Pat ignored her. “If you and Richard were seen out together for a while, if the public believed you were a couple...”
“Let’s just get this straight, shall we?” Lainie looked from one face to the next. She could feel her cheeks burning red and wasn’t sure whether the embarrassment or the fury had top billing. If people thought they could make this kind of...of...shoddy suggestion, things had apparently not changed that much since the good old days when the word actress was synonymous with the word whore. “Are you seriously suggesting I conduct some sort of faux-mance with Richard Troy in the tabloids, for the sole purpose of getting a few more bums in seats?”
Go from genuinely dating Will Farmer to fake-shagging Richard Troy? It seemed like a lateral move.
“Considering that most of the people who would care are well aware I was recently seeing Will,” she pointed out crossly, “I hardly think that jumping into bed with another of my castmates is going to maintain this alleged ‘sweetheart’ image. I can imagine several more likely comments.”
“Well, they would still be more flattering than what’s already being hurled at Troy.” Bob grimaced. “I believe the old epithet ‘Byron’ has been substituted with a simple ‘Dickhead.’”
Lainie couldn’t help snorting again. She’d always suspected that Richard had coined the Byronic comparison himself. He played a little too closely to the stereotype.
“You’ve handled the Will situation like a pro,” Pat cut in, and she sounded warm with approval. Lainie half expected a proud pat on the head. “Public sympathies are entirely in your corner. He helped, of course, by immediately taking up with that inflated tart.”
“Yes, that was fortunate,” Lainie said dryly.
“People want to see you move on—and trade up.”
“Therefore, in a fun twist, I get naked with the most despised actor in London?”
“Nobody is asking you to sleep with him,” Bob said, annoyed, before Pat could reply. He made an impatient gesture. “God forbid. It might put him in a good mood for once. All that brooding method acting completely undone by a fatuous smile.” He tried a placatory smile himself. It was not endearing. “It’s not simply a matter of sales. Everyone’s professional reputation will take the hit of even a minor failure.” He raised both hands, palms up. “All we’re asking is that you salt the mine a bit. Attend a few parties together. Actually speak to one another. Perhaps really push the boat out and hold hands in public. Gossip stirs. Ticket sales rise. Everyone’s happy.”
“I’m not happy.”
“No, but you are employed, and presumably wish to remain so.”
“You can’t threaten my contract because I won’t agree to be pimped out for your profit margins. That’s completely unethical.”
Bob scowled. “I’ve already said that the sex aspect doesn’t come into it. Nobody is ‘pimping’ you out anywhere.”
“No,” she said sweetly. “But that will be the resounding implication when I farm out the story of my unfair dismissal to the media.”
After a moment, Bob said, “I feel almost proud. Our Elaine, all grown up and indulging in a spot of reciprocal blackmail. You were such a sweet little thing when you auditioned for us.”
“And she’ll remain so from the perspective of the public and their disposable income.” Pat looked at Lainie. “You know perfectly well how little it takes to generate a romance rumour. I could do half the work with a simple tip-off. All we’re asking is that you let Richard accompany you to a few select parties and participate in some of your charitable activities. For which I’ve meant to commend you.”
Lainie suspected she wasn’t being congratulated from a humanitarian angle. She choked. “Take Richard along on fund-raising events? I can just imagine it. Richard Troy making chitchat with little old ladies at the village. Standing outside Sainsbury’s with a donation box. Taking part in the 5k Fun Run.”
“He’ll do it,” Lynette spoke up, and Lainie shook her head, totally unconvinced.
“Will he?” she asked ironically. “Because you haven’t mentioned his cooperation in this little scheme, and it sounds about as likely as an ice cream van in hell to me.”
“He’ll do it,” Lynette repeated firmly.
“Well, I won’t.” Lainie cast Bob a scathing glance. “This was your idea, wasn’t it? A load of bollocks with an unsavoury hint of lechery. It has your handiwork all over it.”
“It’s a solid plan,” Bob said, unoffended. “The public loves a mismatch. The bad boy redeemed by the company ingénue.”
“I am not the company ingénue,” she snapped.
“Well, the role of femme fatale has been adequately filled by Chloe, poppet.” Bob managed a decent leer. “More than adequately, I should say.”
“Why don’t you rope her in, then?”
“Don’t think I didn’t consider it. But Chloe’s rep isn’t exactly spotless at the moment either. And she’s too old for him.”