Starlight (Peaches Monroe #2)(67)
Author: Mimi Strong

My stand-in wandered off to go reflect light elsewhere, and I got onto the swing to be hoisted up.

Now.

I’ve mentioned the height and I’ve told you about the netting. You’re probably expecting me to have some hilarious malfunction and fall onto the net. Honestly, part of me expected the same thing, but it didn’t happen.

What did happen was something else I found troubling.

They winched me up, and there I sat, way up high, waiting. That part of the studio was like a gymnasium, and the view from my perch was impressive. I could see every person moving around—like my own personal video game. A guy came in the door from the hallway, and I squinted to get a better look, because he had a Dalton Deangelo aura about him. Was it the stand-in from the day before? No, it couldn’t be, because this guy was actually cute.

Time had flown by that day, and I wondered if Keith was already there to pick me up.

I waved, but the dark-haired guy didn’t see me, because a person doesn’t walk into an enormous room and scan the ceiling area for people he might know. After a minute of watching him walk around the room and talk to various people, I had no doubt it wasn’t Keith, but Dalton Deangelo. I’d know that vampire swagger anywhere.

He walked up to my stand-in, who wore a white robe over underwear similar to mine. Seeing him approach her made the hair stand up on the back of my neck, despite the heat I was in, up near the rafters.

The winch continued to rumble away, blocking all sound I might want to hear.

I watched the scene below, my mouth dropping more and more open, as Dalton chatted with the not-Peaches girl, doing flirty things like sweeping the blond hair from her face.

Holy shit, did he think he was talking to me? My eyes are blue, and that girl had brown eyes and a gap between her front teeth. But… he seemed to be staring more at her peaches than at her face, so perhaps he hadn’t noticed. They moved closer to a wall, where his body language got extremely flirty. With one palm on the wall, he leaned in over her, their faces close enough to kiss. Un-fucking-believable.

I nearly fell off my trapeze, but my survival instincts kicked in and I clutched the ropes. I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the equipment, but I just knew my evil double was giggling like crazy as smooth-talking Dalton fed her cheesy lines about being future old friends or stardust or whatever.

I tore my gaze off them, thoroughly annoyed, and spotted a clock on the far wall. Time had really flown by, and we were running behind, because it was already three o’clock. Keith would be arriving soon, and—

Movement below caught my eye.

Actually, Keith was already there, striding in through the side door. Striding over to where Dalton was talking to not-Peaches. Punching Dalton in the face.

NO!

I shrieked, leaning forward and nearly falling out and down to the netting.

Someone honked an air horn. I looked straight down at Mitchell, who gave me the thumbs-up, just as my trapeze began to twirl.

Another honk.

It was Mitchell, gesturing for me to arch my back as discussed.

But Keith just punched Dalton! Didn’t anyone else notice?

I arched my back and tried to think angelic thoughts as I twirled and twirled, descending from the heavens.

When I reached the bottom point, they turned off the winch so everyone could talk. I jumped off the swing and landed on the net. I swore at the thing as it grabbed at me, then finally extricated myself and started running toward Keith.

Keith stood with his chest out, having a face-off with Dalton, who was squinting, one eye already swelling up. Not-Peaches, my twin, had already run off and was nowhere to be seen.

I put one hand on each of the guys’ chests, trying my best to hold them apart before more damage happened to either of their faces.

“What the hell!” I yelled at both of them.

Shaking his head, Keith turned to me and said, “I came in here and saw him all over you, and I just lost it.”

“He was hitting on my stand-in, not me.”

Keith’s forehead wrinkled. “Yeah, I figured that out just as his face threw itself at my fist.”

Dalton rubbed his eye, grinning and taking a step back. “I guess I have a type,” he said to both of us.

I glared at him. “You guess you have a type? Really? What are you even doing here?”

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye yesterday.”

“So you thought you’d come say it to whoever looks like me?”

He looked down, grinning like he was thrilled to be busted. “She has a name, you know. Justine. She says you’re turning into a bit of a diva.”

Keith interrupted just then, saying, “You’re the f**king diva,” to Dalton. “Peaches got over you, and you can’t stand it.”

Dalton turned, like he was going to walk away, then twirled back and punched Keith in the face.

I screamed.

CHAPTER 25

Keith charged toward Dalton to retaliate, knocking them both to the floor.

“Not the face again!” Dalton yelled. “I’m an actor for f**k’s sake.”

Keith grumbled and panted, both of them wrestling on the floor like kids. “You punched me in the face, and I’m a model, you idiot. They could write a black eye into your stupid show. I don’t have that luxury.”

They rolled, over and over each other, arguing over whose face was more important.

Dalton growled, “What luxury? I can’t even get a haircut without approval.”

“Yeah? I can’t gain five pounds or I get fired.”

“Who’s your manager? That’s terrible. I have fifteen.”

“He said five pounds was STANDARD!”

Over they rolled again, both red-faced, yet not doing much more than fighting for top position.

Dalton replied, “You should fire him and call MY GUY!”

“Ow, ow. What the f**k? Are you pulling my hair?”

Dalton rolled on top. “Say uncle!”

He was pulling Keith’s hair, his hand full of it.

I looked around at our audience of two dozen or so people, all of them rapt. Three of them held up their cell phones, recording.

“Enough already!” I reached down and grabbed Dalton by the armpits and hauled him off Keith.

Keith jumped up and gave me an angry look, made even more crazy-looking by the swelling around his left eye. “I was just about to pin him,” he said.

“We’ll call it a draw,” I said, keeping them apart with the mere power of my steely glare. “People are watching, so why don’t we take this somewhere more private?”