Lucky Me (6 page)

“I wouldn't worry too much about it,” Aaron said, stretching his arms out above his head lazily. “This is Hollywood. Someone's always watching.”

My phone buzzed in my hand. Another text message popped up, again from an unknown number.

“I got another one,” I said, and all my friends leaned in to view the message.

And I'm closer than you think.

“Okay,” Aria said uncertainly. She looked at me with a frown. “I'll admit that's kind of creepy.”

A small rush of fear climbed up my spine. Couldn't disagree with her on that one. As if we had all rehearsed it, my friends and I looked around the campus in unison, hoping to catch someone suspiciously peering at me with a phone in their hand.

“Well who do you think it is?” Jack asked.

It felt like every student on campus had suddenly had a violent urge to pull out their phones and start texting. Almost everyone I could see was tapping away on their keypads and screens. It could have been anyone.

“Gia!” A voice called out from my right.

I froze, immediately recognizing who it was. “Mystery solved,” I said under my breath.

The voice belonged to Meghan Adams, daughter of billionaire magnate Kevin Adams. She's also my arch nemesis. Don't be fooled by her perfectly styled strawberry blonde hair or her insanely large blue eyes. She looks innocent enough, but in reality she's the most arrogant and self-obsessed human being, like, ever. Her dad owns a B-grade airline called “Air Adams,” but still manages to earn what seems like a zillion dollars each day. Over the years I've come up with many theories about how her family must get the money to sustain her shopping addiction. I've decided she uses some kind of black magic. Wouldn't put it past her; she's pure evil.

Not only does Meghan's ego suck the air out of a room, she always acts like a complete angel around Brendan because she knows he's attractive and lacking in the common sense department. But for the amount of people who hate Meghan, which is a lot, there's an equal amount who adore her. Her two best friends, Lori and Mischa, never leave her side, acting more like bodyguards than Jack ever has.

“Meghan!” I said with fake enthusiasm, as she and her friends approached our table. “Come to feed on more innocent people's souls?”

“Yeah!” Aria added, matching my mocking tone. “I didn't know you could come out in daylight hours!”

“That's hilarious,” Lori sneered, and I smiled at her sweetly.

“I just came to introduce myself to your friend Jack. Maybe show him around the school if he needed a tour guide or something,” Meghan explained with an innocent smile on her face.

Brendan removed his arm from my shoulders and rose from his chair. “That's a great idea!” he said, beaming at her. “Do you guys want to sit down? Should I get some more chairs or something?”

“What are you doing?” Veronica asked him, with an incredulous look on her face. “She can't sit here.”

“V, come on,” Brendan said quietly.

“Oh that's okay Brendan,” Meghan said, giving him a bruised look. “I just came to say hi.”

Aria rolled her eyes as I glared at Meghan, slightly impressed that she could play the victim so well. Aaron glanced at Jack, who was watching the scene unfold silently. Brendan sat back down on his chair uncomfortably, avoiding my eye contact.

“I got your messages by the way,” I told her, holding up my iPhone. “I must say, I didn't think cyber stalking was your style, but I guess it's not completely unbelievable.”

To be honest, I didn't think Meghan would randomly send me a stalker-esque message; it
wasn't
her style. But I wouldn't put it past her to go a little crazy when it came to making my life hell.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, looking genuinely confused.

“You didn't send Gia a message saying you're always ‘watching her'
?”
Aaron asked her.

Meghan put a perfectly manicured hand over her heart and gave me a hurt look. “I am deeply offended that you think I would be behind such a childish act,” she said, batting her fake eyelashes at me dramatically.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh give it up Meghan! Everyone knows you're a—”

“Did you know,” Brendan cut me off abruptly, fully aware that the situation would escalate if he didn't. “That Dr. Dre wants to do a record with Gia? Isn't that awesome?”

“Seriously?” Mischa said with a scoff. Meghan held up a hand, silencing her like the evil dictator she was.

“Oh,” Meghan began, unsure as to how to respond to that. “Yeah. That's cool. I didn't even know you could sing, or rap. Or whatever. Good for you.”

I smirked at her. It was clear she was biting back a snide remark to maintain her angelic reputation in front of Brendan, and give Jack a squeaky clean impression of herself. Brendan thought he was helping keep the peace on both sides, but really he was just making things worse for her and better for me. Lori and Mischa glanced at each other, struggling to keep in their own opinions.

“Well it's nice to meet you, Meghan.” Jack's voice came from behind me, and I shot him a death glare. He gave me a shrug and his lips curved into a half smile.

“So I'm having a party this Saturday to celebrate Gia's almost record deal. You guys wanna come?” Brendan asked.

It was like he was
asking
me to slap him. “Brendan!” I cried, my voice reaching a new octave.

“What?”

“I'd love to!” Meghan exclaimed, looking painfully smug. “You'll be there, won't you, Jack?”

Jack opened his mouth to say something and turned to look at my warning glower. He closed his mouth and gave Meghan a sweet smile.

“Absolutely.”

I reasoned with myself and took a deep breath. Stabbing Jack with a fork wasn't going to help the situation, so I decided against it.

“Nice outfit, Aria,” Lori said, looking distastefully at her silver glittery skirt. “Of course, my mother always told me that a lady never wears silver in the afternoon. It makes her look cheap.”

“Really?” Aria exclaimed with fake fascination. “Well if I ever meet a lady, I'll let her know.”

Veronica gave a bark of laughter and I glanced at my lap, suppressing a smile. At least I was polite enough not to laugh at Lori right in front her. Meghan kept her eyes fixated on Jack with a tight smile on her face, before spinning on her pencil-thin Louis Vuitton heels and walking off silently, taking long strides with her two loyal friends behind her.

“What the hell was that?” I cried, smacking Brendan on the arm the moment Meghan was out of earshot.

“Ow! What are you talking about? I just invited her to—”

“—a party that you're not even having!”

“Who said?” Brendan rubbed his arm where I had hit him. “My parents are going to Boston for the weekend so I'll have the house to myself. I was just about to tell you before Meghan came over.”

I took my bag and whacked him again on the arm. “So then why'd you invite her?”

“Gia,” Brendan said reasonably. “Don't you think it's time to give up these childish games? I mean, Meghan's always making an effort and you come across as kind of bitchy.”

I gaped at him incredulously. He couldn't be serious; there was absolutely no way. I mean, Meghan was a self-righteous concubine, and Brendan was falling right into her trap.

“Oh come on, Brendan,” Aria said, making a face. “Everyone knows Meghan's evil and she only acts all innocent around you because she wants you to get in her last season's Tibi pants.”

Brendan shook his head disappointedly and said, “You girls, she's not even that bad! In fact, she's actually pretty funny. The other day—”

“Oh yeah?” I snapped, clutching my bag as I pulled my chair back. “Well if she's so freakin' fantastic, then why don't you make
her
your girlfriend?”

I hiked my bag strap onto my shoulder and pushed past Brendan roughly, leaving my sunglasses on the table. He tried to grab my hand to stop me, but I yanked it away and stalked off toward the lockers. I could hear Jack calling my name behind me, but I ignored him. Stupid Brendan could have stupid Meghan. If he was crazy enough to think someone like that was great, then he deserved her.

On top of that, Jack was proving to be more of a distraction than I had imagined he would be. His blonde hair made me want to read Shakespeare and use words like “glisten” or “scintillate.” The last thing I needed was a ridiculously attractive guy up in my face all the time, especially when my boyfriend was being such an ass.

“Gia!”

“WHAT!”

I whirled around and smacked right into Jack's chest, which after all of this bumping into, I had realized was toned
as hell
. Jeez, he was always sneaking up behind me. I reminded myself not to run my hands down his abs, as it would be far too awkward to explain later. I took a step back and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face.

“Go away, Jack. You can be my bodyguard later.”

“What, did she steal your cheerleading routine or something?”

I glared at him. “Was that another joke? Because it wasn't funny.”

“Not big on humor, I can see.”

“I don't suppose you can have her . . . removed?”

Jack gave me a knowing look and said, “Gia, I'm a bodyguard. I'm not an assassin.”

I pouted. “Once again, you're proving to be completely useless.”

“Oh relax, she's just a girl. You can take her.”

“Meghan isn't just
some girl,
Jack!” I practically exploded. “I hate her with every morsel of my body! This isn't some clichéd high school movie, where we were best friends in second grade but now she hates me, even though everyone knows we'll let it go and become friends again at the end. We've always hated each other, and we always will. Brendan knows that! Or at least he should.”

“Well,” Jack said, putting his hands in his pockets casually. “Then don't go to the party on Saturday.”

I gave a deep sigh. “Well I have to go, now! Meghan will be there for sure, and if I'm not there something's bound to happen between the two of them. I don't trust her at all.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “But you trust Brendan?”

“Of course,” I replied quickly. “It's just, Meghan will do something and he won't have time to say no.”

Jack gave me pitying look and said, “I don't know what's worse. The fact that you may actually believe that, or that you're trying to get me to believe it.”

“I don't pay you to pass judgement.”

“Actually, you don't pay me at all. Your dad does. And he doesn't like the guy too much either.”

“Well
I
trust him!” I exclaimed, taking another step back. I figured I could subtly inch away from him, far enough to not be able to hear him. The conversation would have to end then. “I mean, I'd practically let him perform heart surgery on me! That's how much I trust him!”

Okay, maybe I had gone slightly overboard with my “I trust Brendan” speech. Jack grinned and my heart started dance battling inside my chest.

“Gia,” Jack began, trying not to laugh. “I wouldn't trust him with the game
Operation.
I doubt he even knows where the heart is located.”

“It's a difficult organ to locate!”

Jack shook his head, but stayed silent. He didn't need to say anything; his judgement was pretty obvious. I hiked my bag's strap higher up my shoulder just as the bell signaling the end of lunch went off.

“Look,” I said, giving a frustrated sigh. “It doesn't matter what you think. I know why I'm going to that party, and that's what counts.”

“Whatever you say.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, flipping the tip of my ponytail behind my shoulder. “I bet you're having a great time relishing in my pain.”

“I'm just here to do my job,” Jack replied, but his smile gave away his amusement.

“A job that isn't actually necessary.”

“I think those text messages prove otherwise.”

“Seriously?” I asked, my irritation growing by the second. “
That
set you off? That was nothing! If I call Pizza Hut tonight, you're not going to shoot someone are you?”

“Hilarious,” Jack said, deadpan. “But you don't think it's a tiny bit suspicious that the day after your dad hires bodyguards for your protection, some random person starts telling you that they're constantly watching you?”

On the word “bodyguards” Jack lowered his voice, aware that we were in full eavesdropping range.

I let my arms fall to my sides, forcing all emotion off my face. “Well, I mean, if you put it like that . . .”

Brendan suddenly walked past Jack before he could respond, pushing him roughly into me. I turned around to look at him, just in time to catch the glare he had shot in Jack's direction. It was Jack's first day at school and he had already left a trail of destruction in his wake. The worst part was he didn't seem to care that he was slowly but surely ruining my life. For him, I was a source of entertainment.

“Perfect,” I said, throwing my hands in the air with frustration. “Just freaking perfect!”

“And you thought your life was nothing like a clichéd high school movie,” Jack said, tilting his head to one side with a smile.

A jealous boyfriend, a manipulative arch nemesis, a creepy stalker and a frustratingly good-looking bodyguard. Throw in some pom poms and a stolen cheer routine, and I was the definition of a cliché.

Ch
apter Three

The next sign that something disastrous was coming was kind enough to wait a few days before showing itself. It was Friday afternoon and I was sitting on an exercise ball in the indoor gym, letting the ball swivel to and fro underneath me. Ordinarily, there's no way I set foot in that gym unless I
really
force myself to. My love affair with sugar is too strong. Which isn't fantastic, because in Hollywood, your appearance defines you. Luckily, I'm one of those annoying people who can eat their weight in junk food and never gain a pound. That probably won't last forever, but I'm going to enjoy it while I can.

Unfortunately, it seemed that ever since the bodyguards had shown up, the gym was the only place I could really sit and think without being disturbed, despite all the rooms in the house. In particular, there was no escaping Jack and his painfully beautiful face. He was causing a lot of problems in my life, and I couldn't figure out a way to get him out. To make matters worse, Brendan hadn't spoken to me since the fight. Instead, we resorted to avoiding each other in hallways and shooting awkward glances whenever we were near one another. He hadn't even
tried
to talk to me. The day after our fight, he came to my locker before first period as if he wanted make up, but then he took one look at Jack and walked away silently. Which, let's face it, was a major overreaction. Clearly he disliked Jack, or was threatened by him or whatever, but too bad, buddy. He had started the fight with his “I love Meghan” fan club-style speech on how great she was. He could deal with it.

Worst of all, hating Jack was proving to be a major challenge for me. Sure, he was a jerk and all. But as it turns out, he was also really funny and smart, and it was a tough job pretending that I hated him twenty-four-seven. Also, he looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model, so that didn't hurt either. He was always just
there
, making it hard for me to actually decide what I felt about him. He was like a constant distraction and when I was around him I couldn't breathe properly. If that continues, I might actually just stop breathing one day because I forget how to.

As if that all that wasn't bad enough, Jack had quickly become the most popular guy in school. Everywhere we went, people would flock as though Drake were having a concert in the hallway. It wasn't just the girls who were batting their eyelashes and reapplying lip-gloss when he was around. Even the male population of LAC Elite thought he was the best thing to have ever happened to the world. No wonder Brendan hated the guy so much; Jack had managed to achieve what he couldn't in just a few days. If anything, people were only going to show up to Brendan's party in hopes that Jack might get drunk enough to make out with them, the males probably included.

So there I was, sitting on an exercise ball, plotting my next move. Driving Jack out of the house was turning out to be a huge failure, and I wasn't sure how long I could continue being a psycho freak. It didn't seem to be getting on my dad's nerves at all. In fact, the only person who was constantly annoyed was me. I was considering drawing out my plan of action, stick figures and all, when I heard footsteps coming from the stairs.

“Gia?” Jack's voice called out.

I shot up from the exercise ball, stumbling a little as I regained my balance. Shoot! Jack couldn't walk in on me in a gym not doing anything! He probably dated supermodels in his spare time, supermodels that go on the elliptical machine for fun!

I did some quick thinking and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to add volume to the top. The footsteps were coming closer and I was running out of time. I practically ripped my jacket off me, revealing the spandex crop top and body-hugging tights I had on underneath. I had bought the work-out clothes almost a year ago when the girls and I decided we were going to get into shape, eat our veggies and do more squats. Only Aria really stuck to that promise, but even she gave up after a few weeks. If I was going to pretend that I was a health-goddess with Jack in the house, then I needed to look like one. The spandex had really made the most sense at the time, even if it didn't exactly fit right anymore.

“Hey,” Jack said, padding into the gym.

I kicked the jacket to one side, leaning against the treadmill as seductively as I could.

“'Sup?” I said casually, giving him a nod of acknowledgment.

He looked around the gym, nodding in what I hoped was appreciation. I mean, I don't even like working out and I'll be the first to admit that having a gym as awesome as ours in your own home is pretty damn fantastic. The surround sound alone is reason enough to hang out in there.

“Nice,” he said, looking at the many flat screen TVs across the walls. I could only hope I was included in that assessment.

I smoothed my hair down a little from the ends, suddenly very conscious of my crop top and super tight pants. The aim was to look sexy, but I was pretty sure I just looked like an idiot stuffed in clothes too small for her.

“Did you need something?” I asked, reaching for my water bottle. I heaved a deep sigh, like I had been working my butt off and had only stopped because of his interruption.

“Your dad wants to know when you're going to stop pretending to work out,” Jack said, and I practically spat the water out of my mouth in embarrassment.

I forced it down and said, “Excuse me?”

“His words, not mine.”

I put the water bottle down on the floor next to me, hoping the tight pants would hug all the right places as I was bending.

“I'm not
pretending
,” I snapped. “I just burnt off like, all of my calories for today on the treadmill.”

Jack's gaze diverted to the treadmill, and I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. “It's not even on,” he said.

“I just turned it off.”

Jack looked at me, and I raised my eyebrows. “It's not even plugged in.”

Whoops. Why did I have to go with the treadmill? There was enough gym equipment in there to stock a nation, and I chose the one thing that wasn't freaking plugged in.

“What are you, the treadmill police?” I asked. “What do you want?”

“I don't want anything. Your dad wa—”

“Yeah,” I interrupted. “But why'd he send you to ask? What are you, his new messenger boy?”

Jack gave a small smile and said, “Actually, he sent Mike. But I don't think your brother was paying attention. And I was bored, so I figured I may as well check out the gym.”

If he wanted to check me out while he was it, I had no issues with that.

“Well,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “All checked out. You can go now.”

I was suddenly becoming desperate for an opportunity to put the jacket back on and fix my hair. Jack hadn't hit on me once, so I clearly wasn't pulling off the fitness guru look I had been aiming for.

“Woah,” Jack said, walking toward a piece of large equipment that had all these weights and handles and scary looking things all over it. “This is pretty heavy duty stuff. Who uses it?”

“My dad, mostly. Although not so much anymore,” I replied, watching a clearly impressed Jack inspect the equipment. “And when he wants to impress his friends, Mike will use it sometimes.”

Jack looked up at me. “And you of course,” he said, his lips curving into a smile.

“Right,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I use that all the time.”

“Yo, sis!” I heard Mike say from behind me. I looked over at him, just as he walked into the room. “Dad wants to know when you're gonna stop pr—”

“I got it!”

Jeez. Dad was majorly salting my game here. Mike looked at me, my tight as hell outfit, Jack's face, and then back at me.

“Am I interrupting?” he said, and I narrowed my eyes at him as aggressively as I could.

“No!”

“Just asking,” he replied, clearly pleased with himself.

Jack came up from behind and stood next to me. I could feel him glance at me but I didn't do the same. There was no way I was looking at him directly in the eye while standing that close to him. The crop top was definitely a bad idea. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

“What are you even doing in here, anyway?” Mike asked. “You never work out.”

“That's not true!” I snapped defensively. “I exercise all the time.”

“You only come in here to sit on the exercise ball,” Mike replied, giving me a knowing look.

“Excuse me?” I exclaimed, deeply offended. “I use a bunch of stuff in the gym.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Reflexively, I looked at Jack, as if he could offer some help. He just looked back at me blankly, waiting for me to answer.

“The . . . bench press thing,” I finally said, turning back to my brother.

Mike gave a bark of laughter. “Do you even know what that looks like?”

“I know that if I pick up one of these dumbbells and throw it at you, it would probably do some serious damage,” I said, smiling sweetly. “How's
that
for gym knowledge?”

“Oh please,” Mike replied. “You can't even pick one of these up, let alone throw one at me.”

“You really wanna test that theory?”

Jack gave a quiet laugh next to me, and I realized how childish I was coming across. Not at all the poised supermodel I had planned to be. But spend a minute with my brother, and you'll understand. He just brings out the violent side in everyone.

“Whatever,” Mike said, turning to leave.

“Oh, and Mike?” I said, just as he made it to the door. “If you prank call me one more time, so help me, I will shove my foot
so
far down your throat tha—”

“Oh my God!” Mike groaned, spinning around to face me. “For the last time, Gia. It's not me!”

I scoffed. “Yeah right!”

Mike gave a frustrated sigh and said, “I don't need a phone to piss you off, Gia. I live with you! If I really want to get on your nerves, I'd just break into your closet and throw your shoes all over the floor.”

My jaw dropped in sudden realization. “I
knew
that wasn't a raccoon!” I cried, practically launching myself at Mike.

“Woah, woah!” Jack said, stepping in. “Calm down!”

He extended his arm out, using it as a kind of barricade between Mike and I, just as I lurched forward. I slammed right into his arm, immediately becoming rigid when my bare skin came into contact with his. Stupid, stupid crop top! What the hell was I thinking? Mike, in the meantime, had taken the opportunity to walk out of the gym and leave me to make a fool of myself in front of Jack. I took an almost hilariously giant step back, regaining my composure and trying to stop my cheeks from burning up.

“I'm going to kill him,” I mumbled. Jack gave a small headshake.

“What's this about prank calls?” he asked.

“Ugh! It's just my brother has decided that his new favorite hobby is creeping me out over the phone!”

“Creeping you out?” Jack repeated. “How?”

“Super cliché,” I replied. “Heavy breathing, occasionally whispering my name. Sometimes it sounds like he's talking to someone else on the phone. Maybe it's his friend Josh. That kid is such a perv, I swear.”

“Okay, woah, slow down,” Jack said. “Describe these conversations to me.”

I sighed, as if talking was such an effort. “The phone will ring, I'll pick it up and I'll say hello. It'll be silent for a few seconds and then randomly people will start talking about stuff that doesn't even make sense. Then I usually just hang up.”

“What do they say?”

“Weird stuff. Once, it was two guys yelling at each other. One kept going on and on about how the other one was meant to have his back, or something. Another time, it was like a whole freaking monologue on life! Like, what the hell? It was so messed up.”

Jack gave me a confused look. “What? That doesn't make any sense.”

I nodded and said, “Told you. Although sometimes I think they sound kind of familiar.”

“The voices?”

“Yeah. That's why I think it's Mike, he's pretty good at accents. But mostly it just sounds like someone's watching a movie and they forgot to turn it down when they called.”

“When was the last time you got one of these calls?” Jack asked me.

“Maybe an hour ago?” I replied, shrugging.

“Does it come up with a number?”

“Um, it's a prank call. They're not going to put their number on there so I can call back!”

He was hot, but he wasn't very smart, clearly.

“How long have you been getting these calls?” Jack asked, and I tapped my foot impatiently.

“I don't know, a week? Are we done with the interrogation, Sherlock?”

“Gia,” Jack said, giving me a serious look. “Did you ever consider that maybe the phone calls have something to do with those texts you got a couple of days ago?”

I stared at him. What? I had been so caught up with everything else; I had forgotten about the messages.

I shook my head and said, “Jack, this is all just some lame joke. There's no conspiracy here. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“But it makes sense, doesn't it? What I'm saying?” Jack replied.

It did, kind of. But there was no way I was telling him that.

“No.”

“Gia.”

“Whatever, Jack!” I exclaimed. I was getting really tired of talking about the whole thing. “Obviously Mike has nothing better to do right now, but he'll get bored eventually and it'll stop.”

“Alright,” Jack said. He was clearly not pleased, but he knew there was no way to prove it was something bigger. The scoreboard was finally giving me something to celebrate.

But then it hit me. I wasn't wrong about the random conversations. In fact, I was exactly right. They weren't random at all; they
were
dialogues from movies. My dad's movies, to be exact. No wonder they sounded so familiar!