“This is bullshit.” I lock eyes with Jeri as I roll my suitcase past her and up the bricked walk to Liesa’s front door.

Liesa throws the door open. Bob stands behind her, camera on his shoulder. Lurch dangles the mic like a fishing pole. She flings herself into my arms. The scent of her flowery perfume covers me like an invisible cape. “I’m so glad you agreed to stay with us.”

The story Jonas, Simone, and Jeri concocted and the scene we’d shot last night in another of the fine dining restaurants over one more lobster dinner—but this time, with colored water instead of wine—involved a fire in our condo and me being evacuated.

Here’s where we start the drama. “Us?” I ask with convincing innocence.

When this is all over, I’ve got a future in film.

Except I’m going so far underground they’ll have to dig to find my roof.

Liesa withdraws her arms from around my neck. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

At this point, Simone swings into the entryway, chiffon pool robe billowing around her trim, firm middle-aged body. I already heard her orders to Jeri and Tom to make sure she’d be airbrushed to a Christie Brinkley polish. Frankly, she looks awesome for her age. Six months ago, I’d have gone for her cougar routine. Right now, looking at her, I’m having a hard time keeping my distaste in check.

Because she isn’t Kylie.

Simone swoops toward me. Bob skitters around to the shot. She puckers up and smacks a kiss on my lips, her cloying musky perfume turns my stomach. I barely keep from wiping the back of my hand across my mouth, but I can’t stop the look of disgust that must cross my face. I guess it’ll be Jeri’s call whether that plays into the plot or not.

Simone grabs my hands. “So you’re Zach. Liesa has told me so much about you. But she didn’t mention how hot you are!” She jerks me closer to her. “I guess maybe she wanted to keep you to herself.” Now she lets go of one hand and pulls me into the house. “We’ll see about that.”

I twist my neck to see Liesa. Bob swings the camera from me to her. She adopts her trademark pre-tantrum face.

In a flash, she grabs my free hand and yanks me back. Simone doesn’t release her grip and there I stand in the dining room, the ocean glistening outside the wall of windows. Jeri flashes me an irritated grimace.

“Ricky,” Simone commands someone down a wide corridor. “Please make sure Zach’s bags are taken to the guest room.” She makes eye contact with Liesa. “Put him in the room with an ocean view, the one next to mine.”

What would I do if this was Kylie and not Liesa? I’d defend her, show her how much I care about her, protect her from this predator of a mother. I wrench my hand from Simone’s grasp. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Temple. If Liesa takes after you, it’s obvious her looks will stand the test of time.”

Simone seems taken back, not sure I’ve complimented her or called her old. She recovers and runs the tip of her tongue around the corner of her mouth. “You’re a charmer.”

I put an arm around Liesa and make myself see Kylie, her blonde hair and flashing blue eyes. Liesa has a similar blonde, blue-eyed beauty and it helps. I blink and see Kylie and pull Liesa close, kissing her with force, making it last a long time so I can keep my eyes closed, thinking of Kylie. But it’s not Kylie. Not even close. Liesa finally draws back.

As if relishing the taste of her, I hesitate before turning to Simone. “Niles always told me to check out the mother of any girl I’m interested in to see how she’ll age.”

I rub noses with Liesa, who looks equally as shocked as her mother.

Rubbing noses is for bunnies and weenies.

Liesa loves that pecking and petting shit and I’m on Team Liesa when it comes to Simone. “Liesa’s got a great future.”

She raises her chin and gives Simone a triumphant smirk. “Another gift you’ve given me.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and leads me out to the patio. “If you see Ricky, can you ask him to bring Zach and me some sex on the beach?” She giggles. “Tell him not to go light on the rum.”

Bob stays inside with Simone as Liesa and I follow the patio to the infinity pool that looks as though it spills into the ocean. She plops into a chaise and motions for me to take the one next to her. She takes my hand so it dangles between the two chairs, keeping us connected.

She turns to me, a bright smile on her face. “Just look at me like you want me. Like you can’t stand not tearing my clothes off.”

Kylie. I know how that feels.

I try to do as she asks. “Why? Bob stayed inside with Simone.”

She licks her lips. “He’s probably shooting us through a window. Lean over and kiss me softly.”

I hate this bullshit but do it. “How long do we need to keep this up?”

“Keep what up? My life?” The sadness in her voice makes guilt flush through me.

I’m an asshole. Can’t I at least be her friend?

I try to keep my face adoring. “It’s not you. It’s this damned fishbowl. It drives me nuts.”

She winks at me with the eye closest the windows behind us. “It’s a job. One neither one of us can quit. By the way, thanks for that, back there with Mother.”

I tilt my head back and laugh. I hope it looks more authentic than it sounds. “She really gets into this acting thing, doesn’t she?”

Liesa positions her head so her expression can’t be witnessed from anywhere but the expanse of the sea. “It’s not acting with her. Everyone else has a script or a role to play. Mother is always and only herself.”

Holy shit. If that’s the case, I have more to worry about than ratings. “Jonas sounded clear that the end result is you and me getting together. She’s in on that arrangement, right?”

Liesa turns her head giving me a rueful smile before looking away again. “Mother does what she wants.”

Ricky appears in white pants and white short sleeved shirt. He carries a tray with two glasses full of a pink slushy concoction, complete with pineapple chunks speared with paper umbrellas.

“Here you go, Miss Liesa,” he says, making a show of presenting her with the cocktails like their crown jewels. Somehow, he manages to ignore the cameras aimed at us through the window.

Liesa pops up to sitting and grabs the glasses. “Thank you, Ricky.” That was out-of-character polite for her. She thrusts one at me. “Here’s to a magical stay at my home.”

I hate sweet, fruity drinks. I quickly click glasses with Liesa and bypass the straw to tip the cold drink down my throat. I nearly gag. Sweet, syrupy, and no goddamned rum.