Camera Shy

by Lauren Gallagher

  them could wait long enough to get inside. And he did, because he wanted to. Because he wanted her, he desired her. Her. Not the Simone Farrell the whole world thought it knew, her. She didn't have to pretend to be anything, didn't have to put on an act. Except the whole lying about my name, my career, and every other relevant detail. She clenched her jaw as guilt rose in her throat. She needed to tell him. She couldn't keep lying. He had to know. He deserved to know.

  Then what? Keep pretending she didn't love him?

  She sighed. Good one, Simone. Another lovely mess you've gotten yourself into.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  At the end of the film's final shoot, Henry Wall clapped Simone on the shoulder.

  "I damn near lost my faith in you, my dear," he said. "But you've done well." He tapped the film can containing the day's footage. "I think you might be looking at another Oscar nomination."

  Simone beamed. In spite of all of the distraction lately, she was back at the top of her game. She slipped into character as effortlessly as she did during her first few films. The numbness was gone. She could feel again.

  As she headed back to her trailer to get her purse and head home, her smile slowly fell with the uncomfortable weight in her chest. She was back at the top of her game with acting, but Jason still dominated her thoughts.

  A week had passed since she left Tofino with her heart in her throat and his confession ringing in her ears. She hadn't called. He'd left a few messages.

  "Allyson, it's Jason. Look, I'm sorry, I'll understand if you want to back off, but . .

  . . I want to talk. Call me."

  "Allyson, it's Jason. Please, just give me a call."

  " Click"

  Simone sighed. She sat at the table in her trailer and cast a sideways glance at the Smirnoff bottle. No, she thought. That's not going to help. Though if it weren't for the fact

  that she was driving home in a few minutes, she'd be sorely tempted to do a couple of shots.

  That's when her trailer door flew open. Anne-Marie entered and tossed a tabloid in front of Simone. "Page nine," she said, helping herself to a cup of coffee. Simone eyed the coffee cup. Anne-Marie planned on staying a while. She sighed and turned to page nine. Tucked in the corner, amongst a scandalous article about another actress's "Simone-like Spiral of Self-Destruction"—Simone flinched at the title—was a small article titled "Is Simone Farrell making a comeback?" The inset picture showed her with the fling that had destroyed her marriage, and another recent photo of her smiling and waving at the paparazzi on her way into the studio. She skimmed the article. ". . . mysterious trips out of the country . . . ." ". . . sources close to Simone say her attitude has done a complete one-eighty . . . ." ". . . rehab? A new man? " She closed the magazine and pushed it away.

  "The vultures are circling, hon." Anne-Marie leaned against the sink and watched her over her coffee cup. "Whatever it is you're doing, they're going to sniff it out sooner or later."

  Simone glared at her. "Not unless someone 'in the know' lets the cat out of the bag."

  "I'm not going to say a word," Anne-Marie said coldly. "But they're going to figure it out. These guys could find Jimmy Hoffa if it paid as much as chasing after you." She furrowed her brow. "This is more than just a fling, isn't it?"

  "No." Simone avoided her eyes. "It's just a fling."

  "Bullshit."

  "It's just a fling." Simone looked up then. "And it might not last much longer." Anne-Marie's eyes widened. "What?"

  "Why is that any shock? Me? Ending a fling with a guy? What's so shocking about that?"

  "No, it's shocking because I think you're in love with him."

  Simone laughed. "No, I'm not." Liar. She stood and poured herself a cup of coffee, her back turned so Anne-Marie couldn't see how red her cheeks were probably getting.

  "Simone, I know you," Anne-Marie declared. "If you're not in love, then I don't know who is."

  Staring into her coffee cup, Simone didn't turn around. "Why do you say that?"

  "Come on, babe," Anne-Marie said. "The way you smile when you mention him. The way you stare off into space when you don't think anyone is looking. The fact that you are willing to run off to Nowhere, Canada, every other week to see him." Simone's shoulders slumped. "It's the worst possible timing. I shouldn't be doing this."

  Anne-Marie touched her arm. "If you're in love with him, then go with it. You don't need another scandal or an affair, but—" Her voice hardened. "He's not married, is he?"

  Simone laughed in spite of herself. "No. No, he's not married." I don't think he's married. But then, what do I know about him? Not a damn thing? How can I be in love with him? I'm not. I'm not. "I'm not in love with him." Her voice cracked.

  "Yes, you are," Anne-Marie said in that, don't argue with me, I'm right, voice.

  "Look, if you've met someone, and it's more than just a stupid romp, why not go public?

  If you just come clean about it, the paparazzi will find someone else to stalk." Simone turned to face Anne-Marie. "Or they'll stalk us together."

  "Maybe. But that reflects worse on them than it does on you." Anne-Marie shrugged. "Maybe it would do good for your image, some positive publicity for once. This, and the way your film is going right now, maybe you'll be back in Hollywood's good graces sooner rather than later."

  Simone scowled. "I'm not going to use him to get back on the A-list." Anne-Marie's lips parted and she raised a knowing eyebrow. "You must be in love."

  "Why now?"

  Her agent drained her coffee cup and set it in the sink. "Because the Simone I know and love has no qualms about using a man to impress the rest of the world." Before Simone could respond, Anne-Marie flounced out of the trailer. The door slammed just before Simone's jaw snapped shut. She watched her agent through the window for a moment, but didn't follow her. Anne-Marie was right, and Simone's face burned with shame. She had used men in the past: everyone before, after, and including Gregory.

  But not Jason. She wouldn't do that to Jason.

  She absentmindedly let his name slip off her tongue, whispering it into the silence of the trailer, and her heart fluttered. Maybe Anne-Marie was right, and there was only one way to find out.

  She picked up the phone, and called him.

  * * * * *

  The ringing phone startled Jason. He picked it up and cradled it on his shoulder, his hands still moving the mouse and pounding the keyboard.

  "Jason Connor."

  A beat of silence. "Jason, it's Allyson."

  The sound of her voice brought his hands to a halt. He leaned back in his chair.

  "Allyson . . . ." His heart quickened. He couldn't decide if he was angry that she'd waited this long to call, or just giddy with relief that she finally had called.

  "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't call for so long."

  "It's okay. I'm glad you called now."

  "I've been thinking a lot about what you said, before I left." Jason's throat went dry. Here it comes. "Okay . . . ."

  "Things are complicated here now. I mean, I just have a lot going on in my life." His heart sank. Here comes the bombshell. She's married. "I understand." I'm pissed that you led me on, that you used me, but I guess I—

  "I think it would be best to talk more in person."

  "You—what?"

  "Look, I can't promise one way or the other how this is going to go, how I feel. But . . . I just need to see you. Discuss this face to face." So I can see the wedding ring? So you can tell me that it's not me, it's you? Christ, Jason, give her a chance. "Uh, sure. When?"

  She paused. "As soon as possible. My schedule is a bit of a mess right now, but . .

  . ." Another pause. "I'll let you know."

  "Listen," he said. "If you don't want to pursue this, if you just want to let it go, forget it ever happened—"

  "No," she said quickly. "Not at all. I'm just—it's complicated."

  "In my world, that usually means, 'I'm married'." Way to go, idiot. She was silent for a sec
ond. Then she laughed. "Married? Oh God no. No, that's not it at all." She paused again and he could hear her smile fall. "Is that really what you thought?"

  He was glad she couldn't see how red his face undoubtedly was. You're an ass, Jason. A total ass. "No, well, I—I wasn't sure."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have been a bit more open in the beginning. No, I'm not married."

  "I'm sorry, too," he said. "I really shouldn't have been such a dick about it."

  "It's okay." That smile was back. "Really, Jason, I do want to see you again."

  "Just let me know when. I'll be here."

  There was a long pause. Her voice was low when she said, "Just . . . don't think that I balked because I don't have feelings for you too."

  His heart raced. "What do you feel?"

  She sighed. He imagined her rubbing her forehead with her fingertips like she often did. "I'm not sure. I'm just, I don't know. To be honest, I've never felt this way before." She paused. "Just, be patient with me."

  "Take as long as you need." He couldn't help the smile that curled the corner of his mouth. "I'll be here when you're ready to come up, and we'll figure out what the hell it is we're doing."

  "Thank you," she said quietly.

  "I'm glad you called."

  "Me too."

  A few minutes later, they said their goodbyes, and he hung up the phone. He leaned back in his chair, chewing his thumbnail. Relief swept over him, just having heard her voice and reconnected with her, but that apprehensive knot was still there. He stared at the picture on his screen, the one he'd been cropping and touching up—what little it needed—when she called.

  Allyson's face smiled back at him over her bare shoulder.

  He didn't know if this was love, but it was something.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Simone finally managed to wrestle a few free days in her calendar to go to Tofino. In spite of her nerves, she was giddy with excitement as she packed for her trip. She was uneasy about facing him, about discussing where this was all really going, but just the thought of seeing him gave her butterflies.

  She glanced at the clock. Ten thirty. Less than twenty-four hours, and she'd be in his arms again. Whatever came of their conversations, she'd be with him again, and that was more than enough. She shivered with excitement.

  Her cell phone startled her. Gregory's number popped up on the caller ID. She gritted her teeth and flipped it open.

  "Hi, Gregory."

  "Simone." The unsteadiness in his voice sent a chill up her spine. "I need you to take Cecily."

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes. The sooner the better. Now if you can."

  Worry gripped Simone's heart. "What happened? Is she all right?"

  "She's fine," Gregory's voice wavered. "It's Jessica; I'm taking her to the hospital."

  "Oh my God, what's wrong?"

  "I'm, I'm not sure." He exhaled sharply. "Rita's at the house with Cecily right now, but I think she'd be better off with you."

  Simone's eyes flicked to the bag she'd almost finished packing. Disappointment filled her, but she couldn't let Cecily down. She took a breath. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  "Thank you, Simone."

  You owe me, she thought bitterly as she hung up the phone. Instantly she regretted even thinking it. He owed her? Hardly. If anything, she owed him, and this was the very least she could do for him.

  On the way to Gregory's house, she called Jason.

  "Jason, it's Allyson."

  "Hey, beautiful."

  "Look, I have to cancel the trip," she said, trying not to break into tears.

  "Oh."

  "It's a family emergency. I'll—"

  "Shit, what happened?" he asked. "Is everything okay? Is there anything I can—?"

  "No, no, don't worry about it. It's just—" She hesitated. He didn't know about Gregory, Cecily, or anything else in her world. This wasn't the conversation for dropping all those bombs on him, but what to tell him now? She cleared her throat.

  "Just some things I have to take care of." Right. That isn't going to rouse any suspicions. She quickly added," I want to get back up there as soon as possible though." Jason was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was flat. "Okay, well, just let me know if there's anything I can do. Or when you want to come back up."

  "I'm so sorry, Jason."

  "Don't worry about it. Things happen. I understand."

  Her heart ached at the disappointment in his voice. "I want to see you again, though, soon. As soon as all of this blows over."

  "Just let me know. I'll be here."

  She flinched; his voice was taut with skepticism and suspicion. "I'm not sure when yet. A few days. But as soon as I know, I'll let you know. I'm really sorry, I—"

  "It's okay, I understand."

  She wasn't sure he did. He must suspect the worst about me. He already thought she was married, now she was blowing him off with an ambiguous, "family emergency" excuse? "I'll call you."

  "I'll be here."

  His words hung in her ear long after she'd hung up the phone.

  " I'll be here. "

  For the first time, she wondered if he would be.

  * * * * *

  Jason leaned back in his chair. This wasn't good.

  He wanted to trust her. God, how he wanted to believe her when she said she was genuine, that she wasn't keeping some major secret from him. Like a husband. The thought made him flinch.

  Allyson wasn't Paula. She wasn't Paula. He had to remember, she wasn't Paula. But on the other hand, the Paula he thought he knew wasn't—

  Stop it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd have faith in her. He'd wait. He'd see if— when—she called again, and see where things went from there. He sighed. He was setting himself up for another heartbreak. Any man with half a brain would end it now, just call the whole thing off and be done with it. Nip it in the bud. End it before the truth came out. The truth that he would, as always, be the last to know.

  He picked up the phone and pulled up her number. For a long, long time he stared at her name on the glowing LCD screen, his thumb on the send button. He ground his teeth. Do it, Jason, she's not worth it.

  "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He slammed the phone down. Any man with half a brain would end it now, but damn . . . she had a hold on him. And maybe she was telling the truth. Guilt burned in his throat. Emergencies happened. Like the "family emergencies" that kept Paula running out of town every other damned weekend, right? He winced at the memory. She's not Paula, he told himself again. He stared at the phone. No, he would have faith in her.

  God, please don't let me be making a huge mistake . . . .

  * * * * *

  Simone and Cecily rode in silence for a long time on the way back to her place. The girl's eyes were red with tears and her mouth turned down with worry. At a stoplight, Simone chewed her lip and watched her daughter in the rearview. Her heart raced. This is where I'm supposed to be a mother, damn it, she thought. I'm supposed to give her comfort, tell her it's going to be okay, do something. But I don't even know where to start.

  She tried to push Jason out of her mind. Guilt gnawed at her—not to mention that maddening ache that only he could satisfy—but she had to put him second right now.

  "Are you okay, sweetie?" she said finally.

  Cecily looked up, as if startled to hear her mother speak. "I guess so." She bit her lower lip. "Is Jessie's baby going to be okay?"

  Oh shit. What am I supposed to say? My God, what am I supposed to do? "I hope so, baby," she said finally. What else could she say? Her palms were sweaty against the steering wheel. She didn't know what else to say. They drove in silence for a while. Out of nowhere, Cecily said, "Why have you been gone so much?"

  Simone blinked. She glanced in the rearview and found herself staring her daughter right in the eye. The steely, accusing tone in Cecily's voice startled her. "I've, I've just been trying to—" Oh hell, how do you explain something like that to an ei
ght-year-old child? Mommy's been trying to stop drinking and is spending all her time fucking some stranger up in Canada?

  "Do you have a boyfriend?"

  Ouch. Even Cecily had caught on. It wasn't like she hadn't seen Simone in a rash of messy relationships; she must have known the signs, even if this one was different from all the rest. Then again, her latest was always different from all the rest, so—

  "Mommy?"

  "I'm just trying to sort some things out, baby," she said finally. She took a breath.

  "You know how I always tell you to treat everyone else like you want to be treated?"

  "Yes."

  "Never to lie to people, or hurt people?"

  "Yes."

  Simone swallowed a lump in her throat. "Mommy hasn't been very good about that. I've been bad to a lot of people, and I'm trying to fix that. I don't want to be like that anymore."

  "You've been in jail?"

  Simone laughed aloud. "Oh God no, not in jail. Just—just spending time alone, sorting some things out." Right. Because an eight-year-old understands this sort of thing.

  "Did I do something wrong?"

  "What? Oh my God, baby, no, not at all." She looked in the rearview again and met Cecily's eyes. She took a breath. "It has nothing to do with you. I promise."

  "So you don't have a boyfriend?"

  Shit. What am I supposed to do? Keep lying to her? Lie to her like I've been lying to everyone else? What's one more lie in this tangled web of bullshit I've been feeding everyone?

  Fuck. "No, baby, no boyfriend."

  Cecily accepted that, but the knot of guilt grew in Simone's gut. She felt like shit now. It was one thing to lie to Anne-Marie, and Gregory, and Carolyn. It was even one thing to lie to Jason, as much as it killed her to do it. But lying to Cecily about it, that was just too much for her to take. She'd done more than enough of that over the years, but she had promised herself she would change. Lying to her daughter was nothing if not counterproductive.