She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story)

by Sebastian, Max

  “Seems like it’s been successful, though. All those headlines I keep seeing.”

  “Yeah, it’s been pretty great. We’re the number one movie in the UK, France and Germany—and still in the US, too.”

  “The papers can’t get enough of you.”

  He smiled dreamily. “The papers can’t get enough of Hayley. I guess I can’t, either.”

  He signaled for me to grab the weights a moment, time to call it a day. “You know, you look familiar,” he said.

  I froze. Shit. He did recognize me. I scrambled to think of some way out of this, glancing at the door. Could I make it out before he caught me?

  “You’re here with Liona, right? I’ve seen you two around.”

  I shuffled a little. “Yeah. I’m tagging along.”

  “So you coming to the party tonight?”

  Was he inviting me to something? If we went out, he might not recognize me, but the paparazzi would eventually figure out who I was. What kind of headlines would that generate? I’d get off lightly if it was simply “Aaron Simpson hangs out with Hayley’s ex”. Perhaps it would be “Aaron confronts Hayley’s stalker ex”. Either the whole story would have to come out, or Hayley would have to dismiss me as simply some creepy guy who was stalking her after our marriage broke up.

  “Uh…Liona hadn’t mentioned a party,” I said, as I started feeling my hesitation going on too long.

  He said, “Huh. Well, we’re having a little celebration tonight—just something we’ve thrown together in my suite. Not too many people, but it’ll be good.”

  “Okay….” I said, less than certain. At least it was private.

  “Fantastic. We’ll see you then?” he said, but then paused on his way out the door. “Hey, I never did get your name?”

  “Uh…David,” I said, stupidly, my lips unable to get any other noise out of my mouth in response to that question.

  “Great to meet you, David. I’ll see you later.”

  *

  Back in my room, I sent a quick text message to Hayley:

  >Ran into Aaron in the gym. He thinks I’m here with Liona. He invited me to a party tonight.

  I took a shower as I waited for her to reply, and her message was there on my phone when I stepped out and dried off:

  >Very interesting! He said he met Liona’s boyfriend in the gym, and that he was cool I had no idea he was talking about you!

  I wrapped the towel around my waist and perched on the edge of the bed. It felt like Hayley was taking an overly simplistic view on what it meant for Aaron to invite me to a party. I replied to her:

  >Okay, but aren’t you worried he’ll figure out who I am? And if he doesn’t, someone else at the party will, then the game is up?

  I was picking out some clothes to wear when there was a knock on my door. I was so distracted by this strange turn of events that I didn’t even look through the peephole.

  “Liona!”

  “Hey!”

  She was wearing a black sequined cocktail dress that hung from her shoulders on tiny straps, revealing plenty of cleavage and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her blonde hair was swept up into a twist more elegant than casually professional.

  “Hey, there, boyfriend,” she said.

  “You heard.”

  I saw my phone flash with another message from Hayley.

  She said:

  >You worry too much. Everybody thinks my husband is back in LA, and that he’s old history. Only person at the party who will know who you are will be Liona, who you’re “dating” lol

  I nodded to myself. I did actually feel a little reassured. And she was right, I had Liona there, too, someone to talk to.

  “Everything okay?” she said, gesturing to my phone.

  “Oh, yeah. I just had to check with Hayley that I’d get away with going to the party, you know?” I picked up the shirt I’d laid out on the bed, and started pulling it around my shoulders.

  Liona stood up. “Please tell me you’re not wearing that shirt to the party.”

  I paused. “What? You packed it.”

  She shook her head. “Not for a party, David. Here, let me find something….”

  I dressed, even with Liona present, with the sharp blonde telling me once again that I didn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before when I mentioned the fact that a married man ought not to be getting dressed in front of a woman who was not his wife.

  But it was nice to have her company, and took the edge off the nerves as I finally stepped out of my room and headed for the elevators to make the trip to Aaron’s suite.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There were a lot of people packed into Aaron’s suite, but the huge space didn’t seem overwhelming, thankfully. Once again at a Hollywood function, my lack of achievements or contacts in the entertainment industry allowed me to become virtually invisible—a few people stopped to greet Liona as we milled around the place, giving me only a passing glance.

  Of course, this crowd was all for Hayley, and I couldn’t blame them. The first time I laid eyes on her, I did a double take. Her red hair was blonde now, dyed golden all the way through. Coupled with the short, white dress that fastened up the front with large buttons and she was every bit the Hollywood starlet. She moved with the confidence of one, too, greeting everyone with the same, bright enthusiasm that spoke of a bona fide movie star.

  We kept away from one another for most of the party, and I really didn’t blame her. She flashed me a few smiles, and I responded in turn when I thought we weren’t being seen, but there was a risk that if I was seen talking to her, other people might start asking who I was.

  Aaron Simpson seemed entirely tied up with someone or other from the movie, and I wasn’t going to break in to say hello. I even started wondering if he’d forgotten me entirely, which would have been completely fine with me.

  So I hung out with Liona, chatted to a few random strangers who, thankfully, appeared more interested in talking about themselves than finding out who I was, and generally soaked in the atmosphere, the wonderful food and the free Champagne.

  As midnight approached, the numbers started to thin out, and Liona excused herself to go talk to a minor actor on the far side of the room about the possibility of poaching his representation contract. I was chilling out, trying not to let it affect me that a couple of guys felt it was safe enough in the middle of a party just to break out the white powder and start sniffing lines right off the coffee table in the middle of everybody. Shocking as that was, I could also smell a hint of marijuana in the air as well—enough to help me deal with this scene as I drifted through the suite.

  I didn’t see Hayley coming, but suddenly, there she was, locking an arm in mine, a bright light dazzling me if I looked her way.

  “Don’t leave!” she hissed, clutching me close and apparently dragging me off toward a quiet corner.

  “I wasn’t leaving,” I insisted. “But…maybe it would be safer, if it gets late?”

  “Not at all. Nobody knows who you are. You look completely different with your hair like that, and those glasses. You’re perfectly safe.”

  “Okay.”

  We found a couch in a shady part of the suite, a monkey puzzle tree in a pot, which I couldn’t tell whether it was real or fake, gave added seclusion. We still sat carefully on either side of the couch, though—familiar, friendly, but avoiding the suggestion we were a couple.

  “How are you doing?” she asked me.

  “Oh, fine…you know. People are pretty nice. I’ve been with Liona a fair bit. It’s been okay.”

  Hayley grinned. “Liona likes you, you know that? She was thrilled when Aaron thought you were her boyfriend.”

  We could see the aforementioned blonde spitfire across the other side of the suite, trying to pitch to an actor who I recognized as being another of the prison guards from the Prisoner’s Wife.

  “She’s very nice,” I said. “It’s definitely helped having her around while you and Aaron have been…occupied.
”

  “She’s very pretty.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Very.” Then I switched the conversation back to my immediate concern, “You think Aaron will figure out who I am? I mean, I told him my name was David.”

  Hayley grinned. “Stop being so paranoid. He meets so many people. He is absolutely useless with names and faces unless you see him a lot. Trust me: You’re okay.”

  “You think I should keep up the pretense? That I’m…with Liona?”

  “I’d say so. Relax, seriously. He’s more preoccupied with making sure the financiers are happy, sounding them out about the sequel.”

  A young man in a black-and-white hotel uniform offered us both a top-up on our Champagne, which we both duly accepted. It was good Champagne.

  “So it’s really happening, then, your sequel?” I asked.

  “Looks like it.” She grinned. “She’s a blonde in the next one, you know that?”

  I laughed, “Prefer your natural color, but it's fun for a change.”

  “I always fought it—I like being a redhead, and I never wanted to be just another Hollywood blonde. But Aaron said she should be blonde now that she’s a fugitive…”

  I nodded. Aaron wanted her as a blonde, and so she was a blonde. It was kind of hot, though, that he was getting her to try things she’d never tried before.

  I said, “You’ll never be just another Hollywood blonde.”

  “Well. I have to do it now—and I kind of like how it attracts attention.”

  “That’s not just the blonde, you know.”

  She grinned again, loving the whole thing. “The studio’s given us the green light—everyone just wants to get going again, with the first one doing so well at the box office.”

  “That’s fantastic,” I said, leaning over to risk a hand on her back, stroking her proudly. “You’re fantastic.”

  She smiled. “Well, I just know I wouldn’t have been able to do it without such a supportive husband.”

  I laughed. “I really didn’t have anything to do with it, you know that? It was all you.”

  Hayley shook her head. “You remember it was all going horribly until you encouraged me to start flirting with Aaron.”

  “I’m sure things would have warmed up soon enough.”

  “No. I was nervous about his reputation. I was afraid he would do something that would make you angry, make you want me to quit the movie.”

  “We could have talked about it. You had to know I’d never be angry about you doing anything with Aaron if you wanted it.”

  She laughed, “I don’t know. What I’m trying to tell you is that if I’d married anybody else, I don’t think I’d have been able to do that movie. Or at least do it as well as I did. I wouldn’t be here, where I am now.”

  It did warm me inside to hear her say how important I was to her, I had to admit. I just wasn’t used to crowing about my own importance in any way. I said, “Well you are married to me, so it doesn’t really matter. As long as you stay married to me, I’m okay with whatever happens. Whatever you need to do.”

  She smiled. “You know, after we’re finished in Europe, Aaron wants to take me to Antigua for a week?”

  “Yes, I know. I think you’ll need the time off.”

  “And you’ll be okay with it? We’ll be on Aaron’s private yacht, drifting around the island.”

  “Of course,” I said, though I felt my stomach squeezed at the thought of Hayley being alone with Aaron for a week, away from me.

  "I might be able to squeeze a few days at home after that."

  "You'd better."

  “And then we’ll be touring around Asia…and then once that’s done, not too long after I’ll probably be shooting Prisoner’s Wife 2, whatever they’re going to call it.”

  “Sure.”

  I saw the concern in her face, the pity, the great apology. “It’s your life now,” I said. “You’re a movie star. You have to travel to make movies—and to sell movies.”

  “I'll be away from home for a few weeks -- sometimes longer,” Hayley said. “And it’s not fair to ask you to travel with me, whether in secret or not.”

  Oh God. I felt my stomach fill with molten lead. Was she giving me The Talk? I thought I’d never hear it again after I got married. The dreadful surprise, the awful reality of what had to be—the ghastly finality of it all. I thought I’d been lucky enough to meet Hayley while I was in law school, and that would be the end of the kind of rejection I’d received twice during college. But here it was again.

  I thought about pleading. About groveling. About telling her that I’d wait for her, that she could do as she liked. But I held my tongue. If this was the way it needed to be, it was the way it needed to be. And judging from the way Hayley set her face, she’d made her decision. In her mind, something had to change.

  I held my breath, waiting for that awful phrase: “we can still be friends”.

  She said, “I love you so much for being the way that you are, but it’s going to be hard for both of us being apart weeks at a time. and at least I will have Aaron while I’m away from you.”

  I paused, took a deep breath. Tried to think of anything else to talk about with Hayley that would keep her from saying the most appalling things she could utter to me: It’s over. We can’t do this any more. We’ve both moved on. It’s not right for either of us to be this way any more. I want a divorce.

  Then as we sat there, gazing across the room, Liona turned to us briefly, and gave us a quick wave and a warm smile.

  We both smiled back at her, and Hayley waved, then my wife’s agent turned back to the actor she was attempting to snare. Hayley said, “You know, I’ve been trying to understand you.”

  She peered at me, and added, “You know—really understand.”

  I remained silent, not knowing what to say, not knowing where she was taking this.

  She said, “I mean, I understand the logic, I think. I told you I did, didn’t I? I couldn’t have done anything with Aaron unless I was completely sure you really did want that to happen.”

  “I was sure,” I said. “I’ve always been sure.”

  “I can understand the logic that you want me to be happy, that you like the idea of me having the experience of another man, a new relationship and so on. That you like the idea of other guys wanting me. I think I understand that you feel a little nervous about losing me, that you’re a little jealous that someone else gets to have me—but that the whole thing about me being…well…so naughty…is so exciting to you that the jealousy doesn’t matter…”

  “You understand me perfectly,” I said.

  “I understood the theory,” she continued, “and in the end, I liked the idea of being with Aaron with your consent. If you were happy, I was more than happy. And then…when you were watching us…I don’t think I’ve ever been as turned on.”

  “It was pretty hot,” I said with a half-smile. “Wasn’t it?”

  “But it wasn’t the same as feeling what you feel.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant.

  She leaned forward, and over to me, speaking quietly. “I’ve been thinking…how would I feel? Maybe I feel bad about you being all on your own while I travel the world, while I make movies, while I spend night after night with Aaron Simpson.”

  “It’s okay, really. It won't be so long that we're apart each time.”

  “So I start thinking: what if you had someone to keep you company? You know... when you really needed it.”

  “Look, it’s never been about that—”

  She shook her head. “So I try to picture it…to visualize it, to imagine it really happened. How would I feel? So you go out on a date with another girl…so sure, I’m jealous, I’m desperately afraid you’ll like her more than you like me…that you’ll never come back to me.”

  “You know it would never be like that—”

  “I know. I trust you. I love you, and you love me. So I have to play on that trust. I’m your wife, you love me, you’ll come ba
ck to me. She’s pretty, the other girl, but maybe I have to trust that she’s not the kind of girl who would want to steal you away from me.”

  “I’m not sure I understand—”

  “Just let me put it out there,” she said, stopping me from interrupting her. “So, okay. I know I’m not going to lose you. I know the girl we’ve both agreed on is not going to steal you. Are you going to want her more than me? I don’t know. That makes me a little jealous, still. But let’s move on. You spend time with her, you go on a date with her.”

  She was gazing across the room again, and following her gaze, I saw that she had to be looking at Liona. Was she picturing me going on a date with her agent?

  “I try to imagine it from your point of view,” Hayley continued. “You’re flirting with her over dinner—it makes you feel good. It’s nice that she makes you feel wanted, feel appreciated, feel desired. You want her. She’s pretty, she’s sexy, she’s nice. But you’d never do anything because you’re married, and because I’d never accept it.

  “Only, what if I did accept it? What if I was the one to encourage you to date her in the first place? So you want her. You both want each other—because I know for a fact that she wants you, David.”

  A couple of partygoers drifted by, stopping Hayley in her tracks. And then, another waiter appeared to top up our Champagne. I wanted to ask her if she wanted to go some place more private to talk about this, whatever it was. At the same time, I didn’t want to break her flow.

  Coast clear, she said, “So I try to think about how it would be. And with all that trust in place, all the negative feelings, the anxieties dealt with, I think about you…you want her…you’re so hard at the thought of being with her. At the end of dinner, you find a hotel room and you’re making out like teenagers—and it’s so exciting, this new sexual relationship.

  “And you’re fighting to tear off each other’s clothes…and she sees your beautiful cock, your beautiful hard cock…and she wants it inside her so badly. Maybe she feels envious of me, because I get to have you whenever I want it—I’m still your wife, I’m still the most important to you.