Read Online Hollyweird by Terri Clark - Free Book Online Page B

a distracted hamster with a wood stick.
    â€œDes?” I said, settling next to her. She stared off in space and I waved a hand in front of her until she snapped back to reality. “You okay?”
    â€œHmm. Yeah, sure,” she said, then unconsciously shook her head, denying her words.
    â€œDakota said he was sorry.”
    â€œNo,” she countered, “he told his people—well, peep—who told us he was sorry.”
    True enough. Jameson had escorted Missy to our room around two a.m., shortly after I’d gotten Des to sleep. Following a whispered, “Sis, my whole world is about to change,” Missy had soundlessly slipped into her bed, fully clothed, and passed out with happy little murmurings. A bleary-eyed Jameson explained to me he’d found her at the club, “networking” with Dakota’s many associates. She hadn’t been boozing, but Jameson said she’d been more brazen than Lady GaGa’s fashion choices. “I’ll say this—your sister can sell herself. And I mean that in the best possible way.” Then this morning we’d gotten a conciliatory call from Jameson, “on Dakota’s behalf,” inviting us for a studio tour. Supposedly Dakota felt really bad for dumping us and wanted to make amends. I was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.
    â€œYou know, Dakota told Jameson he was just trying to divert Missy’s attention when she caught us so we wouldn’t get in too much trouble with her,” I told Des. “And it worked. Not only did he save us from her wrath, but he felt bad enough about ditching us that he wanted to make things up. And look!” I elbowed her in the side. “We’re here, on the freakin’ set of Paranormal PI . That was not in the prize package.”
    Her frown slowly tilted upside down. “I know. I’m just overtired for some reason and in this weird paradox of gidread.”
    â€œI get that.”
    And I did understand her mix of giddiness and dread. Dakota had kissed her. What would things be like for her now? How would he act around her? Plus, knowing Des, I’m sure she was worried something happened between Dakota and Missy, even though my sis swore on her head shots nothing did, because “I’m not sprawling on any casting couch.” I, for one, tend to believe her because (1) she looked this morning more like a woman who’d exhausted all her energy putting on a good face than a girl who’d gotten down with Dakota Danvers, and (2) when she swears on herself, that holds the kind of significance swearing on a Bible does for most other people.
    â€œBut, Des … ” I squeezed her hand. “Whatever happens between you and Dakota, promise you won’t let anything spoil this. How many times have we fantasized about coming here? Never in a million, trillion years did I really think it would happen.” I unzipped my Betseyville tote and yanked out my digital camera. “I’m going to take pics of everything so we can live this over and over again when we get home. You in?”
    â€œIn!” Des said, getting caught up in my exuberance. Then she snatched the camera, leaned her head against mine, stuck her taquito in her mouth like a cigar, which I mirrored, and captured our first memory.
    â€œThink we could filch a few souvenirs?” she asked, waggling her brows.
    â€œNo!”
    â€œI know, you goody-goody.” She rolled her eyes at me and I felt glad to see her back to her usual self. “I’ll keep my sticky fingers to myself.”
    â€œSticky fingers?” Jameson said. Smart boy that he is, he’d sensed I needed a moment with Des and hung back with some of the crew while hoovering half of craft services. But clearly he’d been keeping a close eye on us and, seeing the shift in Des’s mood, felt it was safe to approach.
    I stood, brushing crumbs off my denim shorts. “I don’t suppose