Yacht Girl

by Alison Claire Grey

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

  “I’ve never lived with another man before,” she said. “Other than my dad.”

  She remembered promising her father she wouldn’t have male roommates, and a pang of guilt hit her for an instant.

  But Rooster wasn’t a roommate. He was the love of her life.

  And that was something else altogether.

  “So that’s a yes?” he asked her.

  “Of course, it’s a yes,” she laughed. “I never want to live with anyone else but you, Rooster McCoy.”

  He whooped, picking her up like she was his bride, and carried her back to the bedroom to continue what they’d been doing since they got home the afternoon before, the one thing that he always knew would keep her close, no matter what he showed her he was capable of.

  A few nights later Rooster surprised her with something else. She’d just arrived home after a long day of work.

  “Josh and Gwen want to have dinner,” he said as she walked inside the condo after working a long shift at the restaurant. “I was thinking tonight was good, unless you’re exhausted.”

  Dee was exhausted, truth be told. But ever since the gala, she’d sort of hoped they’d run into Josh again. She wondered if he’d been serious about representing her.

  “No, I can handle dinner,” she called to him from the foyer as she slipped her black heels off, sighing from relief as her aching feet hit the hardwood floors beneath her. “As long as I can wear flats. My feet are killing me.”

  “You can wear anything you want,” he said, greeting her with a kiss. “I think we’re going to Soho House.”

  “Sounds good. What time?”

  “Josh got a table for us at eight. Is that enough time to get ready?”

  “I can make it work.”

  Dee gently pinched his side teasingly as she walked past him to their bedroom.

  She loved saying their bedroom. It was such a big deal for her, like another level she’d conquered in her quest to be an adult and a perfect partner.

  Ever since the terrible afternoon in the LAX parking garage, Rooster was like a better version of his best self. He was affectionate and sweet, doting, and perfect. Usually she would tell someone to run away from a man who did what he had done, but it really did seem to be something that was completely out of character for him. He’d been scared, and men handled fear differently than women did.

  It sounded like a lie even to her, but it wasn’t. She really believed it.

  Soho House packed. It was Thursday night and it felt like the entire world had decided to be there. Dee spotted at least ten famous people as she and Rooster followed their hostess to their table, and at least half of them gave Rooster a wave or a nod. It was an exclusive club and restaurant, one Dee felt special to be invited to. The McCoys had been members since its opening, of course.

  Gwen was an attorney and their father’s favorite child, according to Rooster. She was the one McCoy kid who had never been in trouble or caused any sort of scandal.

  Rooster rarely spoke about his younger brother Ranger. They’d been close at one point, but once Rooster cleaned his life up, Ranger had started keeping his distance. He mostly traveled the world partying with other progeny of the world’s one percent of the one percent, living a life Rooster was no longer interested in being a part of.

  Gwen and Josh were already at the table, laughing about some inside joke between them as they sipped their cocktails and picked at various items on a charcuterie board they’d ordered for the table.

  “Well, hello there,” Gwen greeted them as they sat down across from her and Josh. “This is definitely a McCoy record. I have never met any girl my brother has dated more than once. Dee, I feel like we’re basically best friends at this point.”

  Dee grinned, glancing at Rooster. “I feel honored.”

  She felt his arm wrap around her shoulders protectively and she leaned into him, feeling at ease.

  It had taken her a couple of days, but she felt safe with him again.

  “How was New York?” Gwen asked, and Dee felt him stiffen.

  “It was fine,” he replied. “The usual crap.”

  “Dee, did you think about what I said?” Josh asked her as he leaned across the table to grab an olive. Gwen and Rooster had started a discussion about the board meeting Rooster had been to in New York and other McCoy business things that Dee didn’t understand anything about. “The other night on the yacht. I was surprised I haven’t heard from you.”

  Dee smiled. “I did. I wasn’t sure if you meant it or if you were just being very kind.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I never say anything I don’t mean,” Josh sat back now. “You’re green though, which I like. You don’t have a manager either, I’m assuming?”

  Dee shook her head. “Sad to say, no. I don’t have anyone. Well, except Rooster.”

  Josh stared at her for a long moment, thinking about something Dee could only guess at.

  “Have you taken any classes?” he asked. “You might want to start. Pilot season is coming up in a few months. You’ll need to be ready.”

  Dee couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Gwen and Rooster had finished their conversation and were looking at her now.

  “Yes, I’d actually been thinking about starting a workshop next month, I just need to save a little bit more.”

  Josh looked at Rooster. “Isn’t she darling? Listen to her. Saving up for a class.”

  “Dee,” Rooster turned to her. “You don’t need to save up for anything. I’ll take care of it. If you really want this, you need to focus on it completely.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” Dee shook her head.

  “I know you can’t. It’s why I’m offering,” Rooster leaned forward. “You’re the proudest person I know, it’s why I love you. You don’t have to work at the restaurant anymore. You’re with me. I’ll take care of everything. How would it look to have my girl struggling when I can give her so much? Let me do this. This is what you’ve wanted, right? Why you came here?”

  Dee couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  Part of her wanted to reject what Rooster was offering her. She really wanted to do this on her own, she never wanted him to think she was with him for any other reason other than that she loved him.

  And a small part of her, just a very small part, didn’t want to depend on him for so much. It felt like it could be dangerous, considering what she’d experienced recently.

  Besides, her father had always insisted that his daughters know how to take care of themselves, to never have to depend on anyone other than each other.

  At the same time, it was a massive opportunity. And even so, it didn’t mean she’d book anything. It was just a way of helping her prepare. She’d still have to audition. It would still be on her to make it, at the end of the day.

  “I don’t even know what to say!” Dee cried out, wrapping her arms around Rooster. “Of course. And I won’t let you down, I’ll give it everything I have. I promise.”

  Josh reached his hand across the table, a business card at the tip of his fingers.

  “This is the number to April Randolph,” he explained as Dee plucked the card from his hand. “Call her. Tomorrow. She’s going to be your manager. She’ll set you up. And then come by my office next week and we’ll sign some things.”

  “Josh has to make sure he gets his ten percent,” Rooster chuckled. “Don’t be fooled. He’s not that altruistic.”

  Dee ran her fingers across the raised gold font of the card.

  A manager. An agent. These were things real actresses had.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Dee replied, looking up at Josh, tears in her eyes. “They say LA is full of terrible, cut-throat people, but I haven’t found that to be true.”

  “Oh, honey,” Gwen leaned in toward Dee conspiratorially as their server brought over their drinks. Josh and Rooster were talking now, not paying attention to the women. Gwen spoke in a hushed tone.

&
nbsp; “This city is full of sharks. Just remember that no one is doing anything without expecting something. There’s always a price that is paid. One way or another.”

  Thirty-Three

  Everything after that night happened fast, just like it had since the night she’d met Rooster.

  She called April Randolph the next morning after talking to her boss at The Ivy to let her know she wouldn’t be coming in to work anymore. She’d wanted to give them at least two weeks’ notice, but Rooster had insisted it wasn’t necessary.

  “They have a thousand girls waiting to replace you,” he pointed out. “It’ll be fine.”

  April, on the other hand, had been expecting her call. She’d immediately started grilling Dee.

  “You’ll need new headshots,” April said. “I can bet the ones you have won’t work. Josh says you’re pretty clueless.”

  “Oh, sure,” Dee replied, not exactly certain how to react.

  “Do you have any experience at all?” she continued. Dee could hear the rustling of loose papers in the background. She imagined April at a large desk covered in resumes and headshots of the people begging to be her client.

  “I’ve done some extra work,” Dee said.

  “Oh okay, so no experience,” April confirmed, making Dee feel ridiculous. “You must be something special if Josh is sending you to me. You’re dating Alistair McCoy, right?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Okay, that makes sense,” April finally said. “Come to my office on Monday morning. Ten sharp.”

  Before Dee could confirm, April had already hung up.

  April Randolph’s office was in a sleek, modern building on Wilshire Boulevard. Rooster drove her there, which she was grateful for. She’d never been so nervous.

  “Beckett,” he told her in the car. “You need to remember something. April will be working for you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I know, but what if she decides she doesn’t want to work with me?” Dee replied as she looked at herself for the twentieth time in the visor mirror of Rooster’s G-Wagon. “She seemed pretty unimpressed with my lack of experience.”

  “Baby, it’s already done,” Rooster explained. “Josh set it up. She’s going to be the one that guides you. You’re not auditioning here. She’s just part of your team. Don’t let her scare you.”

  They parallel parked in front of the office. Dee looked up at the building, biting her bottom lip.

  “I would have none of this without you,” she said, turning to him. “I love you.”

  “Go,” Rooster said, leaning over to give her a quick kiss. “Become the girl you came here to become.”

  April Randolph was thirty-nine years old and had been part of the Hollywood scene since she’d graduated from Pepperdine in the late 80s.

  “I’ve managed the best of the best,” she stated, rattling off a list of names that Dee could hardly believe. “Some of them are still with me. I try to not have more than twenty-five clients on my roster. But Josh seems to think you’re something. Also, I think he wants to get in good with your boyfriend. I guess you’ll be lucky number twenty-six.”

  “Thank you,” Dee said, and April cut her off.

  “Don’t thank me. We haven’t done anything yet. Josh is a schmoozer. He’s going to tell you whatever you want to hear or more importantly whatever the McCoys want to hear. Agents are the most fair-weather jack asses in this town. They’re in it for them. I’m the person who will sell it to you straight. You want to be someone who stands on their own, apart from your connections. That’s my first piece of advice for you and for any girl who comes in here. Just because you happen to be with a powerful man doesn’t mean you don’t have to work for it. That can get you far, but it can’t be counted on.”

  Dee nodded. She appreciated the honesty.

  “You’re stunning, no doubt. And no work done? Amazing. That face is going to sell you big time. You’re trim, though you can always be thinner. We gotta keep that body tight. Starting now, eat less. If you’re having trouble with that, let me know. There are appetite suppressants. Certain drugs can make it easier. We have doctors that can say you have ADHD, and bam, stimulants save the day. Just let me know.”

  Dee had no idea what to say to that.

  “Your hair is dated,” April continued. “It’s too long, we’ll give it a good fresh style at a salon over in Beverly Hills. Do you have a trainer? You need to start a workout regimen. Again, the body, that’s what you always have to focus on. Now, you’re lucky— the face is great. I wouldn’t change a thing, not yet anyway. Now, once you hit mid to late 20s, we’ll start talking about Botox. Maybe some fillers. You’re still young, though again, younger would be better.”

  Dee was now starting to wish April would be less honest.

  “I’ve got you set up for classes starting Wednesday. We’ve gotta smooth out that accent of yours. You can always bring it back if you need it for a role, but for now we’ll put it in your back pocket. It’s not terrible, but it’s there. Which is a distraction. You’ll need method training. All my clients are method actors. It’s the only way. Stanislavski knew his stuff.”

  April walked over to her from behind her massive desk.

  “Your boyfriend needs to take you shopping,” she said, circling Dee now. “These clothes are like the hair— dated. They’re mall clothes, not the clothes of a movie star. I bet the nicest place you’ve ever shopped is Dillards, probably for your prom.”

  “I didn’t realize I was that out of style,” Dee muttered, annoyed because April was right.

  “Most of us are, honey,” April replied. “But most of us aren’t trying to become famous.”

  Dee saw her point.

  “Also, your name,” April continued. “Josh and I agree— it doesn’t work. Mostly because there’s another famous Beckett on the scene right now and you look enough alike that it might be confusing. We were thinking you’d be Delilah Goodacre. Goodacre exudes the sweetness that’s your brand. And we love the name Delilah, because it’s the opposite of that. Delilah was a temptress, after all. And that’s you. The sweet little southern temptress. We want people to want to sleep with you but feel guilty about it.”

  April continued listing Dee’s flaws along with solutions to fix them. Dee was drained by the end of it. How had Rooster fallen in love with someone who had so many things to fix?

  But if this is what it took, this is what it took. She needed to be grateful that this was happening for her. Six months ago, she’d been barely making rent and smelled like pesto every night when she came home to her apartment.

  Whatever April Randolph told her to do, she’d do it.

  Thirty-Four

  Dee did everything April and Josh told her to do.

  And it worked.

  She was assigned a trainer who met her at Equinox five days a week for two hours to keep her “tight” and in shape.

  Carbohydrates became the enemy. She lost fifteen pounds she never knew she needed to lose in just under two months. Dee had always been fit, but not like this. Somehow, she’d been sculpted into being both hard and soft, all at once. Muscled, but womanly.

  Within four months, Dee had completed her transformation into Delilah Goodacre.

  The name had been tricky at first, but April had a trick for that. Everybody who dealt with Dee in a professional capacity, from Josh to April to her trainer to her nutritionist, stylist, and her various acting coaches all called her Delilah, without fail. April told her that if she was walking down the street and two people called to her from opposite directions, she wanted the young starlet’s head to turn in the direction of the one who called out “Delilah,” not Dee.

  In fact, the only person who had called her Dee in months was her own sister, and only through infrequent phone calls.

  Delilah Goodacre had new headshots, a resume, and a publicist who managed to have her face in the gossip magazines every week, even before she’d gone to one audition. The
buzz was building.

  Although she’d been very against it, Dee started taking stimulant medication, prescribed to her by a doctor that worked for the McCoys.

  The medication made her cravings disappear. They also made her incredibly irritable. She couldn’t stand to even look at food. Dee ate enough to live and work out, but that was it.

  When she wasn’t working out, she was in acting class. Her acting coaches worked with her privately and she was berated constantly, reminded that unless she was great, she’d never make it, there were so many girls waiting to take her spot.

  One of the coaches, a Russian woman she despised, was fond of scolding her, in heavily accented English: “If this is the best you can do, you’ll be on the next bus back to Vees-con-seen!” At first, Dee tried arguing that she’d never even been to Wisconsin, but it was pointless, so she’d put on a brave face and save her tears for the drive home.

  She knew it was all to toughen her up in a business that took no prisoners, but it wore her down.

  She also didn’t see Rooster as much, which caused tension. She’d come home at night, sometimes after eight, and he’d be surly and moody— quick to pick a fight over anything.

  That’s how the abuse had slowly started again.

  If Dee laughed at something she wasn’t supposed to laugh at, he’d tell her she was stupid. If they were out together and he thought her gaze lingered too long on another man, he’d squeeze her hand or forearm until she was sure he’d break it. One time she asked a very innocent question about one of Rooster’s friends who they’d met for dinner one night, and he smacked her across the face.

  “Why? Do you want him?” he screamed in her face as she tucked herself into the fetal position on the Persian rug in their living room. “Is that why you’re so curious?”

  She’d lock herself in their guest bedroom as he pounded on the door. It took him about an hour to calm down and apologize, but he always did, no matter what.