Fake It Till You Bake It(8)

Except social media was no longer her sanctuary. People had left all kinds of “fun” messages on her various pages. She’d shut off notifications. Only pride had stopped her from locking the pages, or, worse, deleting them altogether. If people wanted to show their asses on someone else’s page, then let them. Jada sighed.

Olivia squeezed her arm. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. I’m talked out though.” Olivia had heard all the thoughts rioting through her head since filming ended and even more once the show started airing. No need to regale her with them for the thousandth time.

Time to move on. Literally. She dropped off Olivia at her place after declining her friend’s offer to come in for dinner and some Netflix relaxation time. Right now, she needed to decompress from the afternoon’s festivities alone.

A few minutes later, her shoulders drooped in relief as she entered her condo. Well, not her condo, exactly. Her family owned the property in Mission Hills, but since she was the only one staying there at the moment, it was hers.

She kicked off her black patent leather stilettos. They were her favorite pair, the ones she wore when she needed a little extra confidence booster, but she’d reached the end of her daily limit of heels wear. Looking effortlessly chic was a lot of work.

Dinner was next. Thank God for food delivery apps. Cooking was so not her forte. Her phone buzzed as she dug it out of her purse. She groaned at the name that appeared on the screen. She only hesitated a half second before answering. “Hi, Grams.”

“Oh, so you do know how to answer the telephone?” her grandmother, one Mrs. Joyce Townsend, replied.

Jada dropped her head into her free hand. “I love you, Grams.” And she did. So much. She would never say her grandmother was her only family member who loved her because that wasn’t true. Her parents and only sibling loved her deeply. They also didn’t understand her and wanted to change her into someone they did understand. Grams had never done that.

Grams’s sniff came through the phone loud and clear. “Hmmph. I wouldn’t know it considering this is the third time I’ve called you in the last twenty-four hours.”

Jada swallowed as guilt grabbed her by the throat. “I texted you.”

“Texted? I want to hear your voice. But I know you young people have a bad habit of thinking texting equates to an actual conversation, which is the only reason I didn’t call the police.”

Jada headed for the living room, suppressing a sigh. “I know.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally came home.”

Home. As in San Diego. At eighteen, college in New York had offered the perfect excuse to leave. Since then, she’d only made infrequent visits home to see her family and friends.

“I’m sorry.” She said that a lot. She was used to saying it.

“Did you have a good day?”

Unbidden, a man and his cupcakes popped into her consciousness. Not the crazy Darth Avenger ladies, strangely enough. “It was fine.”

“Are you okay?”

The genuine concern in her grandmother’s voice almost undid her. Jada sank down on her couch. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse.”

Grams sighed. “I told you I didn’t think doing that show was a good idea. I might be old, but I know reality TV producers are nothing but vultures.”

“Live and learn.” And it wasn’t like it had been awful. Not until the end when she’d turned the whole thing into a poopshow, which the producers had loved. Well, after they’d gotten over their shock and horror that she’d ruined their carefully constructed plans.

Lila Patterson, the show’s creator and executive producer, ran a tight ship and made it her business to know what the show’s participants would say almost before they said it. She’d been the main one pressing her on why she’d turned down John’s proposal.

Jada had had no idea what to tell her, so she blurted out the first thing to come to mind—that she’d said no because there was someone at home she couldn’t stop thinking about. The TV exec had changed her tune slightly when the finale aired and the show received more attention than it had in years, but Jada knew Lila was currently unhappy with her because she’d declined to do any interviews.

After listening to the first few voice mails and Lila’s cajoling tone, which did little to disguise how pissed she was, Jada now sent all her calls to voice mail and ignored her texts.

Grams sighed, thankfully interrupting that upsetting train of thought. “Not like this, Jada. I worry. How can I make sure you’re okay if you won’t even come see me?”

Jada side-eyed the phone before lifting it back to her ear. “We’ve moved on to guilt, I see.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

Grams’s voice lightened. “Then I haven’t lost my touch.”

Jada shook her head. Like there was any chance of that happening. Her grandmother was the smartest, sharpest person she knew. Her parents and sister were all certified geniuses and Grams left them all in her dust. “You’re too much.”

“Thank you! You know I love a compliment. Since I know you feel the same, here’s one for you. I see your potential.”

Gratitude swept through Jada. Her grandmother often had a sixth sense for saying exactly what she needed to hear. “Thanks, Grams.”