Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie 2)

by Kimberly Adams

  I felt his lips all the way through my body, suddenly remembering his mouth between my legs.

  “Where should I be?” I murmured, closing my eyes and turning my face slightly toward his.

  His lips were so close to mine. I exhaled sharply at the wave of wanting that rolled through me.

  “In here, V.”

  His hand began at my neck, sliding excruciatingly slowly down my chest. His palm settled over my left breast, over my beating heart, and I gasped, trying to stifle the moan.

  “Keaton…”

  “Act with your heart. Perform with your soul. Your brain is irritating the hell out of me.”

  My eyes snapped open, and he caught my face in his hands.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I demanded. He grinned suddenly, his grin hovering just over my lips.

  “It means you think too much, goddamnit.”

  His Clint Eastwood impression forced a smile out of me.

  The phone jarred us from the moment. He pulled away, and I could see him take a deep, steadying breath near his desk. “Yeah, Kath.”

  Her voice sounded through the phone. “Mr. Fowler is here.”

  “Thank you,” Keaton answered, his eyes meeting mine.

  Nobody’s Fool

  K

  To his credit, Fowler stalked into my office as though he had every right to be there. He moved to Vivian like I wasn’t even there, reaching for her.

  “You’re okay? What did the doctor say?” he asked worriedly.

  “Everything looks good. I’m fine, the baby’s fine,” she assured him, her eyes darting nervously to mine.

  “She has a series of appointments set up over the next few months. I’ve also arranged for an acting coach, and I’ll be communicating the set schedule and flight information by the end of the day.” I walked toward them, keeping an even distance.

  Fowler stared me down, and I ignored his aggressive stance.

  “Thank you, Keaton.” Vivian’s soft voice eased the tension between the three of us… a little.

  “I asked you to come here because I have one thing to tell you.” I locked my jaw, keeping my own confident gaze. “I’m going to keep my distance. On the set, in private, in general. I’m respecting the fact that you and Vivian have unresolved issues. And I won’t get in the way.”

  Fowler nodded once, not even pretending to be impressed. “Good. Vivian, let’s go, okay?”

  She nodded, those big, blue eyes trained on me the entire time. I knew that I’d made an impression on her, at least.

  And that was all that mattered.

  “Wait.” I tucked my hands in my pockets. “Listen. I can’t stop what the paparazzi will create. They know that we’re engaged, and that she’s having my baby. I want to be sure that you won’t take your irritation with the press out on V.”

  He opened his mouth and closed it, glancing down at Vivian. “I don’t blame her.”

  Shrugging, I turned back to my desk. “Good.”

  “Thank you Keaton,” she repeated, giving me one more fleeting look before following Fowler out the door.

  And then she walked out, taking my baby with her.

  I spent the rest of the morning working on the set schedule, meeting with Max, and finally agreeing to skip the screen test for Ash Salter and cast him opposite of Vivian in Round-Up.

  And then, I spent the rest of the afternoon in my apartment, re-watching Vivian’s audition recordings while drinking a fifth of whiskey.

  And staring at the ultrasound picture.

  My baby.

  I sat back on the couch, closing my eyes and listening to her voice on the flat screen. I wanted my daughter to have Vivian’s big, blue eyes. As much as I wanted a boy, I wanted a girl even more.

  That was unexpected.

  I imagined holding my baby in my arms. In almost twenty-seven years, I’d never held a baby.

  Ever.

  I opened my eyes to watch Vivian on the TV.

  By letting her go, I was trying to ‘set her free’ and all that bullshit. By eleven PM, what I guessed was the prime screwing hour for domestic couples in suburban Ohio, I couldn’t stop imagining her in bed with Fowler.

  Though my booze-filled haze, I texted her.

  Me: Are you awake?

  I waited.

  And then I passed the fuck out.

  ...

  Banging.

  On my door.

  Dragging myself off of the couch, I scratched at the two days’ worth of growth on my jaw and cringed at my thick, cotton tongue.

  “What!”

  “Kid! Open up.”

  Frank. Fuuuuuck.

  I threw the door open, turning for my bedroom.

  “Keaton. We have to meet with her agent in an hour. What is this- Jack? A fifth of Jack fucking Daniels?”

  I ignored his muffled voice through the door, flattening my hand on the wall above the toilet. I had never wanted to simultaneously take a piss and drink a gallon of water so bad in my entire life.

  “Give me ten minutes,” I called, shaking my dick twice before moving to the shower.

  Fumbling with the faucet, I finally got the cold water to stream directly into my mouth.

  “You see the news?” he demanded, and I flinched at his nasally voice. The acoustic assault in my spacious bathroom was like a blade to the brain.

  “No. I just woke up.” I used the single bar of soap to wash every part of me as quickly as possible, and my head began to pound by the time I’d reached my calves.

  “Star. OK!, US, even Entertainment Tonight. All you and Vivian. They’re calling you the ‘Hollywood High School Sweethearts.’ They printed your baby news, and even got their hands on a snapshot from the two of you at that amusement park last month.”

  “High school? I’m almost twenty-seven years old.” I slammed the faucet off, grabbing for the towel. Frank was just outside my door.

  “They’re about five seconds away from calling you two either Kivian or Veaton, they can’t seem to decide.”

  I tucked the towel around my waist, reaching for the celebrity rag in Frank’s hand.

  Sure enough, there I was, down on one knee, proposing to Vivian right in front of the Round-Up at Idlewild Park.

  “What in the hell, kid.” Frank punched me in the gut, and I tensed just in time, glaring at him. “Is that a six-pack, or just your fucking liver?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Frank, I’ll dry up for a while. Yesterday, letting her leave… was hard. But I know I need to focus. As much as you piss me off, I appreciate you looking out for me.”

  “Someone’s gotta,” he quipped, moving to the kitchen. “You’re the son I never had. Thank fucking God for that,” he mumbled. “You drive me crazier than Jan does, most of the time.”

  I heard him open the refrigerator while I prayed that my housekeeper had picked up my dry cleaning.

  Three suits. Thank God.

  “Do you nag the hell out of her too?” I pictured Frank’s wife, a few inches taller than him and full of piss and vinegar half the time. Over the years, I’d gotten used to Jan’s brash attitude.

  “Suck a dick. Red Bull, vegetable juice, and… oh, a lemon. Nice. Kid, you need groceries.”

  “We’ll get something on the way. Come on.”

  I adjusted my watch, and he closed the fridge, shaking his head. His beady eyes gave me a once-over, and he smoothed his slick, black hair.

  “Fucking youth. Go to bed with a bottle of Jack, wake up looking like a million dollars. Enjoy it while it lasts, Keaton.”

  I ignored his comment, following him out the door.

  Three hours and two Red Bulls later, I had contracts and an offer ready for Vivian. “Would you like me to overnight them to her, Mr. Thane?” Marcus Tate, her newly employed agent, reached to shake my hand.

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Frank and I spoke at the same time, and I gave Frank a long, sideways glare. “No,” I repeated, accepting the contracts. “I’m
planning to fly out to Ohio and deliver them personally. I want to be able to answer any questions she may have, and I want to sit in on her session with the acting coach that I hired for her.”

  “Well.” Marcus glanced down at her headshot, giving a resigned nod. “You’re a lucky man. When I spoke with Miss Hale on the phone this morning, I was impressed by how genuinely professional she was. Very articulate, too.”

  “Yes, she is,” I agreed, gathering the last of the paperwork. “You’ll meet her this weekend. I’m flying with her here for the Sundance Charity Ball.”

  “Ah, her first official public appearance.” Marcus winked, reaching for his bag. “I’m sure Emmet is having a field day with this.”

  I nodded, remembering the three unanswered messages from Emmet Hastings still waiting in my voicemail. He was my public relations boy wonder, and had somehow managed to douse the fires of my publicity nightmare after I’d found Kelsey in bed with her boss.

  Knowing Emmet, I expected him in my office within minutes.

  “Emmet knows what he’s doing. He’s the one who suggested the ball for Vivian’s official premier.”

  He paused at the door, grinning. “Does Vivian know?”

  I smirked. “Not yet.”

  Frank sighed deeply, and shook his head, leading Marcus out of my office. They attempted to close the door behind them, but sure enough, Emmet slapped his hand against the wood.

  He pushed past a frustrated Kathy in a rush of silk scarves and dramatic curses. “Keaton! If you weren’t so pretty, I’d have left your ass a long time ago,” Emmet snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. “Really? This?”

  He slapped the OK! magazine down on my desk, his painted fingernail tapping the photo of my smiling face expectantly. “‘Keaton “The Kid” Thane proposing to newcomer actress Vivian Hale last month in Pennsylvania. Rumor has it that Vivian Hale will be starring in Thane’s upcoming film, Round-Up. These Hollywood High School Sweethearts are expecting their first child in April.’”

  “March,” I corrected, arching one eyebrow.

  “April, March, who in the hell cares, honey? Jesus, I need a drink.”

  Emmet fanned his face, his oversized sunglass and gaudy rings reflecting in my sunlit office.

  Shrugging, I turned to stare out at the Los Angeles skyline. “I love her, Emmet. Let them print what they want. The more press, the better. I’m casting her in Round-Up with Ash Salter.”

  “Lord have mercy.” Emmet dropped to the couch dramatically.

  I’d told him long ago that he was a southern woman trapped in Bruce Willis’ body, and I was pretty sure he took that as a compliment.

  “Everything is fine. She’ll be perfect at the ball.”

  “Except she lives with some schmexy teacher in small town Ohio.” He ran his index finger over both of his manicured eyebrows, still stretched out on my couch. “Yes, I did my homework. Part of doing good PR is doing better PI.”

  Stiffening, I looked down at the contracts. “Yes, she’s there. But not for much longer.”

  “And he is…?”

  “Her former fiancé.”

  “God in Heaven.”

  “She has some baggage, but so do I.”

  “Ah, baggage.” He snorted. “How is the blond train wreck of Rodeo Drive, Kelsey, that bitch?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one who is supposed to be keeping tabs on her,” I drawled, gathering my laptop.

  Emmet joined me at my desk, glancing in my bag. I let him reach for the ultrasound photo that I’d tucked in the edge of the folder.

  “It’s true, then? You got her pregnant? How do you know the baby is yours?”

  I held my palm out, and he returned the photo.

  “I know it’s mine.”

  “Hmm.” He cocked his hip to the side, pouting his lips indignantly. “You want this.”

  “Yes, I want this. I want her. I want a family. My family. Vivian and my baby.”

  His expression softened, and he covered his mouth with his fingertips. “Oh, honey. Come here.”

  “Em, I’m good. I don’t need to hug it out. I need to get on a fucking plane.” I patted his back, snatching a tissue from the box on my desk and handing it over to him. “Handle it while I’m gone, okay? All of… it. Let them draw picket fences around us and tell them we’re… we’re looking at houses in Pasadena. Tell them we’re happy. I need as much help for this movie as I can get.”

  He nodded toward my mid-section curtly. “Ash Salter? Good thing you’re as cute as a button. He is one fine piece of… man.”

  Rolling my eyes, I exhaled exaggeratingly. “Great. Thanks.”

  Finally alone, I had about an hour before I had to get to the airport for my flight into Pittsburgh. I’d had every intention of going to her when I’d told her to go home yesterday. I needed to see where she was from, and I wanted to meet her parents.

  This was happening.

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced down at the text.

  V: I was awake. When you texted last night. I didn’t answer because I would have started crying again. I miss you, Keaton.

  I smiled, reaching for my phone.

  Me: I miss you, V. And I miss you, baby. I’ll see you both soon.

  I was already half-way out of my office when her reply slid through.

  V: Not soon enough.

  I shifted my bag, grinning as I texted my way to the elevator.

  Me: I hope you mean that.

  V: You know that I do.

  I stopped at my apartment, packed my bag, and got to LAX in plenty of time. My flight wasn’t boarding yet, and something caught my eye in the gift shop near my gate.

  I walked to the stack of those little, one-piece baby outfits, grinning at the words on the front of the shirt. Embellished in gold to match the star behind the letters read “Best Supporting Star.”

  Chuckling, I paid for the outfit, tucking it into my carry-on.

  Ruthless People

  V

  After spending the morning talking on the phone to Marcus, my aggressive new agent, I was finally starting to believe that all of it was real.

  I was starring in a movie.

  It was true what they say; it’s all about who you know. I never would have gotten the opportunity had it not been for Keaton.

  I’d been home for two days and I already missed him.

  “Did I tell you they’re going to fly me here whenever I want? From the set?”

  Matthew moved across our bedroom to the bathroom. “Yes. But I don’t want you constantly traveling, Vivian,” he called through the open door.

  “I’ll be okay,” I assured him, fumbling with the bottle of cocoa butter lotion. I slid my hand under my t-shirt, smoothing the cream over my stomach. The stretch marks on my hips were bad enough, and I wanted to try and avoid them on my stomach as well.

  He turned in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame and crossing his arms over his chest.

  My hand stilled over my bare stomach, and I lifted my eyes to his. “What?”

  He nodded toward my midsection. “It’s hard watching you do that, knowing that you won’t let me touch you.”

  I immediately pulled my hand away, sitting back on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

  He stared for a long moment, finally shifting his gaze to the carpet. “You know, you barely said two words to me on the plane. You spent the whole day yesterday reading the script, and two hours on the phone with your agent this morning. Vivian…” he stepped closer, and I narrowed my eyes, looking up at him.

  “I’m sorry, I just have so much to do, and-”

  “I want you to answer me honestly.”

  Caught off guard, I snapped my mouth shut, lowering the bottle of lotion to the comforter. “I am honest, Matthew,” I replied, indignant.

  He lowered to the bed next to me, careful to keep a distance between us. “If I walked out right now, would it devastate you? Would it break your heart?”

  I didn’t expect his words. I
froze, sliding my feet over the carpet and turning to him. “Walked out? You mean, left? Me?”

  “Yes. Left us. Gave up on this, on everything we had. On everything we ever had.”

  My stomach churned. “Is that what you want?”

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  I reached for my ponytail, but he caught my hand, pulling it to his strong chest. Even through his shirt, I could feel how tense he was, waiting for me to answer him.

  Honestly.

  I owed it to him. I thought about the past year, trying to remember the way that I felt before I’d met Keaton.

  Anger. Fear.

  The need to move on.

  “I didn’t expect us to be together again. I was in the process of getting over you when I was living with Gram.”

  Oh, God, my words sounded almost defensive. I turned to him, and his expression hardened.

  “Vivian,” he replied quietly, lifting my hand to his lips. He pressed a long kiss against the back of my hand, and I squeezed my eyes closed, fighting through the terrible, disconnected feelings coursing through my veins. “I’m going to say this once. And it’s going to hurt. Okay?”

  I pulled my hand away, my heart thudding. “What?”

  “What you did to me… walking out on me like that, leaving me here to pick up the pieces alone? I’m not ready to forgive you for that. I thought maybe I was… I thought I could, before you met him, when I still thought that you loved me.”

  “Matthew…”

  “Now… maybe I never will be. I love you, but what you did to me will always be there… and now he will always be there.”

  My breath lodged in my throat. I attempted to say his name, but the lump of tears strangled my ability to speak.

  His dark eyes met mine. “And now, with him? It would have been one thing for you to just move on and let me go, let me break. But for you to keep me waiting like this… while you’re thinking of him. I know you’re thinking of him-”

  “Matthew-”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  The tears erupted then. “Matthew-”

  “Stop saying my name. Stop crying,” he snapped, and I covered my mouth with shaking hands, the onslaught of memories and emotions breaking me down, crumbling me from the inside out.