Teen Idols And Happy Meals

Angelfood And Accidents

Jacen’s POV

If Satan knocked up Cinderella, this was what their first home would look like. The entire place was infested with sparkles and flames. Silver glitter was sponged onto the walls and caught in the gauzy fabric of the grand drapes that bellowed from the ceiling. The furniture was sinful red leather, the tiled white floors splattered here and there with paint that was supposed to abstractly represent fire, but all I saw was blood.

Despite what Nikki said about a White Party sounding racially insensitive, they were really just events where everyone in attendance had to wear white. The gaudy interior of Molly’s penthouse only added to the grandeur and overall ridiculousness of the party.

If it had been up to me, I never would’ve come. The whole thing was one big publicity event; crawling with agents and headhunters and photographers. It was the sort of party that wasn’t really a party. For a celebrity, this was work.

“Jacen Sage, just the man I wanted to see.” I glanced up from my phone, having just ended my call with Nikki. I’d been hoping that if I stayed off to the side and fiddled with my phone, people would assume I was busy and leave me be. I should’ve known better than to assume these people had manners.

“Hey Carlo,” I said, shaking his hand when he offered it to me. The silver haired man wore a blinding white suit and an equally as blinding, artificially whitened smile. Carlo Jenkins, owner of CJ Modeling, had been trying to score a contract with me for the better half of the last month. The offer had been more than generous, but Viviane wanted to keep my options open.

“Looking sharp Jacen,” he complimented me, nodding to my outfit. It had been a pain finding an all-white ensemble and I had considered just forsaking the dress code but, after considering what violent things Molly might do to me as a result, had sucked it up. I’d put on a pair of white jeans and a grey vest over a white t-shirt. If she thought I was taking off my boots though, she really was crazy. “Though, I suppose a handsome guy like you could look good in just about anything.”

“Nice sales pitch Carlo,” I said, taking a sip of my soda. I had promised Nikki I would cut back on alcohol, and I intended to keep that promise. “But like I told you, it’s not my decision. You’ll have to talk to Viviane.”

He gave no indication of being affronted. People in this business were well versed in rejection, but not Carlo Jenkins. He was a man who got what he wanted, one way or another. “Last time I checked, you were the star Jacen,” he continued on in a perfect PR voice, as if I was the only person on the planet who mattered. I knew that trick. “Not Viviane Moore.”

“She’s my agent,” I said with a shrug. “She handles the details. I just show up and follow directions.” I was an actor, not a businessman. If it wasn’t for Odette looking out for me, these people could easily take advantage of my poor math skills and even poorer still, negotiating abilities.

“Don’t you want more than that Jacen?” Carlo pressed farther, his voice even and persuasive as he laid a hand on my shoulder. “Aren’t you tired of having others telling you how to live your life?”

I didn’t know what to say to that so I simply grabbed the pen out of his shirt pocket and scribbled a number on the business card he’d been about to hand me. I gave both right back to him. “Viviane’s number,” I said, “Call her if you want to negotiate.”

I left then, slipping off into the crowd. It was nearly eleven, a perfectly acceptable time to leave, given the long drive home I had ahead of me. Viviane was lucky I’d stayed as long as I had. If anyone should be attending these parties, it’s her. She was the one whose opinion mattered.

“Pat,” I called, making my way through the white and red clothed tables that had been set up on one side of the massive penthouse floor as a sort of dining area. The entire event was being catered, obviously, and the smell of lemon chicken and red potatoes was heavy in the air.