Beautiful Lie (Dirty Hollywood Book 3)

by Claire Raye

  The driver laughs, even as he stays illegally parked outside her building. I rush inside, nodding to her doorman as I race toward the elevator.

  Another guy is standing there waiting, his eyes on the numbers above the doors as they count down to the lobby. When the doors finally open, two old ladies walk out before me and the other guy both walk inside.

  He jams his finger on ten before turning to me and asking, “Which floor?”

  “Same,” I reply, smiling.

  The elevator moves silently up to Helena’s floor and when the doors open, me and the other guy both step out, turning and heading down the long corridor toward Helena’s apartment right at the end.

  As he stops in front of her door, he shoots me a sideways glance before asking, “10F?”

  “Uh huh,” I nod. “You too?”

  “Yep,” he replies, narrowing his brow as he raises his hand to knock.

  Inside my chest, my heart is suddenly going double time, tapping out a loud rhythm against my ribcage as I try to figure out who the hell this guy is and why he’d be showing up at Helena’s apartment at six o’clock in the evening. Try to ignore the answer that’s screaming at me inside my head.

  When the door opens though, revealing a half-naked Helena standing there, dressed in nothing but the sexy black lingerie I bought her from a gig I had in Paris last year, all of my questions are answered.

  “Fuck’s sake,” I mutter as I push past both of them, walking into her apartment to find my passport sitting on the side table right where I left it. Without even looking at her, I snatch it up, shoving it in the back pocket of my jeans before quickly glancing around to see what else I might still have here.

  When I turn around, Helena and this guy stand exactly as I left them. She’s looking at me with an expression that suggests she wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. He on the other hand is looking at me as though he knows exactly who I am and is glad I’ve walked into this fucked up mess.

  “You can pack up the rest of my things and leave them with the front desk,” I say, not bothering to look at her as I walk past. “I’ll send my sister over to get them tomorrow.”

  I grab the keys from my pocket, sliding her apartment key off my keyring and throwing it over my shoulder, where it hits the hardwood floor with a clang.

  “Paul, wait,” she says, reaching for me.

  I feel her hand as it curls around my arm, her grip stronger than I expect. Swallowing hard, I force myself to look back at her, my eyes meeting hers.

  “Miss me when I’m gone, huh?” I say, the words harsh in the silence of her apartment.

  “Paul, please,” she says, her fingers tightening.

  I laugh, but it’s without humor. “Forget it, Helena,” I say, glancing at this mystery guy who’s still standing in her doorway, as though he’s waiting to see how this all plays out.

  “She’s all yours,” I spit at him before pushing past both of them and walking outside to get my taxi to the airport.

  Chapter Three

  Sadie

  Relief washed over at me as I watched the lights of London fade into the distance until eventually I was up over the Atlantic and on my way back to a place I haven’t called home in over a decade.

  I thought the relief I felt boarding the plane and flying away from Noel was freeing, but when my plane lands in L.A. it’s like I’m finally on my own. He knows where I am and he can easily find me, but he won’t. His career and his name have been dragged through the mud and he hasn’t left our house in London since. Going out in public means the scrutiny of the press and the paparazzi, and he wouldn’t dare subject himself to being made to look bad.

  I, on the other hand, look like the picture of perfection to the public. A release went out about me going forward with the divorce and I’m now only labeled as “Noel Robinson’s estranged wife” in the tabloids. I’d rather be that than his actual wife.

  I married an abusive, manipulative sociopath and this is the first time in ten years that I don’t have that hanging over my head. Our relationship was doomed from the start and I’ve spent the better part of my life filled with guilt, rationalization, dependency, anger, sadness and constant motivation to leave, but no matter how hard I tried I still felt stuck.

  Something kept me there. Something tied me to Noel.

  He had worn me down so much that I was immune to his behavior and after hearing all those times that I would be nothing without him, it led to the perfect combination of self doubt and internal debate.

  It was an unconscious storm that began spinning long before I ever got up the courage to leave.

  I step off the plane and I’m hit with the stifling smog of Los Angeles as I walk through the jet bridge, but for a split second it feels more like home than London ever did. Despite growing up in New York, and my family still living there, my career and my life were made in Hollywood. And subsequently, Noel and I moved to London when he found himself on the receiving end of some bad publicity.

  Noel was married when we met. I was the other woman and the press ate that up. The public loved us together and saw us a match made in heaven. I was someone who could save his reputation. The love of a good woman corrects everything.

  But when there’s money and divorce involved things get ugly and they did. To escape the scrutiny, we left Los Angeles and found solace in the quiet confines of London, a city with stricter stalking laws that also apply to the paparazzi.

  When you’re young, naiveté wins out over common sense, and I looked at Noel’s ex as a bitter and jaded woman who was past her prime and he was a man in a loveless and unhappy marriage.

  The fucked up thing is I’m that woman now.

  I had no idea how right she was about him and looking back now I shame myself for not believing all the stories she sold to the tabloids about him. Every word she said was true, but it didn’t matter because Noel and I were a hit, making movies that drew in millions and everyone loves a celebrity couple.

  What we sold on the surface was slowly killing me, and recently it finally all crumbled. But that strategically placed house of cards falling was the best thing to ever happen to me.

  Because here I am, finding my path back to the success I once dreamed of having on my own. After this movie gets made my name will no longer be tied to Noel’s and what is said about me will only be about the success of my movies.

  Normally I wouldn’t be recognized the way an actor is since I spend most of my time behind the camera, but with all the drama surrounding Noel, I’m bombarded by paparazzi as soon as I enter the airport.

  What still shocks me after all this time is that these photographers will stop at nothing to get a picture of the latest celebrity under fire, and that includes buying a plane ticket just so they have access to a gate.

  “Sadie!” someone screams, shoving the woman walking in front of me to the side, and completely disregarding my personal space. The camera is inches from my face, a voice recorder in the man’s other hand as he shouts out a series of questions.

  “What happens now that you’ve left Noel? Are you moving back to L.A.? Did you hear his mistress has come forward?”

  It’s the last question that gives me a slight pause. It’s not like I didn’t know and she honestly isn’t the first one, but it still stings when I hear it out loud. It’s embarrassing and the paparazzi know that, so they say it to get a response from me, they say it to catch my reaction and use it to spin stories that people will grab while in the supermarket checkout line. Noel denies sleeping with other women, claiming the stories are just that, stories created by the press. But no matter how many times I hear it, it still catches me off guard. The crazy thing is these women’s stories disappear before they ever gain traction, leading me to dismiss them just as quickly.

  A crowd of people have now gathered around me, moving like a herd of cattle as I move. Cameras flashing and questions being thrown at me, all of them asking the same thing and continuing to drive the mistress thing h
ome.

  I don’t dignify their questions with a response because it doesn’t matter what I say, something will end up misconstrued and that’s the last thing I need. One misstep, one answered question and Noel’s lawyers will make this divorce even more difficult than it already is.

  Two hours later I walk into our house in the Hollywood Hills, its silence echoing back at me in greeting when I walk through the front door. It’s eerie and the house smells of emptiness, like it’s been left alone too long, like it hasn’t seen the sunlight in ages.

  Leaving my suitcases by the door, I walk straight to the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the Hollywood sign and drag open the curtains. The light streams in, and I feel myself close my eyes and smile. I’ve missed the sunshine, the warmth of its rays and when I open my eyes, I realize I’ve missed the quiet comfort of an empty house.

  I haven’t been alone since I was nineteen years old and while sometimes the idea scares me, it’s also exciting. Finally, a time in my life when I’m not worrying about if I’ll say something that will piss Noel off or if I’ll upset the balance and he’ll lose his shit. For once I won’t be in the background. I won’t be in his shadow. I’ll be able to reestablish connections that I lost in all this mess.

  As I look out the window, I find myself overcome with my newfound freedom, and I begin to look around the house that while I once shared it with Noel, it shows no signs that two people ever lived here. It’s like the homes a realtor shows you, the one that looks like it couldn’t have possibly ever been lived in. Not a picture is out of place, not a rug with a single part of it disturbed, not a fingerprint on anything or a hand towel in the bathroom used.

  I can’t handle it and I walk through every room, pulling blankets loose from the beds, tossing throw pillows and opening blinds. I can’t possibly live here for the next year living like Noel lives. I need the chaos now.

  I need to start over.

  Tomorrow we’ll begin the arduous task of marking the set and preparing for filming. It’s long and because the movie does have a quite a few stunts, we’ll need to prep everyone. As the writer of the movie I was able to request several actors and actresses I had in mind for the certain roles and the pre-production crew took my ideas and ran with them. Casting is easy when your movies are generally a success.

  I do worry about my reputation, always being attached to Noel and using his name to drive my career; branching out on my own could be a huge risk. Maybe I’m only as good as I am with Noel.

  But I won’t let all of this cloud my freedom, so I’m going to sit outside by my pool with a view that most would die for and drink a bottle of wine.

  The next morning I’m woken up by my phone ringing, my mind a cloudy haze as I come out of a deep sleep. The sky is still dark and I wonder what time it even is. It’s like a dream though, I can’t remember where I am, the chiming of the phone is melodic and it works its way into my memory. My eyes are heavy and I feel the spot next to me on the bed, but find it empty and the phone stops ringing.

  I stretch my arms above my head and force my eyes open, taking in the room and smiling when I finally realize yesterday wasn’t a dream. I’m back in L.A., back where my life is quieter and Noel is missing.

  But these feelings are short-lived when my phone rings out once again, because it can only be Noel calling this early in the morning. I knew I couldn’t escape him forever, but at least the distance will bide me some time. There’s not a chance he’s not going to show up here and begin his manipulation tactics once again.

  His career is failing and mine is about to flourish, and he needs to be a part of that.

  But as my screen lights up, the sound echoing in the expanse of the bedroom, the name is my mother. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve spoken to her and it’s not because I don’t miss my parents, but when you move away, time passes and distance is hard and lives are lived. It’s also hard to admit to them that my marriage is a failure and for all these years I’ve lied to them. Noel manipulated them as much as he manipulated me, and when the tabloids would tell stories of his outrageous behavior, I’d chalk it up to people trying to sell stories. I’m not sure they ever fully believed me, but what were they supposed to do? I was an adult, I was successful and I was no longer living a life they had any control over.

  I had no control over it either.

  I answer the phone, my voice still groggy from sleep as my greeting comes out quieter and more garbled than I expect.

  “Hi Mom.”

  “Oh my god, Sadie! Where are you?” she shouts, the shakiness in her voice giving away the panic I know she’s feeling.

  “I’m in Los Angeles. Why?” I ask, but my heart is racing at just the sound of her voice. I can hear my father shouting in the background and I want to ask a million questions, but no words leave my mouth. The sounds of her tears, the catching of her breath is all I hear down the line.

  “Oh Sadie,” she moans out, her sobs turning to ragged breaths. “Noel called your father this morning, about an hour ago. We…we…” she stutters, her words once again not coming out as they should and just hearing her say Noel’s name causes a fire to burn inside me. Hot anger returns, and I clench my teeth so hard my head begins to throb.

  “Mom, put Dad on.” This time whatever panic I felt has been replaced and my voice is cold and unwavering.

  “Sadie?” my father says, his voice is weak, like he’s testing my name to see if it’s really me.

  “Yes, Dad. What is going on?”

  “Noel called me this morning at six a.m. to tell me you left him. He said you weren’t fit to be on your own and he worried about your mental health. He said he thought you we’re going to…” He trails off, a hard swallow coming through the phone as he can’t finish his thought.

  I can’t immediately process what Noel’s words have done to my parents. The only thing in my mind is that this is a new low even for him and my rage for him strikes harder than anything. He’s not only trying to ruin my life and my career, he’s trying to ruin my parents’ lives too. He’s trying to get them to intervene, but I realize now is the time for the truth, that I can’t keep lying to them about what my life has been like for the last ten years.

  Getting a phone call like this and at the time Noel did it has to be a parent’s worst nightmare. I imagine the emotions they felt at wondering if their daughter were dead are not the kind that people can put into words. Every part of Noel’s phone call was calculated and meant to elicit a series of emotions my parents couldn’t even begin to process.

  Woken up early in the morning, they wouldn’t question him. They wouldn’t last long enough to wonder about anything but my safety.

  Manipulation.

  It’s now that I know I have to tell them everything. Every story I lied about, every word I told them was made up in the tabloids was the truth. When they nervously questioned me and I appeased them with lies, making them feel like their intuition was wrong, I now need to correct all of that.

  So I do just that. I tell them everything and by the time I finally make it to the set to start filming, I’m exhausted.

  And it’s only nine o’clock in the morning.

  Chapter Four

  Paul

  When the alarm goes off, I reach for my phone, silencing the loud noise that’s basically pointless given I’ve been awake most of the night. It wouldn’t matter if I hadn’t spent the night rehashing everything I discovered when I went back to Helena’s apartment yesterday. This place is so fucking noisy, I’m not sure I could get a good night’s sleep even without a million things going on inside my head.

  “Shit,” I groan, lifting the phone to see the dozen missed calls from Helena.

  I delete them all and block her number, not caring what she has to say to me, what excuse she can possibly come up with for what I walked in on yesterday.

  My eyes close as I’m once again hit with memories. The easy familiarity with which this guy found her apartment; the image of her standing there in
her underwear when she answered the door. The way he fucking looked at her when she opened it and the look on her face before she realized I was standing there too.

  The unspoken questions that had immediately popped inside my head: how many times had this happened in the past? And had I been too damn blind or just too damn stupid to see it?

  “Fuck’s sake,” I say, opening my eyes as I type out a quick message to my sister asking her to pick up my stuff from Helena’s apartment today so I can just end this whole thing for good. Say goodbye to three fucking years that clearly meant nothing to her.

  My phone vibrates with an incoming text that I know will be from my sister.

  Alyssa: what’s happened???

  Me: she was cheating on me. I’m done.

  My phone vibrates again, but this time it’s to indicate a phone call.

  “Hey Lyss,” I answer, propping myself up against the pillows.

  “What the hell happened?” Alyssa asks, not bothering with the hello. “She cheated? You’re sure?”

  I exhale, closing my eyes as I’m once again reminded of last night. “I’m sure,” I say. “I walked in and found them together. I hadn’t even left the country and he was already over there.”

  “Ugh, that fucking cunt,” Alyssa says, her voiced laced with venom. She never particularly warmed to Helena and this will only serve to reinforce her already low opinion of her.

  I let out a long breath. “Yeah, it’s kind of a dick punch after three years together,” I reply. “Anyway, she should be leaving my stuff at her reception. Can you pick it up for me please?”

  “Yes,” Alyssa answers. “Of course I can. I might go and give that bitch a piece of my mind too.”

  I can’t help but smile, knowing that’s exactly what my baby sister is going to do. Even though I’m the eldest, she somehow seems to think it’s her job in life to take care of me. Or maybe it’s because she just hates Helena that much, she can’t resist the opportunity to tell her exactly what she thinks about her.