Beautiful Idols: Unrivaled Part 5

"It's Sydney, right?" Aster approached the girl who, from what Aster could tell, was wearing a full bodysuit of tattoos.

She was about to compliment Sydney on her septum piercing, anything to get on her good side, when Sydney snapped, "Don't bother. I already traded with Taylor." She turned away before Aster could react to the snub.

She headed for Diego and Jin on the other side of the room, but when she got there, they were already negotiating with Brittney and Ash, which left only Layla.

Great.

And on top of that, Layla was gone.

"Hey-Aster?"

She turned to find Tommy standing behind her.

"I was wondering if you were up for a trade?"

"Not unless you got Night for Night, which we both know you didn't." She raced for the door. Layla had probably already left, and Aster needed to reach her while she still had a chance. But when she replayed her words, she forced herself to turn back. She'd already made one enemy. She didn't need to start a collection. "Sorry," she said. "That was uncalled for."

"Won't argue with that." Tommy's face broke into a grin that made his eyes gleam. Maybe he was cuter than she'd first thought.

"It's just-I really want Night for Night."

"Well, Jewel's a closer match than the Vesper, no?"

Sure it was better, but better wasn't good enough. "Can you help me get to Layla?" she asked, hoping he'd made a better impression than she had.

He ran a hand over his chin and shot her a skeptical look. "Doubtful," he said.

"Would you be willing to at least try?" She gave him her best grin, the one she saved for auditions and head shots.

"Depends." He folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight to his heels, like he had all the time in the world. "What's in it for me?"

"The Vesper." She shrugged. "That's what you want, right?"

He studied her for a moment, then led her to the entry, where Layla was talking on her phone, until she saw Aster and Tommy and hastily ended the call.

"Can I help you?" She frowned.

Tommy hooked a thumb toward Aster. "I was thinking you two should meet."

"We've met-" Layla turned away. "She nearly killed me in pursuit of a parking s.p.a.ce."

"And I want to apologize for that." Aster hurried alongside her.

"So, it's true." Tommy looked amused by the news.

"No, it's not true," Aster snapped. "I didn't even see her. It was all a big misunderstanding."

"Oh, you saw me." Layla whirled on her. "Don't even try to pretend like you didn't."

"No wonder you needed me to mediate." Tommy looked at Aster, shaking his head.

"Believe me," Aster said. "I'm already regretting that."

"Maybe so, but deal's a deal," Tommy reminded her. "I did my part, now you do yours."

"What deal? What's going on?" Layla glanced between them.

"Aster wants to switch clubs."

"Um, h.e.l.lo! I'm right here and I can speak for myself!" Aster shook her head. Maybe she should just stick with the Vesper; it would be better than dealing with this. But who was she kidding? It was a disaster in the making. Besides, she was still convinced this was all part of some weird game Ira was playing.

"Then why'd you ask me to help?"

"I asked you to help me find her, not to-ugh, just forget it, Okay? Listen." Aster faced them both. "Here's the deal. We all want each other's clubs. So I'm proposing we put our personal feelings aside and-"

"I don't want your club." Layla made her way out the door and onto a street crowded with tourists, as Aster and Tommy rushed to follow.

"You're seriously trying to tell me you want Night for Night? You wouldn't prefer Jewel?"

Layla stopped. "What's the difference? A club's a club."

"You can't be serious!" Aster cried, scowling at a guy wearing a Superman costume that looked ratty and decrepit under the glare of the bright summer sun. It probably smelled bad too. And yet there was no shortage of tourists willing to pay to take pictures with costume-wearing weirdos like him. Sometimes people completely boggled her brain. Layla included.

"Way to negotiate." Tommy laughed, which only annoyed Aster more, mostly because he was right. This whole thing was a mess, and it was all her fault. Something about these two pushed all her b.u.t.tons. Normally she had no problem making friends and keeping her cool.

"There's a big difference," Aster said, determined to rein herself in. "And Layla, you're far more suited to Jewel."

"And why's that?" She folded her arms across her chest, guarding against whatever insult Aster might sling.

"Because it's sharp, modern, and eccentric. All the things Tommy's not, but you are."

"Oh." Layla seemed to visibly relax, if only a little. "So let me get this straight. Tommy wants your club, and you want my club."

"Yes." Aster stood uncertainly before her. Surely even Layla could see the logic in her plan.

"Well, good luck to you both."

Layla made for her bike, as Aster hurried alongside her and Tommy stayed put. "Just give me a minute," Aster called after her. "That's all I ask."

To her surprise, Layla stopped and looked pointedly at the time on her phone.

"Listen, I'm sorry for what happened earlier." Aster fought to catch her breath, the words hurried but heartfelt. "Truly. But if you'll just-"

"Tell me." Layla c.o.c.ked her head and narrowed her gaze, and despite the way her features sharpened, Aster was surprised to find she was actually pretty. "If you'd gotten Night for Night, would you have tried to apologize?"

Aster took a moment to answer, unsure how to play it. "Honestly?" she finally relented. "Probably not."

Layla nodded, seemingly satisfied. "So, what's in it for me?"

Aster studied Layla, trying to determine why she was interested in Ira's contest. She a.s.sumed most people were after the money, but something about Layla told her it wasn't just that. Still, money was the only thing she could think to offer. "I'll give you my share of the first week's marketing money."

Layla rolled her eyes. "Please, you drive a Mercedes. A C-Cla.s.s, but still a Mercedes. I don't want your money, I want something that will truly cost you."

Aster was shocked by the snub. A C-Cla.s.s Mercedes beat a cheap bike any day, but whatever; Layla was trying to get to her and Aster wouldn't fall for it. "Name it," Aster said, ready for this to be over.

"I will. Just as soon as I think of something."

Aster's eyes widened. She couldn't be serious, could she?

Layla paused long enough for a foreign tour group to go by, their leader excitedly pointing out all the landmarks the locals never even bothered to look at. "I'll let you know when I decide," she finally said.

"I'm not comfortable with that," Aster snapped.

"That sounds more like your problem than mine." Layla shrugged. "And don't even think about trying to back out when payday comes around, because I will hold you to it."

Aster gnawed the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she'd yet to cure herself of. "You're not going to ask for the soul of my firstborn child or something, are you?"

Layla rolled her eyes. "Why would I want your illegitimate mistake?"

Aster sighed. The girl was a nightmare. Who knew what she'd demand? Well, she'd deal with it later. For now she had Night for Night, and that was all that really mattered. "Guess you're representing Jewel," she said.

Layla shrugged like she didn't care either way, leaving Aster to second-guess the deal she'd just struck as she watched the other girl walk away.

"You convince her?" Tommy called, as Aster made her way back.

Aster nodded, wondering if she looked as shaken as she felt. "I feel like I just made a deal with the devil, but yeah, it's done."

"Hope it turns out to be worth it." Tommy squinted against the sun, eyeing her carefully.

She shrugged, clicked her key fob, and unlocked her car. Remembering her manners, something that had been in short supply all day, she looked over her shoulder and said, "Hey, Tommy-good luck with the Vesper."

"Good luck to you." He grinned.

The compet.i.tion had officially begun.

NINE.

SUMMERTIME SADNESS.

Layla stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel at the same moment there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Mateo offered, pausing a moment to grin appreciatively at the sight of Layla naked before heading down the hall.

She wrapped the towel around herself and pulled a comb through her hair. It looked awful, more neglected than usual, like the hair of an overstressed soccer mom who'd run out of Xanax. She should try harder. Maybe do something with the color. Though she doubted she would. It was bad enough she'd worn a pair of toe-numbing stilettos in order to look the part for the interview. If she started highlighting her hair, where would it end? Scouring Pinterest boards, looking for nail art ideas? She refused to be that girl.

Then again, Mateo had exhibited some major appreciation for the shoes. Especially when she'd kept them on well after everything else had come off. And lately, making Mateo happy went a long way toward alleviating her guilt over not telling him she was working for Ira. She wanted to. She just hadn't found the right time. But tonight she'd tell him for sure. It was her first official day on the job, and the last thing she wanted was for Mateo to discover the truth on his own.

She rubbed some moisturizer into her skin, letting the towel slowly drop to the floor like some kind of bathroom burlesque, winking salaciously at Mateo through the mirror as he returned with a large white envelope clutched in his hand.

She strained to make out the lettering, but Mateo's fingers covered the logo. "Did Publishers Clearing House finally send me that million-dollar check?" She laughed playfully, until she saw the hurt expression on Mateo's face and the laughter died on her lips.

Today was the day Ira was sending their first list of celebrity gets, which Layla a.s.sumed would arrive by email. It never occurred to her he'd opt for home delivery. And now her phone was chiming with incoming texts-most likely from her team wanting to strategize.

"You gonna get that?" Mateo struggled to keep his face neutral as he nodded toward her phone.

She shook her head, reached for her towel, and quickly covered herself.

"What if Ira needs you?" he said when her phone chimed again.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, searching for just the right words to explain, only those words didn't really exist.

"When were you going to tell me? Or were you ever going to tell me?"

"Tonight." She lifted her gaze to meet his, needing him to believe it.

"And how long have you known?"

She hung her head, if for no other reason than to avoid the hurt look on his face. He'd always been so open and honest with her. Layla was the shady one-the dealer of secrets and lies.

"Couple days," she said, voice barely audible.

He exhaled long and deep. If disappointment had a sound, Mateo's sigh would be it. He willingly forfeited the envelope. Her fingers reluctantly seized it. As much as she'd wanted the job, in the face of betraying Mateo, it no longer seemed worth it.

"You already know how I feel about that scene. But if this is what you want, it's not my place to stop you," he said.

"But it's not like that!" Layla gripped the envelope so tightly it crinkled in protest. "I'm doing it to honor Carlos, to shine a light on that dark, murky world, and so I-" She stalled. Finishing the thought meant revealing another secret, and she absolutely was not ready for that.

Though she'd had no problem revealing that secret to Ira. As soon as he'd asked why she wanted to win, she blurted out the truth about needing to find a way to pay for journalism school. The interview ended shortly after, and out of all the questions he'd asked, and there'd been quite a few, she knew that was the answer that clinched it.

But this was Mateo, and there was no good way to say: Oh, and by the way, I have my heart set on journalism school in New York, and I'm hoping this job will cough up enough cash so I can move far away. And just so you know-you're not invited.

How could she convey that to Mateo, of all people?

But from the length of her silence, she already had. Or at least she'd alarmed him enough to prompt him to ask, "So you can what, Layla?" His voice carried an edge, but his shoulders sank in defeat. "Is this about the prize money? Because you know I'd gladly give you whatever I have."

She gazed around her room, taking in the dark wood floors and white beach-board walls that matched the rest of the remodeled Venice Beach bungalow, the jumble of freshly laundered clothes in need of sorting, the stack of books she'd been meaning to get to as soon as she found some free time. She paused on the portrait her father had painted of her at age five. Her head thrown back, eyes shut tight, mouth stretched wide as she laughed at something she could no longer remember. It was probably the last time her life felt so uncomplicated, the last time she'd felt like a kid. Within a year her mom would be gone, and she and her dad would take the first tentative steps toward forging a new life without her.

Maybe her mom's abandonment had affected her more than she'd thought. Maybe a therapist would say it had something to do with her becoming the sort of perfectionist who couldn't bear to disappoint anyone, lest they leave. All she knew for sure was she never wanted to disappoint Mateo-and yet, she knew she eventually would.

She gnawed her bottom lip, pulled the towel tighter around her. A quick glimpse of his face told her anything she said would be met with suspicion.