Fool for Love

by Mel Curtis

  It is what it is, his father used to say.

  Fat lot of advice that was. Where was the silver lining?

  Vivian studied the dinner menu, glancing furtively about the room. “I like this place. It’s out of the way. I doubt we’ll see anyone we know.”

  “Wanna bet,” Blue murmured, flagging down a tuxedoed waiter. “Vodka on the rocks. Double.”

  “A glass of Zinfandel.” And then Vivian’s gaze locked over the top of her menu.

  Blue started to turn to see who had captured her attention, bumping Mr. Jiggle’s carrier with his foot.

  “Don’t.” Vivian grabbed Blue’s hand with her cold one before he could turn completely.

  “What is it?” Had the Avengers decorated something with their trademark thongs? The hair on the back of his neck stretched toward the ceiling.

  “It’s…Jack. My husband.”

  “Holy crap. Does he know we’re here? I don’t want to be seen having dinner with you. He’ll think we’re sleeping together. Lots of people will think we’re sleeping together.” Like Kaya and Jenny. They’d posted a public warning to a woman. What if they had some kind of revenge planned for Vivian? How would he explain shaving cream and a pink thong being placed on Jack Gordon’s wife’s car?

  Vivian’s smile was bedroom-friendly, the opposite of her icy touch on his hand. “I want Jack to think we’re doing whatever he asked you to do with me.”

  “Whoa. Whatever he told you, I refused.”

  Her smile flattened.

  “That came out wrong. I mean, he wanted me to give you relationship counseling and then introduce you around.” Unfortunately, his being with her meant the Avengers knew who she was. He pushed back his chair. “You were right the other night. It’d be better for everyone if I just walked out.”

  “No. Please.” Vivian clenched Blue’s hand tighter. “I’ll pay you. Double whatever Jack is paying you.” She drew her hand back as the waiter delivered their drinks, waiting to continue until they were alone. “Jack is under the impression that you get me to that happy place, like you did the other night. Only Jack thinks you’re not very good at it.”

  “Holy Mother of God.” Blue glanced toward the ever vigilant Avengers and lowered his voice. “Don’t you dare say another word. Lyle Lincoln and the Avengers have ears everywhere.”

  “I know about your fan club. I saw it in the L.A. Happenings column this morning.” Vivian smiled at him indulgently. “That’s what makes this so perfect. My husband doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

  The unmasking of Blue as the Avenger’s playboy had kept his phone and the main Dooley Foundation lines ringing off the hook. In fact, Blue had silenced his phone upon entering the restaurant. Half the women who called wanted to reform him by receiving his personal coaching – very personal coaching. The other half wanted to chew him out for his insensitivity toward women. And the men? They wanted to know his secret. His appointment book was full, organized around Maddy’s scheduled shoots. If he only knew what he was going to say to his new clients.

  “Is Jack happy about you and I doing whatever it is I’m screwing up?” Blue took an unhealthy swig of vodka.

  Vivian blushed. “It…um…turns Jack on…to think I’m left unsatisfied.”

  It didn’t matter that it was untrue. The amount of bent truths and outright lies friends, family, and exes had told about him over the course of his lifetime had grown higher than Jack’s beanstalk. When Maddy’s work aired – if Maddy’s work aired – the truth would chop up the last of his reputation into tiny pieces that no one would respect. The truth being he had no idea how to be a relationship counselor and didn’t know the secret of his father’s Rules of Attraction. He could only bluff for so long.

  Blue downed his drink, then lifted his empty glass in an attempt to get the waiter’s attention. “I’ll have to move to New York.” Where no one knew him. “You do realize Jack wants to divorce you.” So much for tact.

  “He thinks he does.” She batted her eyelashes and rolled her shoulders in a way that suggested she wanted him to open negotiations to a bedroom encounter – totally at odds with the words coming out of her slick lips. “But Jack only wants to divorce me because I left him. And I only left him because he ignored me while he started that basketball team. I wounded his ego. In another month, he’ll be shredding those divorce documents.”

  “He’ll be shredding me.” Blue could feel his client’s jealous stare lasering a hole in his back.

  She tugged his hand closer, pressed a kiss on it. “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. I saw a video of my sister’s husband and Jack exchanging punches after a game. Your husband could have been a contender.”

  “I’ll guarantee your…safety.” Vivian suddenly seemed distracted. “If you’ll excuse me.” She stood, smoothing her black mini skirt before doing a leisurely cat-walk strut toward the restrooms that had every man in the room watching her.

  Every man except Jack, who was five steps ahead of her.

  When Vivian reached the corridor, Jack turned and grabbed her, kissing her desperately. They spun against the wall once, twice, and then again further down the hall and out of sight.

  Shit. If he left, Jack might be angry that he’d stood Vivian up. If he stayed, Jack might be angry that he was sitting here waiting for Jack to finish satisfying his wife. He made a mental note to send Vivian a very large bill.

  Kaya and Jenny laughed. Jenny made a bump and grind motion with her hips.

  He had no choice but to stay. Otherwise, when Vivian came out she’d be an easy target.

  He restored the sound on his phone. In a text, Cora denied telling Kaya where he was. If he believed her – which he almost did – he was either being followed, or he had another leak. Gemma? Vivian? Maddy?

  What was he thinking giving Maddy that film?

  Shit-shit-shit.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead. The restaurant was like hell’s furnace. His life used to be simple. He protected people’s images, flying under the radar. He was part of a celebrity’s circle of trust. Now, he had no circle – no one to round the proverbial wagons to protect him.

  And then Maddy’s voice came to him, a lover’s whisper in his ear: I’m the only one with your best interests at heart.

  She wasn’t like the others. She wouldn’t betray him.

  Blue’s second drink arrived, iced and sweating. He nursed it this time, chasing bread with vodka.

  Ten minutes later when Vivian still didn’t show, Blue ordered an appetizer and a third vodka. This was unlike any bathroom stall quickie Blue had ever experienced or heard of. Public sex wasn’t supposed to take this long.

  Kaya and Jenny were drinking and laughing, getting louder. And then they approached his table.

  “She wasn’t impressed, Blue.” Jenny curled a lock of long blond hair so it trailed into her cleavage.

  “No big loss. She’s too classy for any under-the-table action.” Kaya fingered the white tablecloth. “Want some company?”

  “No, thanks. She’ll be back.”

  “And so will we,” Kaya promised. “That car of yours is hard to lose.”

  The pair left the restaurant.

  Blue drank Vivian’s wine.

  Thirty minutes later Blue realized he’d been dumped. He paid the bill and made for the Beverly Hills Hotel. And Maddy.

  Along the way, his phone started ringing, but it was Jack Gordon and there was no way Blue was taking that call.

  At the hotel, Blue turned over the keys to the valet along with a fifty dollar bill. “Make sure no geese get inside tonight, will you?” And then he stopped in the lobby to make sure Kaya wasn’t following him, and listened to Jack’s message.

  “Blue, are you fucking kidding me? I asked you to do me one little favor. One. Find Vivian a man. You aren’t man enough for her? Find her another man. I’m fucking dying here.”

  If he hadn’t seen Jack turn and reach for his wife with a look that sa
id he was about to combust if he didn’t have her, Blue would’ve felt like crap. As it was, Vivian was now on his Do Not Call list.

  Shouldering Mr. J’s carrier, Blue entered the bar and paused, looking for Maddy and checking out the night’s patrons. Musicians, he decided. Long hair, tattoos, singing along to the piped-in music. Heads started to turn his way. People started to talk. He headed for the bar this time.

  Maddy was in the corner of the room taking an order.

  Unlike Vivian, she’d never spread rumors about his manhood. Nor would she stalk him if things between them didn’t work out.

  Except…who was Maddy serving, but Lyle Lincoln, L.A.’s gossip master.

  Paranoia and too much alcohol yanked his nerves like a cramped, overworked muscle.

  “Two side cars, a house Chardonnay and a dirty martini.” She stood next to Blue as she placed her order. “You shouldn’t be here.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  Blue preferred to watch her hair swing free across her cheek or over his chest. “Why? Because I’ve seen you talking with Lyle? And here I thought my sister was the leak.”

  “I told you he’d come.” The bartender loaded drinks on a tray near Maddy.

  Blue ignored him. “Is Lyle asking about me?”

  “No. He asked if we had a decent Chardonnay.” She leaned in and smelled his breath. “You’ve been drinking. That’s not like you.” She touched his shoulder, platonically, when what he wanted was a touch trembling with heat.

  He didn’t believe the gossip columnist wasn’t asking about him. Lyle Lincoln. Holy hell. How could he be so naïve? He knew better than to trust anyone with a secret in L.A. He’d given her Dave’s footage of him in tights. And yet, this was straight-shooting Maddy. He bit back his fears. “How do you know what I’m like?”

  She propped one hand on her hip.

  Oh, yeah. She knew more than a little about what he was like.

  Inside, he was having a wrestling match with betrayal. He was too used to being pinned to trust completely. Outside, he managed a repentant smile. “Would it help if I apologized and said I had a shit day?”

  “As your producer, yes.” She gave him a look that was all business. “Paul, call him a cab.”

  “Paul, don’t call me a cab. In fact, I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks.” He shrugged when she raised an eyebrow. “Kaya and Jenny showed up at my business dinner.”

  “The pressure’s getting to you,” she said, rubbing his shoulder this time. “You need to go home and go to bed. Everything will be better tomorrow, I promise.”

  “My dad used to say shit like that,” he murmured as she walked away with a tray of drinks. His gaze tracked her as if she had a homing beacon and he was working radar.

  “You’re not a stalker, are you?” the bartender asked, setting a bourbon in front of him.

  “No. I’m the subject of her reality show. And I’m not drunk, either.” Blue took a healthy swig of bourbon.

  The bartender put out a small bowl of pistachios. “It’s bad ju-ju to sleep with someone you’re working with.”

  “We don’t get a paycheck from the same employer.” Blue selected a shell and cracked it.

  “Well, in that case, party on, dude. She’s one hot mama.”

  White blond hair swung into his vision. “Oh, my God. You’re Blue Rule.” The woman was tiny, with too perfect breasts and a too perfect nose. She’d been engineered by the finest plastic surgeon. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “Thanks.” Although Blue wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for.

  She laughed and that was too perfect, too. Calculated. No real emotion. “Can I buy you a drink? I bet you need one. I saw your billboard.” She slid onto a stool next to him and ordered a dirty martini.

  The bartender gave Blue a dirty look.

  “It’s promo for a new reality show.” Blue stuck to his story, watching Maddy in the mirror as she made her rounds.

  Blondie leaned into his space, brushing her shoulder against his. “I’m Kiki. I sing backup for the Blake Project. We’re in town for the jazz festival. Three days and three lonely, late nights.”

  It was a come-on. A cut to the chase, I’m available attack. She was exactly the kind of woman Blue had found attractive a few months ago – beautiful, adventurous, and looking for a good time. He felt no interest. Not even an extra pulse in his package.

  “Sorry, Kiki. I’m seeing someone.”

  Her smile never dimmed. “It doesn’t hurt to ask. I’ll be out on the patio after our show the next few nights if you change your mind.” She took her drink and slid off the bar stool.

  “Friend of yours?” Maddy asked, a serrated edge to her voice when she returned to pick up another tray of drinks.

  He ran a finger beneath the cuffed sleeve of her blouse. “Just asking for directions.”

  “To your house?”

  He leaned in close until their foreheads were touching and he could smell her flowery perfume. “I don’t give out directions to my house.”

  Maddy’s smile was strained. “I know. You blindfolded me with a tie when we left this morning.”

  Guilty as charged. “What did you pawn to get your camera out of hock?”

  “My…” She shook her head.

  He swallowed back his disappointment. “Don’t you trust me, Maddy?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a shame, because I trust you.”

  Her look of disbelief wasn’t meant to hurt, but Blue felt bruised nonetheless.

  Chapter 25

  When Maddy returned to the bar, Blue was gone.

  No deep voice made unjust accusations. No delicious eye candy was propped on the bar. Just soft lighting, soft music, and an empty bar stool.

  She couldn’t stop herself from looking for the blonde who’d propositioned him, but that woman was still sitting on the patio with her bandmates. No Blue.

  That was it. He was finished with Maddy, the bed-buddy. A heavy sensation of loss caught at her limbs, and tried to pull her down. She had to stay afloat and cling to the business aspect of their relationship. Desire could drown her.

  Paul handed her a folded napkin. He held a bottle of tequila in his other hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “The subject of your reality show said to give it to you,” Paul said.

  Maddy unfolded the napkin, revealing a set of car keys and an address. To Blue’s house. He trusted her with this when not even his siblings knew where he lived? This was bigger than the film of Blue in tights he’d entrusted her with earlier.

  Another night of fantastic sex beckoned. Her heart pounded with joy. Her temples pounded with warning. “Shoot.”

  A familiar feeling swept through her, warm as a summer’s breeze. She refused to name it. It made her tremble. It made her want to dance. It made her want to sit down and review all her bad relationships.

  A bad idea, Producer Maddy thought.

  Thank God, Hopeful Maddy thought.

  “He doesn’t love me,” she said to Paul. “Love is a myth.”

  Paul rolled his eyes. “Tell that to my wife.”

  And then she read the scribbled note at the bottom of the napkin: Tell me what you pawned and I’ll tell you my biggest fear.

  He trusted her. He trusted her with his secrets. Love was built on trust.

  Love? Crap. She needed a life preserver here.

  “I called him a cab. Am I pouring tequila or not?”

  “No.” Love? Maddy wanted to reject the feeling. She had to reject it. “I’m filming him.”

  “Girl, those sex tapes are bad news.”

  “Funny, Paul. This is a reality pilot I’m shooting.” This morning a blindfold. Tonight his address and car keys? What had changed between last night and tonight? Well, duh. The Avengers had unmasked him and then stalked him at dinner. But why would that matter?

  Because it’s love.

  Maddy sagged onto the bar. “No.”

  “Maddy, he turned down that blonde efficient
ly, as if she was soliciting for the Girl Scouts, not the night patrol. He said he was in a relationship. He earned my respect.” Paul set a shot glass on the counter. “Am I pouring? Your shift is almost over.”

  “And how long will my shift with him be? Another night? A week?” Her heart wasn’t built for short, intense love. Maddy looked out the French doors toward the blonde who’d propositioned Blue. “I’d have to constantly compete.” She didn’t have the fashion sense or the physical equipment to be a contender.

  It doesn’t matter. It’s love.

  Maddy pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to silence whatever part of her was talking foolishness.

  “Consider this your mini-vacation, much deserved.” Paul waved the tequila bottle again. “Am I pouring?”

  “No.” She had her career to think of.

  But how would the vulnerable Blue feel if she didn’t show up? His fragile ego would take a hit. She didn’t want him to show up for filming in the morning without his confident swagger. She scrunched her eyes shut. What a ridiculous excuse to sleep with him.

  Not if you love him.

  “Maddy, Blue Rule opportunities don’t knock on your door often. You can do anything short-term. It’s like a hall pass. It’s like going to Vegas. It’s like – ”

  “I get it, Paul.” She couldn’t fight it any longer. Love swirled in her veins and sang in her ears. “Give me a shot.” Because rides like this were short, high, and inevitably came crashing down.

  “Atta, girl. Now, let’s close out some of these tabs so you can get out to Mulholland Drive.”

  “You read my note?”

  Paul grinned. “Yeah, but I have a bad memory.”

  Blue drank beer out on his back patio. The night air was hot and sultry. The moon peeked through the mixture of high fog and smog rolling in.

  She wasn’t coming.

  It was nearly one o’clock. Maddy’s bar closed at midnight. He’d taken a risk, having only slept with her once. He’d bet that trust meant something to her.

  She wasn’t coming.