The Little Barmaid Page 3

  My brain was slowly, very slowly, catching up to this situation. Derek probably thought I was a dolt. My heart felt like it was in my throat, not because I was still scared—that was wearing off—but because I was sitting in the car with Derek Prince.

  “Oh. Well, yes,” he was saying in that low, lovely voice of his, “they sort of mobbed me, you see. I was looking to get away from them and I saw your car and it’s the same model that my friend Mia drives, and I thought you were her coming to rescue me. I knew I needed to get out of that situation fast and I guess I should have checked to see if it was really her before I jumped in.” He trailed off, staring at me. “What?” he asked.

  I shook my head at him. “I’m just trying to process all of this. It’s not every day a movie star jumps into my car to escape a flash mob of thirsty women. Or anyone.”

  Who jumps into moving cars at all? Also, how the heck did he even manage it? My car is tiny. I’m only five-three and I wasn’t sure I could jump into it that gracefully. I shook my head in bemused disbelief.

  Derek was grinning at me. I stared warily back at him. God, that smile. That smile could convince me of anything.

  “So, you have heard of me.” For whatever reason, I got the feeling that he was surprised and pleased to hear that. Ridiculous. Totally and completely ridiculous.

  I laughed, unable to stop myself over the absurdity of this entire situation. “Of course, I’ve heard of you,” I told him. “Everybody’s heard of you and your family. That’s why you got assaulted, remember?”

  He flashed a movie star smile at me. “You’re not assaulting me.” Was he disappointed?

  I giggled. “I don’t generally assault strange men who hop into my car. It’s bad manners.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he replied, still looking at me in a way that made my heart pound. “I don’t generally jump into moving cars.”

  “That’s probably a safe choice.”

  “I don’t generally aim to terrify beautiful women, either.”

  I blinked at him. Derek Prince thought I was beautiful? He was probably just being polite. I bit my lip, uncertain.

  “Is your wheel okay from where you smacked the curb?” he asked.

  “It’s probably fine,” I mumbled. I smacked into curbs on a regular basis, even when movie stars weren’t dropping in on me.

  “We should exchange numbers just in case. I’ll pay for it if it’s damaged.”

  “Oh, um, okay,” I mumbled, fumbling for my phone, typing in his number and giving him mine.

  What was happening? God, he was charming. Was he trying to be charming or was it just natural? I should still be screaming at him, but I wasn’t. Instead, we were having a perfectly nice conversation. I hoped it wouldn’t end.

  “This has been a very strange day,” I muttered.

  Ursula had promised me that her lawyer would be emailing me some paperwork to review this evening. I wanted to get excited about the prospect of actually working in Hollywood, but I needed it to be real first. I needed to know what was happening before assigning any emotions to it—positive or negative. Sebastian had sent me home, correctly interpreting my starstruck, overwhelmed mood and determining that I’d be useless for the rest of the night. He called in another waitress and insisted that I get some rest.

  “Tell me about it,” Derek said, shaking his head for reasons of his own. “I think today is just the day of unrelenting weirdness.”

  The moment lengthened between us. We were sitting motionless in the alleyway, in the dark. It might have been halfway romantic if it weren’t so weird. My heart was still pounding away in my chest, and I wondered vaguely how many gray hairs I’d just added to my head as a result of the last ten minutes.

  “So, um,” I managed eventually. “I was just heading to get some dinner...”

  He blinked. “Oh, right. I should get out of your car, huh?” I didn’t know what to say. I just stared at him. He paused with his hand on the door. “Unless… do you want to go get dinner with me instead?” he asked.

  Derek Prince was asking me out? I didn’t know what to say. He was probably just looking for an easy hookup. I could only imagine that girls like me were a dime a dozen for a guy like him.

  “Dinner?” I was reduced to parroting his statements back to him.

  Derek Prince was asking me out? On a date?

  “Sure,” he offered, looking at me interestedly. “I could thank you for rescuing me and you could tell me why your day was weird.”

  My heart fluttered.

  “I’m not sure I did rescue you,” I replied. “You pretty well rescued yourself. I was just nearby and in a familiar-looking car. Besides I almost killed us both.”

  “So, you admit that your driving left something to be desired.”

  I glared, annoyance rushing back in an instant. “I reacted to a bad situation that I did not create. Besides, you’re alive, aren’t you?”

  He laughed. “I was just joking. And yes, I’m grateful to be alive. I’d still like to buy you dinner to thank you,” he told me, looking at me curiously. “If only to thank you for not calling the police and having me arrested.”

  Ursula had been very clear that my participation in the production would require absolute secrecy. I hadn’t even seen the contract yet, but I couldn’t imagine she would be pleased to see that I was sitting in the car with her costar. Besides, I was intimidated. Although certainly not shy, I had a hard time believing that Derek Prince was genuinely interested in me.

  Only the timing couldn’t be worse.

  “I’d better not,” I told Derek. “I’ve got an audition first thing tomorrow morning at five a.m.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re an actor?”

  I shook my head. “A bit, I guess. Mostly a dancer.”

  He couldn’t know that I could sing. Even after just a brief interaction, I knew that Ursula would freak out if her costar knew she wasn’t really singing her part. She’d probably put a hit out on me or something. The woman was a bit scary.

  “Well, good luck. I understand why you don’t want to go out right before an audition,” Derek told me, stepping out of the car.

  “Actually, I was just going to go pick up In-N-Out,” I stuttered. “It’ll be pretty quick. Do you want to come?”

  I had no idea what was going on except that I wanted it to continue.

  He smiled and I melted like hot butter. “Sure.”

  5

  Derek

  “So,” I asked Ariel as we ate our meal in the tiny confines of Ariel’s beetle convertible, “how’d you end up with this killer little car?”

  My chatting skills with pretty girls had regressed ten years in the last ten minutes. Although I knew I should do better, I was apparently now back in high school where cars are a big deal. My eternal EGOTs quest had not left much time for dating in the past, oh, decade. I could count my dates on my fingers, and except for a few drunken, one-night stands, I’d had no action to speak of in the past five years. I was utterly unprepared to be so attracted to someone. I met pretty girls all day long, and usually I was able to be perfectly suave. Not tonight.

  I was just trying to figure out something to say. I used to be so charming. At least, I think I was. I used to at least be able to make small talk. I desperately wanted to impress the woman in front of me, but I couldn’t for the life of me find the right words. I felt like I was doing this all wrong. Was flirting always this hard?

  Ariel blinked her big blue eyes. “It’s my uncle’s car, actually. It’s neat though, huh? It’s a 1978 model. I hope I look as good when I’m 42.”

  With her classic beauty, I’m sure she’d look good forever. Ariel, not the car. God, what was wrong with me? I wasn’t even making sense in my own brain.

  “As long as you get regular oil changes and tire rotations, I’m sure you will.”

  She gave me a weird look. “Uh sure. I’ll get right on that.”

  What was happening? I was better than this. I was clever. Affable.
Smart. People said so. Women said so. Maybe I’d hit my head or something? I hoped it was just a little brain damage.

  “So, what are you auditioning for tomorrow?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

  She flushed. “It’s a dancing role in a movie. Rumor has it, you’re the lead, actually.”

  “You follow rumors about my career?” My voice was hopeful, but she seemed mortified.

  “No, um, I just heard that somewhere,” she replied, wide-eyed.

  “I’m flattered,” I told her, smiling and watching her skin turn as red as her hair.

  “I don’t follow rumors about your career,” she mumbled, looking anywhere but at me. Her fingers fiddled with the ends of her long red hair that had escaped her updo on our breakneck ride. “Really.”

  I smiled, feeling a bit more like I knew the territory. She was a fan? I liked the idea of her watching my movies. I hoped she found me entertaining… and attractive.

  “Never?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied haughtily. “Of course not. I’m not some screaming fan girl.”

  “Too bad.”

  “If that’s really important to you, I can scream at you some more,” she said. “But I thought we were past that.”

  “So, you’re too good for movies?” I teased.

  “Obviously not, I’m auditioning for one tomorrow.”

  “What movie?” I questioned.

  I knew already, but I was making conversation that I wasn’t bombing. I didn’t want to jinx it.

  “She Done Him Wrong,” Ariel replied, still looking embarrassed. “It’s just a chorus girl position, I mean, not exactly my dream job but everybody’s got to start somewhere…” She trailed off uncomfortably.

  “What is your dream job?”

  Her gaze flitted to mine and then immediately away. “Whatever pays the bills for now.”

  “And then what? Stunt driver?” I supplied.

  “No. Not stunt driver.” She frowned and rolled her eyes. “You’re not funny.”

  “The People’s Choice awards for 2017 disagreed with you when they voted me best actor in a comedy,” I joked. I was funny…right?

  “2016,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Eventually I want to be on Broadway,” she replied in a hurry.

  “As a dancer?” I probed, momentarily distracted from her correction of the year I’d won the award. She looked like a dancer. She looked much more like a dancer than a stunt driver.

  She nodded and her red curls bobbed.

  “Broadway is great,” I told her. “Cutthroat, but no worse than the movies. It’s tons of fun. You should probably move to New York though. There’s not that much dance work here in LA.”

  “Well, I have to make enough money to move across the country first,” she replied simply. She stared down at her hamburger. The one I hadn’t paid for.

  I felt like an idiot. A rude idiot. I rarely thought about money. When your dad is a tech billionaire turned eccentric philanthropist and movie magnate, there’s really no need. I’d been born rich and gotten famous. The struggles of most actors had never applied to me.

  “Oh, right,” I managed. “That makes sense.”

  “What made you want to come be in movies?” she asked next. “Why would you want to leave the stage?”

  I shrugged. “EGOTs. And my brother.”

  “Which brother?”

  I was blessed with three brothers, all Hollywood mainstays. “The ugly one.”

  I meant my fraternal twin, Tommy, but didn’t want to get into it. The jerk had just beat me to an Oscar. Granted, he didn’t have any of the others…

  “You don’t have any ugly brothers,” Ariel was replying. “I mean, there’s definitely a hierarchy, but…” she trailed off, looking mortified.

  “You are a fan, aren’t you?” I pushed. It was obvious. I don’t know why she didn’t want to admit it.

  “No,” she replied, sticking her nose in the air like she was too refined for movies. “I’m just a movie buff and discerning woman. The Prince family is everywhere, so it’s not like I can avoid an opinion.”

  I smirked at her. “Okay, okay. How about you settle a long-standing question for me. Who’s the best-looking Prince family member?” I asked curiously. This was always a topic of discussion when my brothers got together.

  Say me.

  Say me.

  She stared at me. “Scarlett.” Ariel’s face was certainly scarlet.

  I laughed. Scarlett Prince was my newborn cousin, the daughter of my uncle Connor. “Well-played.” I shook my head. “She is cute.”

  Ariel followed at least one Prince family member’s career and gossip. The fact that it was my uncle Connor and not me was a bit of an ego blow, but I could deal. I would just make her like me through my winning personality. It was a shame I seemed to have forgotten it at home today.

  “I better get home,” she mumbled. “I really do have an early day tomorrow.”

  Ariel looked like she might spontaneously combust if I kept asking her questions. I’d probably pushed her about as far as I dared. It would take more than one conversation with her to draw her out. But I found myself fascinated. She was alternately tough and vulnerable, open and secretive, and so pretty I could stare at her all night. But as much as I wanted to stay with her, I knew my time was up. Any longer, and I’d just be creepy.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Ariel,” I told her, hopping out of the convertible. I could call an Uber from here. “I hope I’ll see you on set. Break a leg.”

  “Thank you. It was nice meeting you, too. Except for the whole jumping into my car thing. I could have done without that.”

  “Next time, I’ll do better. You’ve got my number. Call me sometime and I’ll prove it to you. We’ll go out for real and I’ll show you I’m not crazy.”

  She smiled at me like I was teasing her. After she drove off, I felt alternately better and worse than I had in a long time. There was something about that girl.

  6

  Ariel

  “Ariel, we need to talk.” My dad’s voice sounded disappointed. That was nothing new. I was always a source of disappointment to him in one way or another. But I’d just gotten a job and Derek Prince’s phone number. I could do anything.

  “What’s up?” I asked warily. I wasn’t really in the mood for another long lecture about how I wasn’t living up to my potential. After the insane day I’d had, I really wanted to curl up in my bed and try to make some sense out of it. I met Ursula Jones. She offered me a job. Then I met Derek Prince. We ate hamburgers. My mind was still blown.

  “I know you haven’t applied to Stanford,” my dad told me. “I called the dean today to ask about your application and he said you hadn’t even sent in an LSAT score.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  He knew.

  He knew I hadn’t taken the test. He knew I hadn’t applied anywhere. He knew I’d been lying.

  “You did what?” I stuttered.

  “I called the dean,” he told me. “You know he’s an old law school buddy of mine, don’t you? I wanted to just, you know, help your application along a little bit. But you haven’t even applied?! Do you know how foolish that makes me look?”

  I swallowed my anger. “Dad, I don’t need you calling schools to get me in.”

  “Apparently you do,” he replied. “Because you aren’t even trying.”

  “I only lied because I knew you couldn’t handle knowing the truth.”

  “That you’re scared?” my dad asked soothingly. My blood boiled. “Sweetie, you’ll do fine on the test. You’re very smart.”

  “No! That I don’t want to go to law school.”

  He laughed. “Of course, you do.”

  “No. You want me to. I want to be here. In LA. Pursuing my dream.” I took a deep breath. “But now you know. At least it’s all out in the open now. You know I haven’t been working on applications. I haven’t been studying. And I’m not going to.”

&nb
sp; I rubbed my temples in frustration. I couldn’t see his condescending look, but I could imagine it. I could practically hear the expression. After all, I saw a lot of it. His blue eyes would be narrowed, freckled arms folded over themselves, and he’d be staring down his nose at me like I was a disobedient four-year-old who had just asked the world’s dumbest question. The silence lengthened. I hoped this was the end of the conversation.

  “Thankfully, I’ve taken care of it,” he said eventually. “But I can’t cover for you forever.”

  I blinked. Of course, it wasn’t the end of the conversation. How often did I get the last word? Never. However, his words weren’t making any sense to me.

  “What do you mean you took care of it?” I asked him. I’m sure my voice betrayed my fear.

  “You’ve been provisionally accepted into the next class,” my dad explained. “You need to move back here and enroll. You’ll have to submit an LSAT score as soon as possible.”

  My mouth fell open. “What do you mean I’ve been provisionally accepted? I didn’t apply to attend the school. I didn’t even take the LSAT.”

  There was no law school that would accept someone who didn’t take the LSAT, right? Especially if I didn’t want to attend…

  “I said I took care of it,” he repeated. “Don’t ask me how. But you can pay me back when you make partner. Buy me a Rolex or something.”

  My head, which had already not been feeling great, suddenly throbbed with a new headache. “Dad, I don’t want to be a lawyer,” I ventured. No matter how many times I tried to tell my dad this, he never seemed to be able to absorb it. “I don’t want to go to Stanford.”

  “It’s what you’re good at!” he snapped. “This is what you have to do!”

  I shook my head furiously from side to side and then instantly regretted it. Not only could he not see me, but the movement aggravated the pain. “Dad, we’ve been over this. That’s your dream for me. Not my dream for me.”

  “You’re right,” my dad said, although I didn’t trust it for a second. “We have been over this. But you’re still failing to make a compelling argument. We both know you’re not going to make it in LA.”