by Fiona Riley
“Where are we headed to today? Makeup trailer? Back lot? Seedy hotel bar?” She started to unpack her tablet to take any necessary notes.
Tremont smiled as he sat next to her but grimaced immediately and held the side of his head again. “Not today, Hayley. Today we’re headed to your place.”
“My place?” Hayley panicked. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done laundry, or cleaned, or washed any of her dishes. The more she thought about it, the more she was positive her apartment looked as though it had been ransacked in a robbery and left untouched for crime scene investigation.
“Mm-hmm. Unless you plan on wearing that outfit for the next three days,” he said as he pulled down his shades and surveyed her clothing with skeptical judgment.
Rude. “Wow, that was judgy. Three days? Where are we going that I need a change of clothes for three whole days?”
“Boston. Your flight leaves in three hours. That’s just enough time for you to head home and pack a bag, get to the airport, and catch the next flight out. Oh, and grab a cell phone charger because your phone is dead. I called you like ten times before I had to look up your work number. Thank Gucci you were at your desk…” Tremont wiped his forehead dramatically.
“Oh, my bad.” Hayley pulled her phone out of her bag to confirm it was indeed dead. Wait, did he say Boston? “Boston? Do I have any say in this?”
Tremont glanced over at her briefly before looking down at the phone in his hand and pulling up the airline’s website. “Well, you have about two minutes to make up your mind—but, no, not really.”
“Oh. Good to know,” Hayley said as she leaned back into her seat and directed her attention to the window as the town car sped up on the expressway.
“It’s warm in Boston, but not as warm as here,” Tremont supplied from next to her. “You may want to pack some warmer clothes. And some more stylish shoes.”
Hayley laughed and ignored his comment. This was another thing that had been happening lately, Tremont had been giving her unsolicited clothing and accessory advice. Emerson had assured her it was his way of opening up to her. She had mixed feelings about it. Even if he was always right.
* * *
Hayley couldn’t remember another time when she had packed so fast. She checked and double-checked her carry-on and small suitcase en route to the airport. She had the essentials: her ID, wallet, cell phone with charger, tablet, work stuff, clothes, toothbrush. Oh, and more stylish shoes. She knew this because Tremont gave her a brief nod of approval, so she figured they would do just fine. She supposed whatever she was missing she could pick up when she got there.
As they approached the airport, Tremont turned to her. “Okay, so let’s debrief a bit.”
Hayley nodded. That’s what Tremont called her being updated on all things Emerson, debriefing.
He rubbed the area in front of his ear and opened and closed his jaw again before speaking. “I’ve recently taken up swimming and have developed a nasty ear infection.” He held up his hand and shook his head. “Don’t ask.”
“I just assumed it was from the swim lessons Emerson told me you were taking on the side to impress Sebastian at your beach date this weekend,” Hayley said. Emerson had been sharing more with her, just not a ton about herself.
“She told you that?” Tremont’s expression was comical. Hayley tried not to laugh. “Ugh. Whatever. Anyway, I’ve been advised against flying, especially on a flight as long as the one from LA to Boston. So—until my symptoms resolve and these antibiotics kick in—I won’t be able to accompany you and Emerson across the country. Her manager David had a death in the family and can’t leave until tomorrow. And Emerson’s schedule blew up and she has to be out there tonight for a photo shoot and interview and some location-specific scenes for the movie reshoots over the next couple days. None of the other people in her camp can swing the short notice—she has a lot of loose ends to tie up here that require their attention. So that leaves you.”
“Glad to know I rank so highly on the list,” Hayley added sarcastically as she shifted in her seat to face him more fully. She was pretending to be offended, when in fact, she was excited. There hadn’t been many opportunities for her to be one-on-one with Emerson, let alone for any length of time. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for: a chance to have Emerson all to herself. That thought had her at the edge of her seat for a multitude of reasons. She’d had the sense that Emerson was flirting with her at the voice-over session, and the eye contact Emerson made with her during the sex scene had been on her mind constantly since that day. There had to be something behind those incredible eyes. Something she hoped existed for her and only her. But she wasn’t foolish either. She knew that she could be completely in her own head about this, and her attraction to Emerson could be entirely one-sided…but something told her it wasn’t. The same something that told her that Rachel and Emerson had a legitimate past when she first saw their backstage interaction so many weeks ago. So much had changed in that time, and yet she didn’t know anything more than what her gut told her: there was something there. Of course, her gut told her something was there between her and Emerson as well, but she had little if any proof to support that theory. Only a hope and some really, really X-rated dreams.
“It was Emerson’s idea, not mine,” Tremont added with his eyebrow raised. “I suggested she take her mother, but she said she felt like it would be a better use of her time to have you accompany her. So you could work on your piece or whatever.”
Hayley was pleased with this information. “I’m not complaining or anything, but—”
“This sounds like the start of a complaint.” Tremont eyed her with clear annoyance.
“It’s not”—Hayley paused—“but why does she need to be accompanied? I mean, she must make trips by herself once in a while, right?”
“Ha. I forget all your interactions with her have been in a controlled environment or in a private car,” Tremont replied, giving her a curious expression.
Hayley looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
Tremont sighed. “So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or anything, but Emerson is a big deal. And any travel she undertakes requires either security or someone there to run interference on fans or paparazzi or whatever freaky shit is bound to happen. So she doesn’t travel alone anymore.”
“That makes sense, I guess. But I gotta be honest, Tremont, I’m not exactly deft at deflecting unwanted attention or large enough to wrestle some rabid fan away from her.” The idea of having to fight off anything more than a fruit fly put Hayley on edge.
Tremont let a rare smile loose as he laughed. “Obviously not, Hayley. What is there, a hundred and fifteen pounds of you in that seat? Emerson is taller than you and has significantly more muscle. My money is on her, not you.”
“Hey! I may look thin and weak, but I’ll have you know I’m scrappy,” Hayley said as she raised her fists, ready for combat.
“I bet.” He looked amused. “We have security accompanying her on the flight and to and from the airport to the hotel. What we need is someone to sit with her and, uh, keep her occupied.”
Hayley was lost. “What does that mean?”
“It means”—he paused for dramatic effect, lowering his voice and leaning in—“Emerson is afraid of flying and refuses to medicate like every other good little celebrity who flies all over the world, because she doesn’t like the blunt feeling that comes with it. She’s afraid someone will catch her off her A game and cause a ruckus. So she needs a distraction. A companion, if you will.”
“And she feels like that companion should be me?” Hayley was shocked.
“No. She feels like that companion should be me,” he added with a laugh, “or her hair stylist or her makeup team. But they’re all busy. So, yes, that leaves you.”
“I guess I’m, uh, honored?” Hayley tried not to feel insulted by Tremont’s playful antagonism.
“You should be.” His expression was unreadable as he add
ed quietly, “I’m just teasing you. Like I said before, when she found out I couldn’t fly, she asked for you personally.”
“Cool.” Hayley felt herself buzz with anticipation as they pulled up to the drop-off line for departures. This was going to be a very interesting few days.
Chapter Eleven
Emerson stirred the drink in front of her and adjusted the brim of the hat to rest lower on her forehead as she checked her phone for the time. Tremont had assured her he would get Hayley here with plenty of time before the flight, but they were cutting it close.
She was trying not to overthink anything, but she was failing miserably. Tremont’s ear infection couldn’t have come at a worse time. Well, that wasn’t true…it could have been last weekend when she’d needed him with her in Colorado. Her stomach turned, and she felt nauseous. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else since.
Deidre had had the forethought to talk with a child psychologist and had set up a plan for them all to follow when it was time to talk with Rory. Emerson had sat in on a session to prepare before they all got together and filled Rory in on the details. She’d found herself more nervous during that meeting than when the time had actually come to tell Rory the truth, partly because the actual reveal, thankfully, was handled by Deidre and the psychologist. It had been a tense discussion and there had been a lot of questions, but Emerson had walked out feeling hopeful.
Rory was strong, and Deidre, Tom, and Alex were three of the most loving people Emerson had ever known. This would be a lot for Rory and Alex to take in, but they could do it. In her heart, she felt like it would make them all stronger, but she realized there would be an adjustment period first. Because if Emerson was being honest with herself, she felt like a burden was being lifted from her shoulders by telling Rory the truth. But she also realized that that burden was now squarely resting on Deidre and her family’s shoulders. This was far from ideal, but there was no way around it. And Emerson hated herself for that. This was her mess. This was her doing. This was just another example of how Emerson’s mere involvement in other people’s lives led to bad things. The dark cloud still ever present.
She’d stayed a few days to answer any of Rory’s questions and attend a couple of psychologist sessions with Deidre and Rory, but in the end, it was decided by the family that they needed time and space to heal and figure things out. She’d talked at length with Deidre and Tom about her plan regarding Hayley and the interview they were working on together. She’d been dancing around the topic of Rachel and Rory because she hadn’t been sure if her intuition had been right, but Deidre had agreed with her: They needed to take away Rachel’s power by neutralizing her weapon. Emerson had to be the one to break the news about Rory to the media before Rachel had the chance to. She just had to tell Hayley and make sure the narrative was clean and uncomplicated. Which was ludicrous because there was nothing any more complicated than this. But she had a job to do, and that job was to stay away from the family and keep the press at bay until the time was right to tell the whole truth, before Rachel could ruin things any further.
Still, Emerson felt a little banished all the same. Part of her wanted to grieve with them—this affected her, too. But she couldn’t make this about herself. Nor did she want to. That didn’t make her feel any less alone, though it was making her usual life anxieties much worse. Which was one more reason why flying to Boston right now felt like walking right off a cliff.
She glanced up to give herself something to focus on besides her own screaming anxieties. From her place in the private lounge, she could see people passing through security for this wing of the airport. She exhaled in relief when Tremont’s familiar fauxhawk passed into her line of sight. She could see that Tremont was saying something to Hayley and making her laugh. Emerson smiled at the exchange; she liked that they were getting along. Tremont could be a tough nut to crack, but he had warmed to Hayley in record time. She knew he meant well and had her best interests in mind, but he’d scared off more than his fair share of people—media and otherwise—with his protective and abrasive ways. Hayley seemed immune. That was just one more thing about her that Emerson liked more and more each day. Tremont was her family—it was important to her that they got along. That had been one of the dozens of red flags about Rachel—she and Tremont never got along. Ever. Another sign she’d ignored. She sighed.
“Yes, sir. We’re expecting her.” To her left, Francis—the muscled, plain-clothes-wearing security guy—spoke into his wrist microphone. Emerson assumed it was the announcement that Hayley was en route.
A few minutes later a similar-looking air marshal type escorted Hayley through the doors of the lounge and toward Emerson’s seat by the window.
“Hey, there”—Emerson looked up, raising her glass—“welcome to the Presidential Lounge.”
Hayley settled next to Emerson with a small wave. Emerson watched as she shuffled her messenger bag under her seat. “Hey, Em—er…you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Emerson laughed. She’d missed her in the time they’d been apart. She’d thought about her a lot over these past five days. It felt like a lifetime since she’d had any lightness, but Hayley made her feel joy immediately.
“Well, it occurred to me that you might be doing an incognito thing, and I didn’t want to blow up your spot,” Hayley said.
Francis cast a concerned look over in their direction, and Hayley looked a little freaked out.
“Don’t mind him. That’s Francis. He’s our security for the trip.” Emerson tried to reassure her.
“Really? ’Cuz he’s giving me a little side-eye,” Hayley said as she gave her a skeptical look and pointed at Francis.
“That’s probably because you said blow up before a flight,” Emerson teased. “He’s a very cautious man, that Francis.”
Hayley’s face relaxed. “Francis is into semantics. Got it. No joking with the hired gun—” She paused. “Shit. Can I say gun?”
Emerson laughed and flagged over a waitress in a black vest. She looked at Hayley expectantly. “Drink?”
Hayley glanced down at the drink in her hand and hesitated. “Sure. I’ll have a Captain and Diet, with a lime, please.”
The waitress nodded and handed her a glass of water before she walked back to the bar area.
“You’re so polite.” Emerson leaned back in her chair and took the opportunity to take in Hayley’s appearance. She was dressed in tight black skinny jeans with chunky leather boots and a soft-looking white linen shirt. She had the top three buttons undone, and when she bent forward Emerson could see a hint of cleavage and the top of a camisole. She had to remind herself not to let her eyes linger, though she immediately betrayed herself by staring when Hayley leaned forward to retrieve something from her bag. She had to be careful. She found herself more emboldened the more time they spent together, and this weekend they would be spending a lot of time together.
Hayley shrugged. “Mama raised me right.”
“Are you close with your mother?” Emerson asked. She really did care about the answer, but she also needed a distraction from the way Hayley’s glasses slid up so perfectly into her hair, causing the waves of her hair to cascade around her face in the most delicious way.
“Yeah, we get along well.” Hayley sipped her water. “We don’t have that best friend kind of relationship, but we get each other. You know?”
Emerson nodded and considered the answer before she said anything else. “Sometimes I think that may be better.”
“Are you close with your family?” Hayley took the cocktail the waitress brought with a polite nod, and she leaned back, relaxing into the chair. Emerson watched her fingers as she moved the ice around her glass.
“My sister and I are very close. We’re different, but it works,” Emerson replied with thoughts of Deidre and Rory fresh in her mind.
Hayley looked at her intently when she asked, “And your parents?”
“I never really knew my father.” Emerson paused as Hayley wet the ri
m of the glass with her lime. Well, that was distracting. “My mother has always been there for me, maybe in a less than traditional way than most mothers, though. We see each other a few times a month, but it’s more out of daughterly obligation than out of a burning desire to be in her presence.”
“Another, miss?” The waitress returned and motioned toward Emerson’s now empty glass.
“No thank you”—she checked her name tag to make sure she had her name right—“Sarah, two is my limit.”
Hayley looked at the empty glass Emerson handed off as she sipped the final contents of her own.
“Hayley, a refill?” Emerson held her hand up, signaling for Sarah to wait.
“Ah, sure. Thanks.” Hayley nodded toward Emerson’s disappearing glass. “That’s not the right glass for champagne. Are you breaking your own rules, Em?”
Emerson liked that Hayley remembered things about her and the way she used her nickname so freely, comfortably. She liked the way it sounded coming from Hayley’s mouth. “Soda water and cranberry juice.”
“No unnecessary depressants or stimulants. Noted.” Hayley gave her that easy smile she loved.
“So, rum, huh?” Emerson closed her eyes as she rested her head back on the chair. She knew it was only a matter of time now before they had to board the plane. She was trying not to think about it.
She heard Sarah approach and Hayley politely accept another glass. That was an impressive turnaround for a new drink. Maybe this lounge area worked on a different time continuum than regular life. She made a mental note to make sure Sarah was tipped well.
“Yup,” Hayley replied, her voice soothing, “wine makes me drowsy and beer makes me full. Martinis make me nauseous and tequila makes me naked. So, rum it is.”
Emerson opened her eyes. That got her attention. “That’s too bad. I like tequila. But not enough to drink it alone.”
“No one said you had to drink it alone. I just said it made me less clothed,” Hayley added as she sipped her drink. She paused seeming to realize what her statement implied. “Uh, I mean…I’m not saying…”