by L. L Hunter
“You’ll be meeting Mr Dean for dinner in about an hour. I’m going to take you to your accommodation so you can get ready.”
“Oh, good. So where am I supposed to meet him? Is he going to pick me up or am I supposed to go somewhere? I don’t know L.A., and I’m bad with directions. So, I…”
Stephen smiled, apparently laughing at my obvious nervousness. I had to learn not to talk when I was nervous.
“Don’t you worry about that, Miss Vanderbilt. Everything is taken care of.”
He led me out of the airport and into the warm L.A. night. Awaiting us by the kerb was a black town car with dark tinted windows. Stephen lifted my bags into the boot and walked around to open the back door for me.
“Thank you.” I slid inside and settled into the soft leather seat.
25
Stephen weaved in and out of traffic on the freeway like he’d done this a million times. I heard drivers honk as he sped around them. I turned my attention to the scenery out the window.
In the distance, I could see palm trees and skyscrapers, and as we drove down the famous Sunset Strip, I spotted the Hollywood sign. I wondered where I would be staying. Jack’s people had sent me nothing, and I had heard no word from Jack since we saw each other last. I pulled out my phone and checked his social media pages. His last post was yesterday. It was a photo of a script laying on a daybed beside a pool and a green smoothie.
“Back to work #actorlife” it read. I slumped in my seat a little, feeling a bit deflated. He’d told me nothing of his upcoming work. Then I shrugged and turned back to the scenery outside.
We were now climbing into the famous Hollywood Hills. I had done a bit of research into L.A. on the plane and in the weeks leading up to my flight. I wanted to know all the things locals loved about the City of Angels. Upon reading the multiple articles on L.A.’s hidden gems and scrolling through hundreds of photos, I’d come to the conclusion that L.A. was all about green smoothies, flawless tans, thin- but healthy- looking bodies and active wear. It sounded like a slightly rougher version of Bondi.
There was also the exclusive nightclubs and bars that celebrities just had to be seen at. I wondered if the restaurant where Jack and I were having dinner was one of those places. I knew I had to document my time here as well as I could. I would take my Instagram snaps and tag specific venues, but as for writing about it? I was stuck. My publishers wanted an intimate look at my life as the girlfriend of a Hollywood heartthrob, but some things I wanted to keep private. How much detail did they want? This was all new to me. It had all happened so fast. I had no idea what to do. I felt like a bit of a fraud. I knew I needed advice on how to be the girlfriend of a famous actor.
I suddenly realised the car had stopped. Stephen had pulled up underneath a modern looking house on stilts. The sun was shining on the front windows, which covered the front of the property. The house was high, so it most probably had ocean views. It didn’t look like a hotel.
“Um… is this where I’m staying?” I got out of the car and pushed my sunnies to the top of my head, taking in the sight. I heard a lawnmower running somewhere nearby, and to the right, I spotted an umbrella. Was that a pool out back?
“Yes. This is it. Mr Dean hired you an Airbnb house for the week. He thought you might like something more… homey, were his exact words. He’s organised a little surprise, which should be here shortly. For now, get settled in, and I’ll be back shortly to fetch you for dinner.”
I smiled and breathed in the L.A. air, which at present smelt like freshly mowed lawn and car exhaust. But it was L.A. It was different to Sydney. I couldn’t believe it. I was in L.A.!
Stephen helped me with my bags taking them inside for me, and as soon as he was gone, I immediately ran upstairs to the top floor to see the view.
The first room I came to was a spacious bedroom with a balcony. I ran toward it and unlocked the sliding glass doors. It was almost seven thirty in the evening here, so the sun was beginning to set over the ocean. I heard traffic noise and music in the distance, and a helicopter was hovering over a street downtown. But it didn’t take away from the feeling. I shut the doors and walked back inside. As I turned into the hall to explore the rest of the rooms on the upper floor, the doorbell rang. Shit! That couldn’t be Stephen back already, could it? I wasn’t even ready!
I bolted for my suitcase, which I had left by the front door, and lugged it upstairs to the nearest bedroom. The doorbell rang again, and I realised there was someone actually at the door. I took the stairs two at a time and sprinted to the door. I threw it open, and that’s when I got a face full of clothing.
“Um…” I managed to say as a woman carrying a bag with make-up supplies sticking out of it pushed me out of the way. I saw hair straighteners and brushes. The man who had given me a face full of clothing was currently spinning around in my foyer.
“Can I help you?” I asked, shutting the door.
“There she is! The woman in the photograph! I’ve been dying to meet the woman in that infamous picture.” The man with the clothes left his rack by the couch and rushed at me. I was afraid of what he was going to do. He kissed me on each cheek, and holding me by the shoulders, he took a step back to take me in. He looked me up and down.
“Hmm, yes. I can work with that. I think.” He ran back to the rack of clothes he had wheeled in and began flicking through them. Meanwhile, the woman with the bulging make-up bag was currently laying said make-up out on the kitchen counter. Who were these people? Were they in the right place? I decided to introduce myself to the make-up lady since who I assumed was a fashion stylist hadn’t made any effort to introduce himself.
“Hi, I’m Chloe. Did Jack Dean send you?”
The woman looked up from setting up her supplies and walked around the bench. She offered me her hand and gave me a small smile. She had blonde hair with highlights and her hair in a low messy bun and wore a blazer over a Gucci t-shirt and designer jeans and sneakers.
“Hi. Yes. I’m Emma. I’m Jack’s make-up artist and hair stylist. I’ll be looking after you for the next week. Come sit, and we’ll get started.” She had flicked on the downlights in the kitchen. One highlighted a white stool in front of the counter. I hesitantly climbed onto the seat and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, my make-up and hair were done. I studied my reflection in the pop-up Hollywood mirror Emma had set up on the counter. I had dark, smoky eyes, a flawless complexion, and dark red lips. My blonde hair was out and gently curled around my shoulders.
“Wow. I look…”
“Hot,” supplied Emma. And I agreed. I did look hot. I had never had someone do my hair and make-up before. “Now, for wardrobe. Go see Aflie and pick an outfit for tonight. We’ll be back on the thirty-first to get you ready for the New Year’s Eve party.”
I liked Emma. “Thank you. This is all so new to me. I mean, I’ve done premieres and VIP events before. But I’ve always done my own make-up and hair”—I peered over at Alfie, the fashion stylist—“and I’ve never worn designer gowns before.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. Take it all in, enjoy your time here, and leave the stressing to Alfie and me.” She winked before taking my hand and pulling me off the stool. She then steered me toward Alfie.
“Thanks, Emma.” I walked over to Alfie, who was waiting impatiently for me. “Hi, Alfie. I’m Chloe. What have you got for me?”
26
The restaurant I was meeting Jack was just off Sunset Strip. Stephen picked me up soon after I was dressed and told me Jack would meet me there.
The restaurant was an up-market rustic yet modern Mexican tapas place. I was taken to a booth in a quiet corner to wait for Jack. I ordered a mojito. I wanted to drown my nerves in alcohol, but I also didn’t want to be too tipsy when I finally saw him again. So, I nibbled on the tortilla strips the server had offered me and sipped my drink slowly.
Around ten minutes after I arrived, he came. And I knew the moment he did because it was as if the world stopped
spinning and the noise in the room, the chatter, and the low thumping bass, all ceased to exist. I stood, and he smiled as he took me in.
“Wow, Chloe. You look… amazing.” He came up to me, kissed my cheek, and looked into my eyes. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
He held me by my forearms, then let go so he could signal one of the wait staff. When they came, he ordered a bottle of champagne for the table and some guacamole.
“Come, sit. Tell me about your flight and your week so far.”
We sat and talked. I finished my mojito, and Jack poured us some champagne.
“My week has just been the same old, same old, dealing with the aftermath of the photograph and the exposure. Meeting with publishers and my book launch.”
“Oh, yeah. The book is out. I read a little bit on the plane. I loved it. Congratulations. Sorry I couldn’t be there.” We clinked glasses and sipped.
“That’s okay. You had to come back here and read your new script for your new role.”
I did it. I dropped out the bait, hoping he’d take it. He did. His glass paused before it reached his lips.
“Sorry about that. But I couldn’t really tell anyone until about two days ago. I just signed on for a new show on Freeform that’s pitted to be the next big teen drama.”
“Oh, my God. So you got a regular part? That’s amazing. Congrats!” I held out my glass toward him, and we clinked. But he didn’t look happy. I set down my drink and folded my arms in front of me.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. So is your accommodation to your liking?”
“Yes! It’s amazing. Thank you for that. And for sending your stylists over. I had no idea what I was going to do about that situation.”
He smiled. “I figured. I love the dress you’re wearing, by the way. You really do look beautiful.”
I was a little concerned about him. Something was bothering him.
“Are you sure you’re okay? It seems like something’s on your mind.”
“Sorry. It’s just been a long day. I’ve had nothing but press and meetings all day for the globes and the movie. I need to relax, and I’m not doing a very good job of it. Sorry. From now on, no more work.” He poured more champagne in both our glasses and signalled for the waiter again. “From now on, it’s just you and me.”
I sipped my champagne while looking into his dark eyes and wondered where this night would take us.
The night went like this: Jack ordered wine, we ate many tacos and nachos, then we walked out of the restaurant together, much to the excitement of our fellow diners. We heard their whispers as we passed by.
“Isn’t that…”
“Yeah, it’s the woman who was photographed with Jack Dean.”
“So, it’s true.”
I would never get used to this.
27
I stood on the kerb in the dark and watched the traffic. The lights of the city and the endless sound of car horns and emergency vehicles were as familiar to me as the squawk of seagulls fighting over a chip. I loved the city as much as I loved the beach. I could definitely get used to this. A midnight blue Audi sports car pulled up alongside me, and I studied it. The door opened a moment later, and Jack got out.
“You ready to get out of here?” he asked as he walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger side door.
I grinned. “Most definitely.” I slipped inside, and Jack closed the door and ran back to his side. When he pulled away from the kerb, the growl of the turbo engine lulled me into the soft seat. “Nice ride,” I said, turning to look at him.
“Thanks. When I first moved here and got my big break, I wasn’t really into the lifestyle that went with being an actor. When I got my first cheque, I had no idea what to do with the money. So I talked to my dad, and he told me to buy a car. At the time, I was driving this old rusty red Datsun that always had issues. So one day after my car broke down in the middle of the highway, I decided it was time. I watched my little red car get taken to the wreckers, then walked up the street to the nearest luxury car dealership. My dad met me there, and I ended up buying two cars instead of one.”
“Cause, you know, first world problems,” I joked.
“Totally.” He chuckled.
“So, why two cars?”
“One for my dad and one for me. My dad fell in love with this Aston Martin. But all I wanted was a reliable car that wouldn’t fall apart. So, I bought this,” he said, patting the steering wheel, “as well as the Aston Martin for dad.”
“Aww. That’s so sweet. It sounds like you and your dad are pretty close.”
“Yeah, we are. They live a few houses down from me, my parents. We’re very close.”
“That’s sweet.”
We began driving out of the city a little and up toward Mulholland drive, a stretch of winding road where many of L.A.’s most prominent homes were located.
“I hope you don’t mind coming back to my place. Sorry. I should have asked. I don’t want you thinking I’m kidnapping you, or something.” He smirked, showing his ridiculously sexy dimples. He was so hot. I couldn’t wait to kiss him again.
“That’s fine. I don’t mind if you kidnap me.” Did I really just say that out loud?
Jack’s home was situated halfway up the hill behind large white gates. When the gates opened, and I got my first glimpse at Jack’s house, I was at a loss for words. I could actually feel my jaw falling open. In a minute, it would touch the seat, and Jack will be wiping up drool for days. I snapped my mouth shut so there was no chance of embarrassing myself.
“This is your house?” I finally managed.
“I only rent it for now. Do you like it?”
“It looks like a castle. It’s gorgeous.”
The driveway wound up toward the front doors and around behind the house, to where I’m guessing a garage was located. There were turrets on each side of the building and even a small mote. Jack drove around behind the house, and I was right. An open garage door awaited us. We drove in and were plunged into darkness. Jack drove into a spot and waited for a moment. I was about to ask what he was waiting for, but I knew a minute later. Lights came on to reveal a garage almost as big as a football field.
“Whoa.”
And the garage wasn’t empty. As well as the silver Aston Martin and the blue Audi, there was a black Jeep with dark tinted windows and a baby blue Vespa.
“You didn’t say you owned any other cars,” I stated, turning to him.
He only gave me those dimples and a cheeky, mysterious smile with an added wink and hopped out of the car. That mysterious bastard! He was already driving me crazy. I got out of the car and walked around to join Jack by the elevator. He held out his hand to me.
“Shall we?”
I slipped my hand in his.
28
It felt like déjà vu, but I didn’t mind. I would do anything with Jack a million times and never get sick of him.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, I was in his arms. His lips were on mine, and we were kissing. I entwined my fingers behind his neck and played with his hair. He walked me backward until I was pinned between him and the steel wall. Our hips were touching. But it wasn’t close enough. I needed him closer. I needed more of him.
The elevator opened, and I was about to walk out when Jack grabbed my hips and pulled me back to him. My butt was against his crouch, and I could feel a notable bulge underneath his jeans. Oh, boy. I spun around to face him and kissed him again. But then he pulled back and looked down at me. Why was he stopping?
“Do you want a drink? Some water or—”
I cut him off by pressing my lips against his once more.
“Stop talking and kiss me.”
He smirked, showing me those goddamn dimples again, and that’s when I lost it. I leapt into his arms. He got the message and walked us down the hall toward a bedroom.
He threw me on the bed and kneeled on the end so he could take of
f his shirt. He wore a blue button-down shirt. He had begun to unbutton it from the top, and then gave up and just pulled it over his head. I got another glimpse of his muscled chest. I was glad I was more sober than the last time so I could take it all in. I rose up on my elbows and studied him. He saw me watching and crawled forward to hover over me. I thought he was about to kiss me, but instead, he placed his hands on my upper thighs and slid them up until they hit my sensitive area. I shivered and arched my back a little. I could hardly stand it.
His hands pushed my dark blue dress, the colour of his car and his shirt—completely unintentional, by the way—up over my hips, exposing my lacy black knickers. Yes, I had gone and bought my own pair of dental floss undies. Don’t judge me. When you get intimate with a guy, it changes you. Younger me would totally have judged me now. Hell, me two weeks would totally have judged me now.
My dress didn’t have a zipper, only an elasticised belt area, so getting the dress off was difficult.
“Where’s the zipper on this thing?”
“It doesn’t have one. I didn’t choose this dress with this in mind.”
That was my defence, and I was sticking to it. I totally did choose this dress with the intention of having sex with Jack in mind. The colour reminded me of Jack. Why didn’t I realise that a dress with a zipper would be better for a guy to take off?
I chose this dress just so you can take it off, fantasy me thought. Yes, I often had daydreams where I pretended to make out with Jack and say cheesy things like that. Who didn’t? I so wanted to use that line in real life. But that would be embarrassing.
Jack finally managed to get my dress off. He slipped it off over my head and pulled me up to him. He wrapped his arms around me, and we flopped back on the bed together.
A little while later, I woke up to go to the bathroom. As I slipped out from under Jack’s arm, I prayed he wouldn’t stir. He didn’t, thankfully. I went to the toilet, and then because I was feeling suddenly wide-awake, I decided to check out the view. Jack’s bedroom was in one of the castle turrets. I climbed the winding metal stairs to the top and stepped out into the midnight air. There was a small balcony at the top, and the view from it was breathtaking. The ocean reflected the moon, basking everything in an ethereal white glow. In the distance, I heard a police car siren, and somewhere towards Venice was a helicopter hovering over the beach. From up here, you could see the stars more clearly than down in the valley or the city. It was peaceful. I breathed in and exhaled.