International Guy: Volume 4

by Carlan, Audrey

  “Peaches . . . I miss you the second I kiss you goodbye in the morning. I don’t ever need to miss you.”

  “That’s sweet, but I have a feeling this is going to be really good for us. You getting back to what you do best, me spending uninterrupted hours prepping for my role in the A-Lister series . . . everything is as it should be. At the very least, we’re on our way.”

  “This is true. We’re definitely on our way.” I sigh, letting out a relieved breath.

  “To a happily ever after?” She laughs.

  “Every day with you, Skyler, is my happily ever after.”

  5

  SKYLER

  “Remember the plan,” I remind Nate for the third time. “He can’t know what I’m doing or where I am.”

  “First of all, you’ve already told me this. Second, I do not like lying to your man. I don’t like to lie to anybody but especially not to Parker. He’s family,” Nate grumbles, and looks away.

  I roll my eyes and settle in my seat on my private charter, waiting for the captain to announce we’re taking off. Rachel is sitting next to him, and I watch while she places her hand to his forearm.

  “Babe, do this one thing. It’s not that hard. When Parker calls, and you know he will since he checks on Skyler through you as well as her every day, just go with it. She’s happy. She’s healthy. We’re chilling at home. No big deal.”

  Nate scowls. “I don’t like this plan.”

  I narrow my gaze at Nate while my new publicist, Elliott Black, maneuvers her tall, thin shape into the open captain’s chair next to me. Ellie is my new right-hand woman. We clicked the second Geneva James and Amy Tannenbaum, her literary agent, introduced us to Geneva’s personal publicist. Elliott Black is a down-home girl, from Nixa, Missouri, originally. She’s young for a publicist and a full-on shark in the industry, but she’s got a sweet side to her I think comes from being raised in the Midwest. Her chestnut-colored hair is cut in a short, chin-length bob. Her red tortoiseshell glasses match her crimson lips. She says the lipstick is her nod to fashion since she wears nothing but perfectly tailored suits every day. Though I wouldn’t call her unfashionable. I haven’t actually seen the woman in anything but the finest and most current designer suits in every color imaginable.

  At this point, I’m just thrilled that Geneva is willing to share Ellie with me. Not to mention her involvement in my plan has been crucial. I wouldn’t have known where to begin without her assistance.

  “You don’t have to like it, Nathan,” Elliott states in a stern tone, always calling Nate by his full name. She does the same with me. She never calls me Sky. Always Skyler. Even after two months of working nonstop together after the Tracey and stalker debacle.

  I’ve come to find the woman is beyond intelligent. She spun the entire horrible experience to the media in a way that ended up making Parker the hero to my damsel in distress, which worked huge on the public. Probably because it was closer to the truth than anything else.

  Still, a pang pierces my heart thinking about my ex-best friend, knowing she’s going to live out her days in a ten-by-ten-foot room in a high-security psych ward. Even with what she did, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Parker, however, is the complete opposite. The loss of her hand, which ended up being unsalvageable, and life in a penitentiary-style psych ward were not enough for my man. If the courts had allowed a firing squad, he would have been the first to sign up as a shooter, right alongside Bo, Royce, Randy Ellis, and Wendy. He loathes the woman to the point that even the mention of her name in any way makes him wince and snarl.

  “Yeah, babe, you just have to go along with it for now.” Rachel’s words bust into my head, banishing all thoughts of Tracey as I watch Rach run her hand up and down Nate’s arm in a soothing gesture.

  “All will be revealed soon.” Ellie grins a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. Her part in my plan so far has been executed to perfection.

  I lean over and pat Nate’s hand, so happy to have him alive and well and sitting beside me on a plane headed to the City of Angels, Los Angeles, California.

  “Nate, I promise, it will be worth a little bit of deception.”

  Nate frowns but nods, lifting his chin in assent. For him, my promise is enough.

  I squeeze his fingers briefly. “Thank you.”

  Elliott leans over and digs into her briefcase, pulls out a folder, and rummages through the pages. “These are the contestants the IG team is working with now.” She points to a handful of men’s and women’s names. When she turns to the last page, I gasp, seeing a woman who could almost be my twin.

  “Holy shit. Who’s that?” I ask, not capable of looking away from the woman.

  Ellie grins and taps the face of the blonde-haired, brown-eyed woman in the picture. “That’s Tara Darling, a budding actress and stuntwoman.”

  “No way! She looks just like me!”

  “I know. I made sure she dyed her hair to your golden tone and put in brown contacts. She’s actually a strawberry blonde with blue eyes normally.”

  I open and close my mouth, staring at the uncanny resemblance to myself.

  “Unfortunately, she’s much taller than you. About five eleven, but I’ve warned her to only wear flats on the set.”

  “You hired her? Why?” I stare at my doppelgänger.

  “Of course I did. When you came to me with your plan and we formulated this idea, I started searching for prospective contestants to ensure the pool of people would suit the end result, but also make for some damn good TV. The producer, Louise Gonzalez, is one of my best friends. She actually knew of Tara and suggested her. It will play out so well on television to have someone who looks like you when the guys are having to judge the contestants. And hopefully, it also makes your man think of you when he’s trying to tell her what to do or say, and makes him lovesick with missing the real deal.” She winks and grins again.

  I chuckle, grab the photo, and lift it up to show Rachel. “Look at this chick!”

  Rachel’s ice-blue eyes widen, and her mouth opens as she reaches across her husband’s seat to grab the paper. “No way! I’m so pumped! This is going to be a blast, watching Parker squirm!” She chuckles and hands the image back to me.

  I bite into my bottom lip and trace the woman’s face in the picture. Her eyes are a little farther apart than mine, her chin pointier, but she really does look similar to me. It will be interesting to see how Parker responds to my doppelgänger in real life.

  Butterflies take flight in my belly as I think about my man and what is on the horizon. I’ve never felt more confident in our love and future than I do right now. He may freak out, but once the shock wears off, I know his romantic heart will be filled with joy.

  I sigh and hand the picture back to Ellie. “This is going to be so much fun!” I smile at her and slap my hands against my thighs in a mini drumroll gesture.

  “It’s definitely leaps and bounds away from my normal system for image promotion, but it has a fairy-tale quality to it I love getting behind. Your man and the media are going to explode when this goes down.”

  “As long as we stick to the plan and I stay out of Parker’s sight in LA, we’ll be golden.”

  She winks and closes the file, placing it back in her briefcase. “Leave that all up to me and you’ll be just fine.”

  The captain’s voice over the intercom tells us we’ve been cleared for takeoff and to buckle up.

  The four of us clip our seat belts as directed, and I close my eyes, imagining it all playing out perfectly in my head.

  The stage is set.

  The pieces all perfectly placed.

  All I need is my victim.

  Victim being my tall, muscular, well-dressed, chisel-jawed, blue-eyed guy, who I love more than my own life, playing into each move I’ve laid out.

  All will work out as intended. I just know it!

  When we arrive at the studio in Los Angeles, Ellie sneaks me down the hall and into a viewing room above the stage.

  �
�Hey, Louise!” Ellie holds out her arms and embraces a Hispanic woman with long, dark hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail at her nape. She’s petite in size and stature, but her welcoming smile is big and bold.

  “Good to see you, girl. As you can see down below, everything is going as planned. Between Royce and Parker working with the contestants the last three days, we are ready to rock and roll. Not to mention, that Roy is smokin’ hot.” She fans her face. “Parker is nothing to sneeze at either, but I already know he’s taken.” She smiles at me. “Been keeping up on the celebrity ins and outs the past year, and your girl and he have been on them . . . a lot. This is going to be excellent for the ratings.”

  “Glad we could help each other out,” Ellie says, and turns around, holding her arm out to me. “This is the woman of the hour, Skyler Paige. Skyler, this is my good friend, Louise Gonzalez.”

  I take her hand and shake it. “Pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for helping me out with my little project.”

  Louise jolts back a step. “Are you kidding me? You and your guy coming on my new show is a huge boon for us. The entire network is going crazy over it.”

  “Well, you realize it’s just this first episode.”

  She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. We just need the one, and we’ll hook the viewers right off the bat. I plan on making television history with this pilot, thanks to you and your guys down there. Check them out.” She gestures to a glass panel about ten feet from where we stand.

  “Can they see us?” I look below where I can see the camera team—a bunch of people running around with headphones on, others standing at the sidelines behind the equipment—and it’s as if the clouds part and the sunrays shine through as my guy comes into sight, walking in from stage left.

  Damn, he looks handsome.

  Parker is wearing a stylish getup: a pair of navy slacks, a white dress shirt, sans a tie, and a beige jacket complete with tan suede patches at the elbows. On his feet are a new pair of camel-colored Ferragamos I bought him and added to his wardrobe. Even though there was considerable smoke damage to the furniture in my penthouse Tracey tried to burn down, the closet survived mostly unscathed, aside from the clothes smelling sooty, which a high-quality dry cleaning service was able to take care of without a problem.

  Parker is moving his hands and shaking his head as if he’s exasperated.

  Louise interrupts my thoughts. “No, we have the tint on right now. We’ve found that when the contestants are on the stage, they get really nervous if they feel like Big Brother is watching them, so we black out the screens but can still watch and manage the team below.”

  “How come we can’t hear anything?” I watch as Parker walks over to one of the production people who’s holding a clipboard and points down at it then at one of the chairs. He then proceeds to move over to the side of the stage and walk with a little swagger to one of the chairs, turn, smile at the team, and sit down. He props one ankle on the opposite knee, leans back, and runs his index finger along his sexy, kissable lips.

  Jesus, is it hot in here?

  He stands, makes a hand gesture again at the chair, and points to the side of the stage. One of the male contestants proceeds to mimic Parker’s movements exactly.

  “Here you go.” Louise presses a button, and the sounds from down below are audible in our control booth.

  “Excellent, Josh, just like that, man.” Parker claps his hands, and the blond guy in the chair smiles brilliantly.

  “Next up? Lamar Williams.” Royce points to a large black man wearing a pair of jeans and a red polo. His chest is broad with shoulders to match. Standing next to Roy, who’s a very large man, the guy looks like he could be a solid contender on a football field. “Show us your swagger, bro.”

  The guy takes long strides over to the side of the stage, lifting his chin as if he’s flirting with the camera right out of the gate. He moves like a panther, all sleek, dark-skinned yumminess in a big, muscular body. He gets to his chair next to Josh and takes a seat. Only he spreads his legs out wide.

  Royce shakes his head. “Naw, man, what you can’t forget is you’re on stage. That camera”—he points to the one about a dozen steps in front of them—“is capturing your entire body. The viewers want to see how good you look from the top of your cropped ’fro to the tips of your Pumas. Ya feel me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I snort as that hits Royce’s ears, and he drops his head and runs a hand over his shiny bald head. “Just don’t get too comfortable. Millions of people will be watching you. They do not want to get a shot of your crotch.”

  The younger man frowns, brings both of his feet to the footrest on his tall chair, and clasps his hands between his thighs where his legs are now opened an appropriate amount. “This work?”

  Royce nods. “Yeah, man. Cool.”

  “Next up. Jimmy Jones.” Parker scans the papers he’s holding. “Jimmy Jones? Is that your real name?” he asks as a ginger-haired guy with a full red beard moves to the side of the stage. He’s rocking a circular-brimmed hat similar to a folk-style fedora and paired with a plaid shirt, gray slacks, and a navy blazer. I’m not even sure what you’d call that look. Celtic-gnome chic, perhaps?

  “Yeah. Born and raised.”

  Parker tips his head. “It’s a roll of the tongue for sure. Not exactly going to sound too great on TV. You in the business?”

  “Sure am!” He preens under Parker’s attention.

  “Suggestion. And you know this comes from someone who works with a lot of wealthy and famous people, including the fact that I’m living with a celebrity myself . . .”

  My heart stops when I hear him mention me in a conversation my man doesn’t know I’m eavesdropping on. I hold my breath to hear.

  The guy swallows slowly and nods. “Anything, man. Any help would be awesome.”

  “Change your name. One or the other. Jimmy Jones sounds like a sausage, not a ginger-haired, good-looking guy in his twenties with his own unique style. Yeah?”

  The guy licks his lips and nods.

  “And that’s no disrespect to you or your parents. It’s just in my experience, even the best of them have pseudonyms working in this business. It helps make their name flow in the papers and fit the role they want to play in the industry. If you want to do commercials for egg-and-sausage biscuits, Jimmy Jones might be the way to go. If you want more serious roles, I’d dig a little deeper before we go live with the pilot.”

  Jimmy nods his head several times. “Cool, yeah. Thanks for the tip, man.”

  “All right, then. Show me what you got.” He points to the last chair in the lineup.

  I touch my fingers to the glass and watch my guy do his thing. In this particular instance, it’s teaching men to be more confident, look the part, and play the game for the TV cameras. He works seamlessly with Royce; where one is better in one area, they switch off taking the lead easily with no break in the flow.

  As I’m watching, one of the cameramen waves a hand to the glass screen; then a guy in the booth hits something, and the glass goes from blacked out and tinted to see-through.

  “Shit!” I look around, trying to find someplace to hide.

  I swear it happens in slow motion while I watch Parker and Royce turn around. Royce lifts his head to the booth, his ebony gaze zeroing in on mine. It takes only a moment for him to notice me.

  “Baby girl . . . ,” I hear come through the speaker in a very familiar, rumbly deep voice.

  No, no, no, no, no!

  Parker looks to Royce, his brow furrowed, and then he starts to lift his head up. At the same time, one of the booth guys stands up, towering in front of me, his back to the window, blocking me out completely.

  “What’s going on?” Louise says as though I’m not hiding behind a wall of man.

  The guy in front of me is rotund. He’s at least six feet and then some, with a large Santa-like belly protruding out, nestled against my form. He has both of his big hands on my biceps, but he’s not
digging in or touching me inappropriately. More like he’s simply keeping me still, hidden behind his girth.

  “Got you, girl,” he whispers through his lips, which are encircled with a mustache and craggy beard. I look up into his kind green eyes and smile wide.

  “Thanks!” I whisper back.

  “Camera two is flickering. Need maintenance on this one. We might need to switch it out before we go live in a couple of days,” one of the guys below says up to the booth, but I can’t see him behind the wall of man guarding me.

  I breathe as slowly as I can, trying to make my heart calm down from the little freak-out I had going regarding being caught. Still, I know Royce saw me.

  “How about you guys take a thirty-minute break, everyone get a snack, and we’ll get back to it after we diagnose the problem,” Louise says, and presses the button blacking out the glass behind my human wall.

  “That was close.” Ellie lets out a labored breath and leans against the table.

  “Pretty sure Royce got a good look at me. He’s going to tell Parker I was here.”

  Ellie shrugs. “Then we’ll tell him he saw Tara, your look-alike. Problem solved.”

  “Oh yeah! Perfect. Have they met her yet?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope.”

  Louise cuts in. “The female contestants come later today. We have several so that we can see which two will work best for the first few episodes. Can’t wait to watch that go down, now that I see just how much Tara and you look alike. This is going to be epic TV. Totally epic!”

  I let out my breath and rub my hand over my heart. “I hope so. I have a lot riding on how all of this plays out.”

  “Very true. How about we go to my office and talk about the specifics of what you’ve concocted, and I’ll see how much of it we can make happen, if not all of it. Sound good?”

  “Great!” I smile wide and follow Louise and Ellie out the door.

  Just outside of the box is my dream team, Rach and Nate. They pull up the rear, following us down the corridors, up a flight of stairs, and into a pretty room filled with flowers and TV posters. I scan each one and note how old some of these must be.