“Oh God, please don’t tell my agent we’re having this conversation.”
“Hey, seriously, this is no big deal.” I didn’t want her to feel bad. She’d done me a favor. I’d definitely gotten more out of our arrangement than she had. I was getting closer and closer to my dream of a franchise. But her timing sucked. “You think your agent will have a problem?”
Audrey didn’t have a reputation to save, unlike me. Her team had said yes to me as my star was on the rise and would provide her with extra column inches. Publicity had been a secondary factor as far as I was concerned.
“Man, neither of our agents are going to like this,” she said. “I thought we could split after the premiere of our film, that way the studio will be okay. A breakup just after release might give the movie a little more publicity anyway.”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
“Yeah, now you can go back to your man-whoring ways.”
“I think Brian would prefer it if I were just castrated.”
“Or married,” she said.
“Isn’t that the same thing?” My parents were the epitome of a happy couple, but they had such a special relationship, there wasn’t even any point thinking that I could have something like that. It wasn’t who I was. I was all about work and getting to the top.
“I hope not, as that’s why I’m calling. Peter proposed, and I don’t care if it’s bad for my career. I’ve loved the man since I was sixteen. I’m sick of pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“Congratulations,” I said, staring out over the ocean. “I’m really so happy for you. I know how much he means to you.” I’d met Peter several times before we signed our contract to reassure him I wasn’t actually interested in Audrey. He’d seemed like a great guy.
“You’ve been the best fake boyfriend. I’m sure you’ll find yourself another fake girlfriend in no time. Especially as rumor has it Anthony Scott wants you in his next feature.”
“You heard about that?” Jesus, it had only been a couple of hours since Brian had called me about the opportunity.
“You’re hot stuff, hot stuff. Everyone is talking about you in this town. You know how Hollywood is.”
“I guess. Nothing’s official yet, though.” Until contracts were signed, I wasn’t cracking open the champagne. “So you want me to tell Brian that I can’t stand you a moment longer and I want to break our contract?”
“You’d do that for me?”
“It’s no big deal. I’m used to taking heat from my team. And you shouldn’t be punished for being in love.” Hollywood was a fucking shark tank. And women seemed to get it worse than men. If an actress had done half of what I’d done, her career would have been over.
“That’s really sweet of you, but no. I need to put my big-girl panties on and face this myself. Peter deserves that much from me.”
“Well if you change your mind, just yell. You’re thinking we split in about three months, right?” I knew that as soon as she told her team and they spoke to mine, my publicist would be on me to find someone new. Audrey had been great. Low maintenance and chilled out. But I’d heard of some Hollywood girlfriends causing real problems. An actor I knew had gotten his contracted girlfriend pregnant because he’d been stupid enough to fuck her.
“Yeah, three months sounds about right. And it should give you plenty of time to line up someone else.”
I’d need to find someone quickly. I couldn’t be single for too long.
“I think that’s the way I’ll go. I can’t imagine I’d get anyone better than you though.” I pushed my feet against the ground and began to rock back and forth on the swing.
“Stop, you’re making me blush.” She laughed. “You never know, Matt, you might get someone who turns into something more than a publicity stunt.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think so, but thanks.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you at the start of the junkets.”
“Sure. Say hi to Peter for me.” I hung up and slung my phone onto the seat next to me. How long would it take until Sinclair started to blow up the resumes of wannabes and starlets on the rise? I’d have to go through secret meetings, then an endless number of dinners.
I sighed and stood. Time for a few crunches. That would take my mind off things. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and hit the porch deck. I’d do whatever it took.
I wanted the career I knew was possible.
I wanted to prove I wasn’t another Hollywood fuckup, and I wanted to make my dad proud.
Lana
The rainstorm had cleared, the mugginess had returned, so I’d thrown all the doors and windows of my cottage open to catch any breeze passing through Worthington. I’d decided to work on the earrings of the Bastet collection outside.
I hadn’t expected to be so distracted by my temporary next-door neighbor who was also out on his porch.
Exercising in public with your shirt off if you’re a guy with a six pack, not that I was counting, really should be outlawed. I was pretty sure he didn’t realize he had an audience, or he wouldn’t be grunting like an animal.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and tried to reset my brain. I should step inside, turn on the TV, but I kinda liked the outdoor show accompanied by the crash of waves on the beach.
I stared at my pad, trying to keep my eyes on my work. Maybe Ruby had been right and it was time to unpack my tools and set up my workshop. I could remember a time when I’d get lost in my latest project and hours would fly by without me noticing. But since college, I couldn’t bear to be alone with my thoughts for long. I just ended up focusing on why I wasn’t making the high-end exclusive pieces, why I wasn’t in New York. And that was the last thing I wanted to be thinking about.
“Hey,” a man called from my left.
Shit. I knew I should have gone inside when I had the chance. I glanced across to find the sweaty, hard-bodied man I’d been trying to ignore coming toward me, waving. As he got closer, he looked kinda familiar, and as he swept his hand through his damp hair, recognition dawned. It was the crazy idiot from the bandstand.
“I thought that was you,” he said.
I dropped my feet from the side table I’d rested them on and stood. I hadn’t noticed how hot he was when I’d been shouting at him. Since he was as dumb as sand, I guessed it was only fair that he was handsome. I walked to the halfway step on my porch so I didn’t seem rude. “I’m glad you managed to survive the storm without being electrocuted,” I said, shielding my eyes from the hazy sun.
“I was hoping we’d run into each other again so I could thank you. I’m a masochist apparently,” he replied, flashing a bright white smile.
He clearly thought I was the crazy one. “Sorry for yelling at you earlier.” I wasn’t that sorry, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
* * *
“I think I can forgive you.”