big break. Can you come up here?
LIV: I’ll ask <3 xoxox
I can’t tell what’s going on. She doesn’t seem any different from normal. If they’re fighting, that’s none of my business anyway. Though the fact that they might be fighting is totally scandalous. They are the perfect couple. Not kidding.
I glance at my phone again for a text from Royce.
Nothing.
Now I’m really starting to worry. What if he’s rallying the troops? Is he going to turn this into a family emergency?
Then I have a worse thought. Maybe Royce came home to talk to our parents—and they’re trying to get him to figure out where I am.
They would kill me if they found out that I was at a high-profile party without permission. I’m trying hard enough to please them with good grades and this whole responsibility act to get them off my back so I have at least a teensy chance of getting them to let me apply to art school instead of a regular university.
I think about texting Antonia to ask her to take me home. I can’t breathe. I mean, seriously, everything is just not right. My hair is pulled back too tight. My dress is uncomfortable.
I’m starting to feel bloated. Fat. Ugly.
Then I see Zach.
He’s wearing a shiny navy suit with