We walked past them leisurely (for better pictures), but we didn't linger. The idea was that we were in a bit of a hurry, like the photographers weren't half the reason we were there. It would never do to seem too desperate, even if desperation was half of our profession.
At least half.
We'd chosen a particularly nice day to visit Carbon Beach. Only a dozen or so other people were lounging about, giving us plenty of room to play.
"Did they follow?" Farrah murmured as we laid out our towels.
I glanced around surreptitiously. "Yes. At ten o'clock."
"Looks like the show must go on," Demi added, her tone flat.
I glanced at her, studying her face. She didn't seem like herself. Not at all.
I moved under the shade of the umbrella that Anton was propping up for me and closer to Demi. "Is everything okay?" I asked her.
She sent me a sheepish smile. "Yes. Of course!" she rallied, shrugging off her purple cover-up. Underneath was a lavender string bikini that was tinier than anything I'd ever seen her wear.
I checked her out. "You look fucking hot, Demi," I pointed out. It was not her usual style, but she was knocking it out of the park.
She blushed, and it was as adorable as it sounds. "Thank you."
"I second that," Harry said with a grin.
I shot a glance at Anton, who had the balls to be eyeing her bountiful chest, the lech. Some devil got ahold of my tongue. "Do you third it, Anton?" I asked him archly.
"She's basically naked, but yeah, the view is fantastic," he said succinctly, sounding downright bitter about it.
I glanced down at myself, then at Farrah and Leona, who were already laying out. It was skimpy for Demi, but she wasn't showing more skin than anyone else was.
My eyes narrowed on Anton as my preoccupied brain finally caught up to what was going on.
He was jealous. Over Demi. Uh uh. Nope. He was a shameless man-whore, and he was not allowed to go there. Not with my too innocent, too sweet friend.
"Hey, beardo," I called to him, already moving away and toward the water. "A word."
He joined me in the surf. We were up to mid-calf in the water, and, mindful of the photographer that still had us in his sights, I threw my arms around Anton's neck, leaning into him.
He gripped my waist lightly with his big hands, very familiar with the routine.
I wondered if he could tell that I was glaring at him through my dark shades. "You know Demi is off-limits, right?"
His mouth twisted like he'd just tasted something sour. "What are you talking about?"
"My friend. Demi," I emphasized.
"She's my friend, too. What about her?"
"She's too innocent for you. She's not a casual girl. You'd break her heart. You know that, right?"
He lowered his shades enough to shoot me a belligerent glance. "I'm well fucking aware."
"I'm not sure you are. You're acting possessive about her. And I saw the way you were looking at her in that bikini."
"I was looking at all of you like that. You just didn't see it. I like bikinis. And skin."
I wasn't buying it. "So we're clear? No messing with Demi?"
"Message received. I get it; you're a mama bear with your friends. How about you give this speech to Mr. Hella Bruh that's pawing her over there?"
I glanced over at Demi and Harry. Anton was exaggerating. Mostly. Harry was just helping her apply sunblock.
"You're only proving my point right now," I pointed out.
"Fine. I'll drop it. I'll try my best to stay away from our sweet Demi from here on out."
I studied him. The way he said it made me wonder if something had already happened between them.
I glanced at Demi, who was indeed getting more and more cozy with Mr. Hella Bruh and decided against it. There was no way she'd be so nonchalant around Anton if that were the case.
That settled, we put on a great show for the cameras, frolicking in the surf, canoodling in the sand.
I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point the day went from faking fun for the cameras to actively enjoying myself.
It was possibly around the time that we broke out the bottles of pre-maid cocktails we'd packed in lieu of a picnic lunch. Who needs food when you can have liquor?
We chatted about nothing and everything as we pretended to lay out to tan, when in actuality we were all sun-blocked into oblivion and reapplying every quarter hour. Because wrinkles.
"I was sure that Lacy was going to get killed off in the season finale," Farrah was saying, referring to her recurring role as a biker groupie in Anton's show. She was such a hit that they kept bringing her back. "But I just got the script back, and they're keeping her! They're giving her a bigger role than ever in a story arc that goes into the next season!"
"That's amazing!"
"Congrats!"
"They know their audience!"
"Awesome!"
We all congratulated her and meant it. I personally thought she was brilliant in the role. She was a valley girl and an ex-cheerleader, so it was a testament to her talent that she could pull off the role of a hardened biker chick so perfectly.