by Adele Buck
“You’ll have to do them, though.” One hand flew up, pointing at him.
“And I don’t mind them. At least, not as much. Like I said, my job, not yours.”
Freddie’s lips rolled into her mouth and she looked like she was about to cry. “But if you do them without me, the world will think I don’t matter to you. Or they’ll assume we broke up.”
Sympathy for her imminent tears warred with his frustration. “Fred, will you listen to yourself? You want to have it both ways. You want the world to know that we’re together but you don’t want to be seen with me.”
“That’s not what I said. I never said I didn’t want to be seen with you. I said I didn’t want my picture taken. That’s not even close to the same thing.”
James sighed. “If you’re out in public with me, it looks like our picture is going to get taken. So yeah. For us, it is the same thing.”
Freddie crossed her arms over her chest and swallowed pure misery. She felt like she knew exactly what was going on in her own mind, but when it came to actually communicating that to James, everything came out wrong.
I want you. I think I even love you. But why do I have to put up with this stuff in my life in order to be with you?
“I just want it to be simple again. I just want it to be us. To have the biggest issue in our lives be Susan Vernon being a world-class bitch to me.” She couldn’t believe she would rather go back to that time, that circumstance. But there it was. Everything had been so much simpler.
James lifted Miranda off his shoulders and settled her on the couch. Miffed, the cat hopped down and stalked to the bedroom, tail erect. James watched her go, his face expressionless, then turned back to Freddie. “I don’t know what to tell you. You’re asking for the impossible.”
Freddie bit her lip. “How is it so impossible? We had it once.”
His eyes closed and he took in a deep breath, letting it go slowly, as if marshaling patience. “Stop being dense. Things change. Situations change. Going back isn’t an option. I can’t suddenly get low-profile again, even if I wanted to.”
“So you’re good with everybody and their dog wanting to have a piece of you?”
“Freddie, why are you trying to have the same conversation over and over?” James scrubbed his face with his hands again. “Never mind. I had thought we were more on the same page with things. Maybe we need to cool off for a while.”
Freddie’s heart thudded and her head spun. “What? You’re giving up?”
“No. Not giving up. Giving space. This is too intense right now. You said it yourself.”
“But…” As much as Freddie had pushed, now she wanted to pull. What is wrong with me? Drowning in panic, she held out a hand as he moved to get his jacket. “Don’t—you don’t have to go. We can… figure something out.”
“Not tonight we can’t. Get through technical rehearsals. Open your show. That’s stressful enough without dealing with everything else. Take some time, figure out if what you want is compatible with what I can give you. We’ll talk again when we’ve had a chance to decompress.”
“But…” Freddie tried to marshal one more argument, find one other avenue to talk. But before she could think of anything to say, James brushed a light kiss against her cheek and walked out the door.
Chapter 14
“Come on, James—where’s your brain?” The second unit director pulled his headset off and ran his fingers through his hair.
Anywhere but here, apparently. James bit his lip and ducked his chin. “Sorry. I’ll get it this time.” The scene was a dead simple action sequence, a lead-in that showed his face. The next cut would be to his stunt double who actually had to fake-take the punch from the bad guy. This wasn’t difficult. In fact, it was laughably easy.
James stood tall and squared off against the guest actor playing the villain of the week. Grounded himself. It was just one line, after all.
“You really think you’ll get away with this?”
“Cut. Good, James. Thanks. That’s a wrap for you for today.”
James nodded and turned toward his trailer, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. It had been a week and a day since what he had started calling the “Red Carpet Disaster.”
He knew exactly where his brain was.
It was vacationing in the small town of “I Miss Freddie,” a picturesque village with a lot of distracting views and scrapbooks full of postcard memories of small-town Connecticut and touristy New York. Wrenching the door to his trailer open with more force than was necessary, he made himself not slam it. For what felt like the millionth time since he made himself walk away from Freddie’s apartment, he tried to think of a way to approach her to make things work between them. But if Freddie wasn’t going to budge on his job, there was no way.
His phone shrilled on the coffee table. He didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway. “James Martin.”
“James, hi, this is Clarice? From network publicity?”
“Oh, right.” Great. The beginning of all the mess. That interview with Hollywood So Fine. “What can I do for you?”
“I really hope you can help me out? I’ve got all sorts of requests for interviews with you. Turns out your fans have waged some online campaigns wondering why you haven’t gotten more media attention?”
“Okay…” The intellectual side of his brain knew this was good for his career. The remainder of his brain, still taking its holiday in “I Miss Freddie,” lifted a finger and ordered another margarita before it turned back to the view of the woman who would absolutely hate this conversation.
“Well, we were thinking? That we should prioritize the requests?”
Why does she have to make almost all her sentences into questions? James bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not sure I can help with that. I know nothing about the media.” I thought that was your job.
Clarice laughed. “Oh, we’re not looking for your input. We were just wondering? If maybe you had hired your own publicist? So we could strategize?”
“No.” His brain flipped a scrapbook page. Freddie’s mussed, flushed, post-sex face looked impishly back at him.
“Oh.” Clarice sounded nonplussed. “You might want to consider it?”
“I’ll call my agent. See what she thinks.” He had to get off this call. One more question mark at the end of a sentence that wasn’t a question was going to send him around the bend.
“Great. Meanwhile, we’ll see what we can do here? Wouldn’t want to wear you out?”
“Fine. Great. If you could weed them out that would be great. I’m not so crazy about doing media these days.” James’s stomach did a sick roll. He shouldn’t have said that. He should be doing anything he could to promote the show. That was the job.
“Oooh. We could give an exclusive, maybe…”
Wait, what? “That’s a possibility?”
“Oh, yeah. Given the way you’ve been blowing up, it might be a great strategy? I have to run it past my boss, though.”
“Yeah. Do that. I’ll talk to my agent. I know she’ll have ideas about publicists.” And how. Melissa’s contacts were legendary.
“Super! Okay. We’ll be in touch.”
Finally. Three whole sentences and not one question mark.
Michael’s applause reverberated in the empty theater. “Great work, folks. I have a few notes, but you guys are making me nervous. We’re supposed to have a bad dress rehearsal for a good opening night.”
The cast laughed, even though it had to be one of the oldest jokes in the book, and gathered downstage for notes.
Freddie wondered what James was doing. If he was doing anything with someone else. Hearing her name snapped her attention to the present moment.
“Thanks, Freddie. I know we’re all tired, but I need your head in the game here. Can you change the light cue on the lead-in to the dance break in ‘Alone at Last’ to one bar earlier? Susan’s not getting lit appropriately when she crosses to stage left.”
Dam
n. “Sure, Michael.” Flipping to the right page in her script, Freddie erased the note for the lighting cue and kept her head down after she made the notation for the change. She could feel Susan’s eyes boring into the top of her head.
Managing, with a concerted effort, to stay focused until the end of Michael’s notes, Freddie grabbed her script and jammed it into her backpack as soon as he released the cast. She was in no shape to deal with Susan if the actress decided to go nuclear. Zipping up her bag, she turned and grabbed her jacket off of the back of the chair she had been sitting in, ready to make a break for it.
“Trouble in paradise?” Susan’s low voice stabbed into her ears like an ice pick.
Inhaling deeply and turning back, she saw Susan was sitting on the edge of the stage, unbuckling her tap shoes. Her eyes didn’t have the usual glint she sported when she saw a chance to take somebody down.
Cautious, Freddie asked, “What do you mean?”
Susan dropped the shoes with a clatter to the stage beside her. The rest of the cast had gone, headed off to the dressing rooms to change out of their costumes. Michael had also left, probably to retreat to his office. Freddie was, she realized, alone with Susan Vernon for the first time in her life. The thought made her spine prickle.
“I saw the photographs from the premiere last week.” Susan grimaced and Freddie tensed. “James with everyone but you. Is he seeing Grace West now? They looked pretty cute on the red carpet.”
Freddie blinked, confused. “What do you mean? The Super Kids premiere?” And why is she so stalker-y about James? This is just weird.
Susan pouted slightly and Freddie recognized her purported sympathy for what it was. A hidden blade. Blood in the water. Her shoulders ached with tension. She should have pretended she didn’t hear Susan. Maybe then she would have escaped without having this conversation.
“Yes,” the actress said. “Saw that you weren’t on his arm.”
Freddie sucked her teeth. “Well, then you were looking in the wrong place. I was at that premiere.”
Susan looked baffled. “But there were no press photos of you.”
“There were probably no press photos of Alexander Fox’s wife, either. But she was there. She was talking to me during the photo call. Some of us don’t actually like having our pictures taken.”
Susan’s jaw tightened. “Right. Well. If my sympathy isn’t needed I guess I won’t offer it.”
Right. That’s what this is. Sympathy. Freddie didn’t believe for a minute that Susan had any sympathy to give anyone but herself. “Um. Okay.”
“So I guess I’ll see James at the cast party on opening night.”
Oof. Before Freddie could think of a response, Susan swung her legs up onto the stage, grabbed her shoes and walked off to the dressing rooms.
“Why the long face?” Alexander asked as James left his trailer. The older actor looked like he was ready to knock off for the day as well, dressed in street clothes and carrying a gym bag.
James grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, so yeah.”
“Just more publicity stuff. I’m about to be in the market for a publicist, of all things.”
Alexander nodded, rubbing his chin. “Probably past time for it, to be honest.”
“This…it’s all happening so fast.”
“How’s Freddie with it?”
James rubbed his gritty eyes. “Freddie pretty much freaked the night of the premiere.”
Alexander winced. “Ouch. Sorry to hear that. Ella was worried that might happen.”
“Your wife is very wise.”
“Don’t I know it. But she also pointed out that she met me when that sort of scene was already a part of my life. She knew what she was getting into. Freddie, on the other hand…”
James sighed, trying to ignore the pang that arrowed through his chest at the thought of Freddie. “Yeah. Neither of us was really prepared for it, but Freddie was even less prepared than I was.”
“So how does she feel now? Hiring a publicist will mean you’ll have a professional running interference—at least part of the time. Not much anybody can do about the street paparazzi and the fans with phones, but a competent publicist will at least weed out the good outlets from the time wasters, help prep you to handle any difficult questions, and let the press know what topics are off limits. Help you keep Freddie out of the public eye if that’s what she wants.”
James closed his eyes, rubbed them with his fingers. “Freddie and I are on a break. Or completely broken up. Not sure which just yet.”
Alexander’s hand landed with a thump on James’s shoulder. “Oh, man, I’m sorry.”
Dropping his hand away from his face, James shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I guess things just don’t work out sometimes.”
“You seriously that blasé about this?” Alexander’s eyebrows crimped together.
James shook his head. “To be honest, no. It sucks. But Freddie can’t deal with the publicity thing. Like, at all. And I can’t make it go away for her. And I can’t quit my job.”
“Maybe she’ll change her mind.”
“Not Freddie. Once she’s set on a thing, she’s set. The woman puts the ‘stub’ in stubborn.”
Alexander’s blue eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. “That makes no sense, you know that?”
Not much does make sense right now. “Well, I know Freddie. She’s not fickle.”
“I don’t know her well at all, having only met her once, but I can say she seemed pretty devoted to you. She was willing to do something she obviously didn’t want to because it was important to you. She chucked that away so easily?”
James’s face grew hot. “She wasn’t technically the one to chuck it. I guess I was.”
“Ah. Because she insisted you stop acting?”
“She didn’t do that. She just wanted the paps out of her life. I can’t give her that without quitting.”
Alexander’s brows rose. “So that’s it. You quit her.”
“I’m not sure what else I could have done. We kept circling around that one point. It seemed like we were just going to keep having the same argument over and over and never get anywhere. Relationship as Groundhog Day.”
Alexander folded his arms across his chest and lifted one eyebrow. “So, after one frustrating argument you bailed.”
“One frustrating argument that I couldn’t see my way out of.”
“Huh.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Alexander looked at James for what felt like a half hour. “You’re a persistent guy. You’ve got to be. You don’t get anywhere in this business without it. But if you’re not bringing that quality to bear in your relationship, I guess it must not be a priority.”
Ouch. Gut punch. “It’s not like I’ve heard from her since. Maybe she’s relieved.”
“You broke it off and expect her to fix it? That’s hardly fair.”
He’s right. James hated to admit it, but Alexander had a point. “Yeah, well. Like I said, we have a pretty fundamental obstacle here.”
Alexander cocked his head and shrugged. “Well, if that’s it, then that’s it then.”
Perversely, the older man’s statement made James want to prove him wrong.
Freddie dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment. She hadn’t been looking forward to the opening night cast party as it was. Now she actively dreaded it. James wouldn’t be there, Susan would draw the all-too-correct conclusion, and her bruised heart would end up skewered and broiled for good measure.
Unlocking her door, she was surprised to find Miranda waiting for her on the doormat instead of greeting her with a sleepy yawn from the sofa. The cat looked at her, then past her into the hallway. Seeing nobody there, she stood and walked back into the apartment.
“Great. You might miss him even more than I do, you beast. You’re supposed to be on my side here.”
Miranda walked over to her fo
od dish and pointedly sat beside it, lifting one paw to wash her face.
“Fine.” Freddie dumped her bag on the floor and went to the fridge to get the half-can of Fancy Feast left over from the morning. “You’re turning me into the crazy lady who talks to her cat, Randa. So here’s your dinner.” Putting the cat’s food in front of her and scooping kibble into a bowl, Freddie wondered what she had in the fridge. A quick look revealed not much. “Takeout again, I guess.” Opening the drawer with her delivery menus, her breath caught in her throat when she saw the one from Lin’s.
“Fuck. Even takeout makes me sad these days.” Her throat thick with misery, she shuffled the menu from Lin’s to the bottom of the pile and picked at random. “Pizza. Whatever.” Placing the order, she looked again in the fridge, as if it would magically contain something to eat.
Well, there was a half-bottle of white wine.
So be it.
Pouring herself a glass, she went into the living room and opened her laptop. What she really needed now was a British baking show or something similarly soothing. But her fingers typed out a search of their own volition. The red carpet photos from the premiere filled her screen. James’s image wasn’t as prominent as she had thought it would be, which made sense now that she thought about it. After all, it wasn’t his movie.
Scrolling through the images, her heart twisted. There he was. Without her. Smiling, looking so impossibly handsome Freddie had a hard time breathing for a few seconds.
Inexplicably, she now wished she had been standing next to him. She bit her lip and opened another tab.
In for a penny in for a pound. Or, come for the minor flesh wound, stay for the sucking chest wound.
Pulling up the James-obsessed tumblr site, she scrolled down past news pieces about his show and a couple of older photos that had been re-posted. A few copies of the same photos she had just looked at from the premiere. Then, there she was, smiling up at James on the subway. Misery squeezed her gut, but it wasn’t the same misery of seeing her image when she hadn’t been expecting it.