As Jesse takes my hand and we start strolling from the World War II memorial toward the ferry docks, it’s hard to ignore the fact that there’s an entourage of nearly thirty people scurrying behind us, as well as a handful of bodyguards to keep the curious crowds away. It isn’t exactly your normal, everyday romantic walk in the park when you’re being followed by your mother; your faux boyfriend’s parents; your personal publicists and the publicist for your faux boyfriend’s record label; cameramen for Extra, Entertainment Tonight, CNN’s Showbiz Tonight and ABC; photogs for Us Weekly, the New York Times, the Boston Globe, and the Associated Press; the authors of HOT: The Unauthorized Biography of Jesse Bishop and POP! The Unauthorized Biography of Star Beck and a dozen scribbling reporters.

“So how’s everything?” Jesse asks under his breath with his signature charmingly lopsided grin as we casually stroll. “Are you still locked in a battle with the Queen of All Evil?”

“Toss the hair, toss the hair!” Mariska hisses from somewhere behind us. I sigh and obey. Every flashbulb goes off at once.

“Is that your latest nickname for my mother?” I whisper.

“Your mother?” Jesse feigns innocence. “Why, that would make you the spawn of the devil!”

“Jesse!” I exclaim, punching him in the arm. “She’s not that bad.” I can talk badly about my mom. But it’s not like I want Jesse to. “I mean, she took me shopping the other day in Boston, you know,” I say, realizing how defensive I sound. “We spent the whole afternoon together.”

There. That’s nice mother-daughter behavior, right?

“Wow,” Jesse says. He looks sidelong at me and rolls his eyes. “How many necklaces did she buy? And how many reporters were along to see you ‘bonding’?”

Okay, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We pass a gaggle of screaming little girls wearing Jesse Bishop tees. He waves halfheartedly. I take a deep breath and paste on a smile. “So. How are you doing?” I ask. Jesse’s favorite subject is, and always has been, Jesse.

His face brightens. “Same,” Jesse says. He sighs dramatically, shakes his head and looks down at me. “Busy. Crazy. Every day a new city. Every city, different girls.”

This is so typical of him.

“Aren’t they jealous of your girlfriend, Star Beck?” I tease. I know it should bother me that he’s out there hooking up with girls while the whole world thinks he’s dating me. After all, my faux boyfriend is faux cheating on me. But I just think it’s sort of funny.

“I think they like it,” he says, grinning wickedly. “They’re thrilled they’re getting their hands on Star Beck’s man. Sick, huh?”

“You’re terrible,” I mutter.