Click, Click (Bitch) (G)

“‘Click, Click’ is the thing everyone’s chanting as Grace Skybain’s new solo dropped out of nowhere this morning. A way to combat paparazzi invasiveness, it’s inspiring everyone to take a stand against such acts. Here’s Fabiniella Panini representing Della Dynamic’s views on the matter.”

I turned off the television, feeling prideful for once. Of course, the song had some problems—the beat wasn’t perfect, and neither were the instruments, and when you got to the chorus, I sounded like a high school drama reject. It was like I was cosplaying as the main character is exposed in some over-the-top scene. Did that make Jasper the protagonist since he was the one suffering because of that website. Oh, that fucking website. If I ever got my hands on the bitch in charge of it, I was going to. . .

Fuck, what would I do?

I knew self-defense, but I couldn’t hold my Sunshine in a jail cell. Besides, he wouldn’t want me to get in trouble over him—I’d tried to keep my oath to pebble the fuck out of the paparazzi, but then he confiscated my rocks. I smiled as I remembered finding them in a box, neatly stored. He was so damn considerate of me, and that’d only intensified since we’d started living together.

God, I’d been such a mess since that day, but it was just so weird to think about! If my family came over and saw my hairbrush mixed with his cologne, they’d be all like ‘oh, you guys are living together? How did that happen?” and I’d have to say ‘oh, a bunch of depraved excuses for people stalked him outside his house. Anyway, can I get you something to drink?’ Not that I had any relatives I wanted to invite over, but it was still a real possibility, especially since Jasper’s parents were—

Oh, God, the dinner!

What if they thought I was mooching off him by making him do all the work? When was the last time I’d cleaned the kitchen, or anywhere? Did he think I was just using him because he was such perfect house-husband material? Then again, if he’d had a problem, he probably wouldn’t have held me quite so tightly last night when we’d—

“Gracie?”

“Here, I’m yes.” Could I not even speak English right? “I mean, yes. I’m here.”

My Sunshine chuckled. “Okay, well can you get the door?”

Oh God, already? I couldn’t put together a parental meet-and-greet this fast! Could I order out? But then they’d think I was incapable of cooking. I mean, they’d be right, but—

“Dancer,” Jasper cooed. “Take a breath.”

“What about the food?” I asked. “I don’t have anything ready. And what are they interested in? I need to show them that I—”

“Grace, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s just my parents. Relax. I’ll let them in.”

“No, I can do it.”

I hesitated at the door, my anxiety skyrocketing. Why did it have to do that at the worst possible times? I could go on stage for thousands and be perfectly fine, but meet two people and my brain goes ‘time to panic! Gee, I sure hope this doesn’t affect how you interact with these people and, in turn, cause you even more distress.’

Fucking anxiety.

I opened the door to three lovely-looking people. The first was a relatively older woman who had Jasper’s eyes and hair, the golden locks kept down. The second was a man who was definitely the father, no paternity test needed. From the way he observed me to him preferring his right leg, they were basically twins. The final person was probably his sister Lacy, though I hadn’t known she was coming, or maybe I had and my anxiety brain had thrown the information out the window.

Miss Jasper’s mom smiled warmly at me. “You must be Grace.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said politely—or I hoped so, anyway. “Please, come in.”

“Oh, no need for all that, Gracie. Just call me Camila.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about her using my nickname this soon. Even Jasper had waited a few weeks before he tried it. He’d been so damn adorable then, peeking at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. His face had flushed like crazy when he’d done it, completely unaware of how much I’d wanted to hear him say it. But this was Jasper’s mother, so it was probably fine.

We met up in the main area as I watched them take in the scene. It made me feel like a fraud, to be honest. Every celebrity I’d seen on TV had some huge, elaborate floor plan, but I just had a bigger apartment than most. What if Camila saw it and assumed I was secretly in debt? She would frown at me, then take Jasper away because I’d be trying to shove my problems onto him. Not that I had any money deficits, but she didn’t know that!

“What a nice place you have, Gracie.” Again with the nickname.

“Thank you,” My smile felt real, so why did I have an ick in my stomach?

“Hey, mom!” came my wonderful boyfriend. “I’m just finishing up dinner. Give me a sec!”

“He’s making dinner?” Camila asked. “He hates cooking.”

Now that confused the hell out of me. If there was one thing I knew about my Jasper, it was that he loved the soothing motions of making food. In fact, once he had learned I was absolute trash at it, he’d offered lessons. Personally, I thought those were just a reason to see me more. Half of our sessions ended with more talking than creating, spending hours into the night discussing random food related topics. Was cereal a soup? No, and if you suggested this to Jasper, he’d go off about it, his adorable eyes rolling at the mere idea.

“What’s your favorite food?” I’d asked one day.

He gave that wicked grin that meant nothing but trouble. “You.” and he kissed me deeply.

My face flamed as I tried to remember what I was thinking about. Right! Jasper’s mom not knowing the most basic thing about her son! Maybe he hadn’t liked cooking before, and I made it special to him. I loved that trope—where something that was pretty normal before is now a beautiful thing, like the sound of an instrument. Of course, Jasper and I had that when we—

“Um, Grace?” It was Lacy, Jasper’s sister.

I didn’t know much about her other than ‘college student’ and ‘anxious’, but that didn’t help me face her now. Was she a protective sibling, hell-bent on not letting some random lady take her older brother? How could I show her that I really cared about him? I’d been prepared to face his parents, not sibling! Okay, ‘prepared’ was a stretch, given how badly I was probably screwing this up, but at least I’d known they were coming.

Actually, why was she here? She wasn’t invited, but to tell her that was extremely rude. Maybe she missed her brother. If I were still talking to any of my family members, I’d probably want to see them every now and then, too.

“Can I get a picture?”

Oh, that explains it.

I knew I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but asking for a picture during a casual dinner felt weird. Even more so when her brother had been publicly blasted just a few weeks ago. Didn’t she care about anonymity online? Then again, my popularity told me I wasn’t one to talk.

“Sure.” It was a one-time thing, anyway. No big deal.

“So, Grace,” Camila said, “I heard you’re a singer?”

“Yes, ma’am-er, Camila.” Smooth. “Pop music, mostly.”

“Does it pay well?”

Oh, she was one of those parents! The kind who wanted to be sure her son was financially stable if anything went wrong! That was a relief, and it made the ick inside fade away a bit.

“I make enough to provide a stable fund.” There. That should make her feel better about this.

“How much do you make?”

A bit of a personal take, and one I couldn’t answer without potentially worrying her. My money followed my success, in a sense, and it might fluctuate if my music didn’t sell as much in the future. This felt like one of those questions I probably shouldn’t answer for the time being. Like when that reporter—was it Ivy Bangle?---had pressed me about my struggles with Kilson Caine. All my answer would do was stir a pot I didn’t have the skills to maintain.

“I’d like to keep that private, if you don’t mind.” I told her.

“Do you have money in savings?”

Why does she—

“Camila,” Jasper’s father finally cut in, “don’t grill the poor girl. Give her some room to breathe.”

“Grilling? In this day and age?” Jasper joked. “Why bother with that when you can just use a stove?”

“Because burgers taste better off one.” He turned to me. “I’m Shawn, by the way. Thank you for having us.”

“Hey, what about me?” Jasper asked. “I’m the one slaving away in here!”

“And I slaved away at work for years to keep you fed!” he shot back. “About time you returned the favor!”

I felt like I was seeing a glimpse at another side of Jasper as he continued to bicker with his dad. I noticed his mother and sister didn’t join in, which meant this was probably a father-son thing. If this was what it was like to have a dad, I was a little sad to have missed it.

Soon after, we were all sitting down to eat. Jasper had made a gorgeous chicken dish with cheese inside the meat. My mouth was already watering for a taste, but I didn’t feel that comfortable doing that when no one else had moved. In fact, everyone was staring at me. Jasper I expected—the man couldn’t go five seconds without ‘admiring’ his ‘gorgeous girlfriend’---, but the others were a little intense. Shawn broke first, though—thank god—and grabbed some of the food.

“So,” Jasper tried. “What do you think?”

Lacy grumbled at him. “I think you’re dating a pop star and never told me.”

Well, this was awkward.

“Lacy,” Jasper said, “it’s not a big deal.”

“‘Not a big deal’?” Camila asked. “She probably makes more than me and your father combined and it’s not a big deal?!”

I wished I were invisible, like I could just vanish from the room until the conversation moved to literally anything else.

“Why does it matter what she makes?” Jasper asked, voice rising.

“Your father and I were about to take out another loan to pay for the house renovations,” she explained. “And this girl could probably pay it in full and still have money left over!”

Jasper and his mother were fighting because of me? Oh, god, why couldn’t the ground just swallow me up? Take me down below where Camila wouldn’t yell at her son about whatever renovations she was talking about.

“What?” I’d never heard him sound so shocked. “That’s got nothing to do with her!”

“Gracie, honey,” Oh, god, not the nickname again. Make it stop.

“Shawn and I have been wanting to renovate our place for ages and we’re so close! If we could just have a little bit of money, that would be amazing! We’d pay you back, of course.”

The whole table went silent. Was money all I was good for to them? If I weren’t rich, would they have still smiled at me so warmly when they walked in, using my nickname and shaking my hand? But Lacy and Shawn hadn’t done this, so maybe this was a family joke?

“Hey, how come mom gets money?” Lacy asked. “I’m the one working my ass off for college!”

Well, there goes that idea.

“No one is getting money!” Shawn yelled. “We are here as guests! I can’t believe you two would even suggest that!”

“Oh, come on, Shawn,” Camila said. “If Jasper’s going to abandon us for some spoiled superstar, we might as well get something out of it.”

Oh, my god.

“MOM!”

“CAMILA!”

But the damage was done, and it was all I could do to not cry. I was good at this part—I’d been doing it since I was little. I just had to blink a little more often, keep my eyes up, and wait for the water to go back in. I wasn’t okay, and I knew that. I’d had so much hope from this dinner. Stupidly, I had actually believed that I could get along with them, that I, too, could have a mom and a dad to be proud of. At least Jasper didn’t think any differently of me, but then I looked at the expression on his face and I wondered: