“Good evening, Mr. Brennan,” Ben offered.
Lily didn’t hear what Ben said or this gentleman’s response. All she noticed was the way his green eyes locked on hers. Her quick assessment of his appearance told her all she needed to know. His dark gray suit and the furrow of his brows indicated an overwhelming intensity. She couldn’t help her curiosity.
After he broke their stare to round the corner, Lily turned to Ben. “Who was that?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “He’s a publicist. Not the friendliest guy, as you can tell.”
Lily nodded in acknowledgement, still feeling vaguely unsettled and somewhat exposed.
When they reached the doors leading into the auditorium, Ben shook both their hands again. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.”
Lily’s smile lit her face. “Without a doubt! I can’t thank you enough for showing us around.”
“It’s been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Maggie agreed.
They said their goodbyes, and Ben walked back toward the door. Lily thought of one more thing she wanted to say.
“Hey, Ben! Tell Daniel that we hope the show has a great run!”
He laughed and assured them that their message would get back to Daniel.
As they made their way back to the streets of New York City, Lily’s mind remained jumbled with thoughts of her second time seeing Daniel on stage until Maggie interrupted them.
“You know, I was surprised by how dark his stage makeup was.”
Lily’s brow furrowed in confusion. It seemed fine to her. “Hmmm. I didn’t notice it. I guess it just blended in to me from where we were sitting.”
“No, I didn’t mean on stage. I meant back there. When he peeked out the door.”
“Okay, you’re going to have to explain. What are you talking about?”
“Wait, you didn’t see him?” Maggie seemed genuinely surprised.
“The only time I saw him was on the stage.”
“Oh, God, Lil. You missed him!”
“Maggie, what are you talking about?” Exasperation crept into Lily’s tone as they stopped.
“Okay, remember when we were at the dressing rooms, and Ben was telling us what else was down that hallway?”
“Yeah, of course,” Lily was still unsure what she’d missed.
“Well, as we were walking toward the dressing rooms, Daniel must have heard someone coming. He opened the door, peeked around, and then shut it quickly—”
“Wait—was that right after he showed us the secret door?”
Maggie nodded.
Lily took in a sharp breath. “Oh my God. I was looking at the photos on the wall. There was one by where we stopped, it was of the cast of the last Grease production. I was looking to see if I recognized any of them!”
She was practically yelling, but tried to play it off as talking over the sounds of the city. Maggie kept pace with her as she sped up in aggravation.
A drink was definitely in order.
When they had entered the city that afternoon, they talked about having a drink after the show at the Broadway Lounge, a bar in the Marriott Marquis that overlooked Times Square. Lily headed there. She knew she was being irrational, and behaving just like the fangirl she’d met the first time she and Colette saw Daniel on stage. Except that she wasn’t upset with Daniel. She was upset with herself. She’d missed an opportunity to see him right in front of her.
She should have been paying attention.
Lily vented her frustrations to Maggie over two very expensive, very strong Cosmopolitans—which seemed appropriate for the city.
“I mean, what the hell, Mags? What. The. Hell? How did I miss that?”
Maggie drained the last of her second Big Apple martini. “I dunno, Lil. But, come on. It’s kinda funny.” She started giggling. She’d been holding it in since they left the theater.
“I can’t believe you’re making fun of my cluelessness,” Lily said through laughter of her own.
Maggie’s giggles quieted but didn’t stop completely. “I so wish you’d seen his face. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to barricade himself in that room or make a run for the secret door.”
“Maybe we should be offended by his rude behavior,” Lily said in mock seriousness.
Maggie nodded in agreement. “Girl, he did—literally—slam the door in our faces.”
Lily sighed. “Yeah, but think about it from his perspective. Two girls he doesn’t know heading toward him—how was he to know we had no intention of tackling and kidnapping him? From what Ben said, he’s already had people bothering him.”
Having so-called fans grab you couldn’t be easy to live with, no matter where or how many times it happened.
“Okay, good point,” Maggie conceded.
“I can understand why he did it. And he probably did need to talk to the director. I get it. I do. But I’m still mad at myself for missing it.” Then, Lily grinned. “And I’m still mad at you for making fun of me.”
Chapter Four
Daniel Brighton had hoped his six-week run on Broadway would be less trying than filming a movie.
But that proved not to be the case. It seemed everyone wanted something from him. Fans waited for him when he arrived at the theater, and when he left it. The handful of times he did stop to sign autographs and take pictures with them, the images were uploaded almost instantly. Every few days, paparazzi photos circulated their way around the Internet. So far, they’d caught him having drinks with friends at a bar, leaving Trattoria dell’Arte after dinner, and walking the streets of Midtown. They’d even snapped him coming and going from his hotel, making it hard for him to feel safe anywhere.
He knew it was part of the job. It was to be expected. But Daniel had always been a relatively private person. He didn’t mind the media appearances tied to his work, but when he wasn’t working, or promoting his work, he wanted to be truly off the clock. He never understood why people wanted to know things about him that he thought were trivial and mundane. He was just an actor—no one special. In fact, when he’d taken the role on In My Life, he didn’t think of it as a career, or as a path to stardom. He’d just needed the money, and it was a paying gig that fell into his lap.
When the show found its following, he was more than surprised at how devoted the fans were. It thrust him into a spotlight he hadn’t ever expected to stand under, but did that mean he had to give up his privacy?
He tried his best to take it in stride, but he wished that both fans and the paparazzi would realize it was just a job. Not everyone in the entertainment industry wanted the kind of constant attention that the press and the public pay them. True, some went out of their way to encourage it. And many needed the nonstop affirmation that they’re worth something. But it was the idea that celebrities “knew what they were getting into” that bothered Daniel the most. He hadn’t known, and he certainly didn’t ask for it. For him, it was a paycheck, and he liked to think of it much like any other nine-to-five.
What he did in his downtime, and who he spent it with, shouldn’t matter. He might not like the loss of anonymity, and Daniel was starting to accept that aspect of fame as part of his life, but his friends and family shouldn’t have to. He felt fiercely protective when the people he was closest to received unwanted attention from fans and the press just because of their association with him. They were just as protective of him, of course, but in Daniel’s mind, the way they were treated—specifically the way one particular woman was treated—bordered on harassment, and he took precautions to prevent it as much as possible.
At the end of the day, though, he just wanted to be Dan—the guy who liked to go have a beer with his buddies and maybe strum his guitar—not Daniel Brighton, Hollywood heartthrob. It didn’t seem like that was too much to ask.
When the curtain went down on A Streetcar Named Desire, Daniel’s next project was a film called Borderlines, based on the first book in a trilogy by an up-and-coming author. The first book center
ed on fictional surgeon Grady Pierce and his time volunteering with Doctors Without Borders in a small village in Africa. In the second book, Grady inadvertently comes across information about a life-saving medical advancement that a pharmaceutical company has been keeping under wraps. The third book was set to be released in the coming months.
The role excited Daniel. He’d read the first two books before he ever knew they were being adapted for the big screen and appreciated the messages in them. He liked the idea that one man could change so many lives for the better. And as far as film roles went, the character challenged him, as did the physicality of the film. Dodging bullets and crashing cars would be new for him, and he looked forward to it, especially since most of the filming would take place in Morocco and South Africa over a period of ten weeks.
After a quick trip home to Los Angeles when the play ended, Daniel flew to the African continent for the first time. Morocco was a nice break from what he was used to in the States. The location was remote, which meant that there was hardly anyone around who wasn’t working on the film. Johannesburg was another story. It was a typical, cosmopolitan city with people constantly milling about, and that tended to make Daniel nervous. Paparazzi, though fewer than in the States, could easily hide in the crowds. And while he could take care of himself, he didn’t appreciate the obtrusive lenses when one particular friend came to visit halfway through the shoot.
Daniel had two days off during her stay, and since he’d rarely had a break, he decided that they should go out and enjoy the nightlife. They slipped into a nightclub unnoticed and danced to the worldly beats until the early hours of the morning. On their way back to the hotel a few blocks away, however, Daniel heard the quiet snaps of the camera.
Turning around, he glared in the direction of the flashes then quickened his pace. His companion put her head down and tried her best to match his long gait in her four-inch heels.
Of course, the flashes came faster. At least three paparazzi were snapping away, and soon the flashes were accompanied by taunting.
“Come on, Daniel. One photo!”
“Daniel, turn around, man!”
“Don’t be such a prick. It’s just a couple of photos!”
“Your girl’s looking good, Daniel!”
That remark stopped him in his tracks. He turned and strode toward them quickly, anger in his brown eyes.
“If you ever say something like that about her again, I will—”
He was cut off by the biggest member of the photog pack. “You’ll what? Beat us up? Turn us in?” He sneered as he continued to bait Daniel. “I’ve got news for you, man. You’re on a public street, which means we can do whatever the hell we want.”
Daniel’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to raise those fists and shove one of them, forcefully, into this guy’s nose. He was seconds away from doing just that when he felt a small hand on his bicep.
“Don’t.”
Her tone was soft but stern as he glanced down to her pleading hazel eyes. In the glare of the now continuous flashes, his own eyes begged her to let him do this. But she shook her head slowly, knowing it would cause more problems.
Grabbing his wrists, she started tugging, trying to pull him away from this situation. He let out the breath he’d been holding and followed her lead, turning his back without saying another word to the men with the cameras. The flashes brightened the night sky even more as they locked pinkies and walked toward the hotel.
Lily considered herself lucky.
A couple of months before filming on Daniel Brighton’s new project began, Gregory introduced her to Devon Blakely. The two volunteered together at the Playhouse—Gregory in marketing, Devon in sound and visuals—and Gregory thought Devon would be a great source for Lily’s story about an upcoming production.
When Devon mentioned his job, Lily’s interest was piqued.
Devon owned and ran FilmInsanity.com, a website devoted to all aspects of movie making that was steadily gaining ground among Hollywood insiders. It had started as movie and DVD reviews and then grew to include interviews with cast, crew members, and filmmakers.
The more they talked, the more interested Lily became. It was the kind of writing she would love to do, and she was surprised when Devon offered just that. He was apparently familiar with her work and asked if she’d be willing to write a weekly roundup of celebrity news—and gossip—for him. He seemed to think that the wit in her writing voice would be a perfect fit for the not-so-serious and sometimes too-serious world of entertainment.
But Lily had some reservations that she brought up when they met for coffee a week later to discuss the possibility.
“Look, Devon, I just want you to know that I don’t look at gossip in the same way as everyone else. I think all those rags are actually rather trashy,” she told him before taking a sip of her coffee. “Take this latest thing with Daniel Brighton, for instance. So he yelled at a paparazzo. Who cares? He was walking down a street on his own time, and they said something rude to get a rise out of him. How in the world is that news?”
Devon studied her as he took a sip of his latte. “You’re right. It’s not news. And if that’s not what you want to write about, that’s fine with me. To be honest with you, I’d feel much better about reporting facts anyway so that we’re not on any legal thin ice.”
“You’re sure? I mean, I know all that salacious stuff gets tons of hits.”
Devon nodded. “It does. But I’d rather be respected.”
She smiled. “Really? Okay, then. You’ve got yourself a columnist. But I’m only sticking to the stuff that has been confirmed by the celebrities themselves or by their publicists.”
She stuck out her hand, and they shook on their arrangement.
Writing her new column and having a place to express her views on all things celebrity quickly became the highlight of Lily’s week. She welcomed the opportunity to keep people informed and was true to her word about what she covered, and what she didn’t. Rumors of a new role were fair game. Rumors of who was dating whom were not.
Her role on the website grew as she became more comfortable with the pace and how it ran. Reviews were still one of its largest sources of page views, and when the final season of In My Life was released on DVD, Lily offered to write her take on it. And it did well. She knew where to send the link so that it would reach the show’s fans. Devon was impressed, and Lily continued to review films and DVDs that came their way.
It didn’t take Devon long at all to figure out that Lily liked Daniel Brighton.
When Lily heard that Daniel had been cast as Grady Pierce, she sent Devon an e-mail. She wanted to let him know that she’d write a brief story about it. But she also added a request at the end.
If there was any way the site could cover the filming, the press junket, the premiere, or even interview cast or crew members, Lily wanted in on it.
Ten days before the scheduled junket, Lily got an e-mail saying that FilmInsanity.com had a confirmed spot at the press conferences.
Lily spent the next week in a flurry of activity. She booked her flight, reserved her hotel room, and bought a new dress. She also did quite a bit of research about the movie itself. She’d already read the books, but she wanted to learn more about Doctors Without Borders and the locations they chose to film.
As the date came closer, her nerves grew.
“So how do these things typically work?” she asked Devon when they met for a cup of coffee.
He stifled a laugh at her nervousness. “First, you’ll sign in at the hospitality suite at the hotel. They’ll direct you to where it’s taking place. Then, it’s usually kind of a roundtable discussion. The participants sit up front, typically at a table on a small stage, and the media pass around a microphone. It’s first come, first served for questions, but if the publicists like what you’ve asked, they’ll come back to you.”
He set his cappuccino back in its saucer before continuing. “You know, Lily, you should g
ive Morgan Miller a call. She’s in Los Angeles and has covered a lot of these for us. And I know you two have become friends. She can fill you in on how junkets work.”
Lily nodded. “That’s a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!” After all, who better to talk Lily through it than someone as passionate about movies—and writing about them—as Morgan?
Lily’s flight to Los Angeles arrived at noon, and as offered, Morgan graciously picked her up from LAX. Morgan, too, had an appreciation for Daniel Brighton, and when Lily mentioned that she didn’t have anyone to be her plus one for the press screening of Borderlines, Morgan offered her services immediately.
“Thank you for picking me up,” Lily said, smiling as the peppy brunette released her from an unexpected hug.
“Are you kidding me? It’s no trouble!” Morgan opened the trunk of her tiny blue car and took Lily’s suitcase, a cluster of bracelets around her wrist jingling as she moved.
“Still, I appreciate it more than you know.”
“No problem, really. Thank you for inviting me to tag along tonight.” She smiled and pointed Lily toward the passenger side door. “Now, would you like to head straight to your hotel, or do you want to kill some time before you check in?”
Lily grinned. “Well, I’ve never seen the Pacific . . .”
“That I can handle! How about we go to Santa Monica Pier for a bit, then we can swing by your hotel to check in before the screening?”
“That sounds incredible.” Lily pulled out her sunglasses and tilted her head toward the California sun.
At the first hint of salt in the air, Lily took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the sun and the sound of the sea. She loved being near the ocean. Something about it made her both calm and contemplative. It gave her a sense of perspective. The vastness of the water and the endless horizon reminded her that in the grand scheme of things, she was like one of the grains of sand she stood on.
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