The actors were still bowing when Hugh seized her wrist midclap. “I’ve arranged for us to go backstage, so we need to leave now.”
Sure enough, the usher was hovering near the box door when Hugh opened it. She led them to the same secret elevator and sent them back down into the bowels of the building, where another escort took over. By the time their companion said, “In here,” and pulled open yet another door, Jessica had no idea where she was in relationship to the stage. “It’s Ms. Jocanda’s dressing room,” the stagehand said, standing aside to let them pass. “She said to treat it like your own.” He closed the door behind him.
“Wow! Rose Jocanda offered you her dressing room.” The British actress was the top marquee name in the play. Famous for her versatility and ability to convert quirky roles into star turns, she had won a couple of Oscars and earned several Tony nominations. “I guess it would be uncool to ask for a selfie with her.”
“Ask away,” Hugh said. “She’s used to it.”
Jessica looked around the small, tidy room. The most prominent feature was a large mirror framed by lightbulbs hung over a Formica countertop loaded with cosmetics and a couple of wig stands. A rolling rack filled with colorful costumes stood against one wall, while a small sofa spanned the other. On the table in front of it, a vase of yellow roses added an extra pop of color.
“It looks just like I imagined a theatrical dressing room would,” Jessica said. “Only neater.”
Hugh sat down on the sofa. “Rosie’s famous for her tidiness. She says it’s too unsettling to have things jumbled up in her private space.”
Jessica was fascinated by this glimpse into the actress’s psyche. “What else does she say?”
“About what?” Hugh patted the cushion beside him.
“Anything.” Jessica sank down beside him. “Acting.”
“Acting? I’m not sure I’ve ever talked with her about it. I can tell you about the time we finished shooting a scene and decided to go swimming in—”
The door flew open, and Rose Jocanda strode in, yanking her blonde wig off as she walked. She perched it on one of the empty stands and turned, her dark hair still pinned flat to her scalp. “I had to get that dreadful, itchy thing off my head.” She held out her arms as Hugh and Jessica rose. “Hugh, love! So good to see you!”
Jessica watched in awed bemusement as the actress threw her arms around Hugh and kissed him soundly on the lips, leaving a smear of her vivid red lipstick on his skin. As soon as she released him, Rose reached up to scrub it off with her thumb. “Don’t want to make your lovely companion jealous,” she said before offering her hand to Jessica. “And you are a talented veterinarian, Hugh tells me.”
The actress had the same crackling, larger-than-life aura Hugh did, only hers was quintessentially feminine. Even the weirdly exaggerated stage makeup couldn’t overwhelm the woman’s delicate bone structure or the intelligence shining in her green eyes.
“Yes, I’m Jessica Quillen, and I’m a vet,” Jessica said, shaking hands. “You were amazing in the play. But you’re incredible in every role. I’m a great admirer of yours.”
“You know, people think we get tired of hearing that, but we never do. Thank you so much,” Rose said with such utter sincerity that Jessica almost believed her. “Let me fluff my hair and then we’ll snap a photo with you and Hugh. I can’t resist a selfie.”
Hugh threw Jessica an “I told you so” look.
“She’s only including me because we’re a package deal tonight,” Jessica muttered while Rose returned her hair to a cascade of glossy waves.
“There.” The actress put down her brush, checked her makeup, and picked up a cell phone from the countertop. “Hugh in the middle so we’re the bookends.” Rose arranged them and held the phone high. “Always shoot down to hide the chin sag.”
After taking several photos, she tapped away at her phone.
“You’re posting it on social media, aren’t you?” Hugh’s tone was indulgent, though.
“Hell, yes,” Rose said. “Me with the fabulous Hugh Baker’s arm around me? That’s an event to be shared. And I sent you a copy, too, so you can share it with Jessica, who can digitally cut me right out of the picture.” She winked.
“You were brilliant in the scene with Frederick,” Hugh said. “You gave us that tiny, first glimpse of the anguish beneath the steel, just enough to make your ultimate unraveling entirely believable. Well done.”
Rose lit up at Hugh’s words. “I kept overplaying that scene at first, but I pulled back a little bit more every performance until I felt it was tightly coiled enough to explode at the end.” She cupped Hugh’s cheek. “You can always put your finger on the key moment. It’s a great gift to hear I did it right.”
This time Jessica believed Rose meant her gratitude. That an actress who played Shakespeare and Ibsen valued Hugh’s compliment on her performance opened her eyes to another side of him. She’d been focused on his celebrity, not on his talent. Rose reminded her that Hugh had worked hard to hone his acting skills when they’d been together, studying great performances in movies, attending plays to absorb live theater, taking lessons from acting coaches he admired. Tonight, during the first act, he’d demonstrated that he was still upping his game.
“I mustn’t monopolize you,” Rose said, checking her hair in the mirror again. “The whole cast is dying to see you. And of course to meet your charming friend.”
She led them out the door and down a narrow hallway to a lounge packed with people talking and taking photos with their cell phones.
“Darlings, I’ve brought Hugh Baker,” Rose said in a voice that silenced the buzz of conversation. “And his friend Jessica.”
Jessica had to give Rose credit for introducing her when she was clearly an afterthought. Although she would have been just as happy to fade into the background in order to observe Hugh in his element.
“Oh my God, Hugh Baker!” Dorian Greer, the young actor who had been given the lead over more prominent candidates, raced up and pumped Hugh’s hand. He bestowed a sweet smile on Jessica before turning to the room. “This man is the reason I am standing in this place with all of you. He championed me for the role and supported me through all the auditions. I owe him my career.”
Jessica sensed Hugh’s discomfort in the tightening of his grip on her hand and his subtle shift to move her slightly in front of him.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hugh said with a smile. “Your career is up to you and your talent, which you have in abundance.”
It was interesting that Hugh had told her how terrific the young man was in his role without mentioning that he had been involved in getting Dorian the part.
“All right, I will take the hint.” Dorian flung up one hand. “No more public gratitude, but it will always be here.” He touched his chest over his heart with a graceful gesture.
After that, a parade of people came up to greet Hugh. Some were clearly old friends, some were awestruck, some were fawning, but everyone treated him as though he were a visiting monarch. And he played the role well, responding with graciousness, encouragement, and courtesy, yet he was always cloaked in that impenetrable detachment that Jessica knew all too well. Only with Rose and Dorian did he let down his guard.
Jessica was introduced to all the actors and included in several selfies with Hugh. She finally excused herself from further photos since she knew that no one, except possibly Hugh, wanted her there. Besides, it was entertaining to watch her sometimes irascible ex-fiancé pose with a smile on his face that she suspected was entirely false.
When they began passing around glasses of wine, Hugh leaned down to murmur in Jessica’s ear, “Theater wine is god-awful. Let’s go find some good stuff to drink.”
“I don’t want to take you away from your friends,” she said.
“I’m having dinner with Rose and her husband next week, so we can catch up then.” He started down the hallway.
“She’s far from your only friend in t
he room,” Jessica said, letting him pull her along with him. “In fact, I’d say you have at least fifty.”
Hugh threw her an irritated look and kept walking.
“Okay, so they were mostly people who wanted to say they’d met Hugh Baker, but you must like some of them. By the way, why didn’t you tell me you’d helped Dorian get the part?”
Hugh halted at a spot where two corridors intersected, glancing right and left. “It’s a damned rabbit warren down here.”
“Go right. I remember that weird pipe hanging down.”
Hugh made the turn down the hallway. “He exaggerated. I was impressed with his performance in a play in LA and hooked him up with a hungry junior agent. When this part came up, I put in a good word for him with the director. Nothing heroic.”
“Maybe not heroic, but generous.”
“If I can’t use my influence to help talent find its audience, what’s the point?”
“Some people might consider Dorian competition.”
Hugh kept walking. “If he’s better than I am, he deserves the part.” His tone turned cynical. “I don’t worry much about talented actors. It’s the famous ones who could take the plum roles away from me.”
“No one’s more famous than you are.”
“The public is fickle.” By some miracle, they had arrived at the elevator, and Hugh pushed the call button. “I’m not getting younger, whereas Julian Best never ages.”
“They wouldn’t dare replace you as Julian!”
“They can and they will, as soon as I cross whatever invisible line the producers decide is too old to appeal to the broadest demographic.”
The elevator door glided open, and they squeezed into the small space together. Hugh slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side.
“Does that bother you?” Jessica asked, trying not to be sidetracked by the feel of his body pressed to hers.
“Sometimes. And other times I almost wish they would find another Julian. Thank God Gavin allows Julian to grow and change in his books or I might die of boredom.”
“Is that why you’ve never done Broadway? Because you would play the same role night after night?”
The elevator doors opened, and he moved them forward just enough to step out into the hallway. “My agent tells me I can’t afford to do Broadway.”
“You would have been terrific as Finn in this play,” she said as they walked toward the door.
“Julian always takes precedence.” His voice held the tiniest edge of regret. Pulling out his fancy phone, he tapped at the screen and waited for a returning ping. “The sedan is right out front.” He took her hand. “Ready to make a run for it?”
Jessica felt like the heroine in one of Hugh’s movies as he threw open the door and pulled her along with him at a jog. Despite the unassuming dark sedan, two photographers lay in wait, shouting as they ran beside Jessica and Hugh, cameras flashing. Hugh ignored them, heading straight for the car without breaking stride.
The chauffeur had the back door open, so Hugh helped Jessica scoot onto the back seat before joining her. The door slammed shut, but the photographers kept shooting through the window until the driver pulled away from the curb.
“Wow! That was weird.” Jessica blinked several times to clear the flash from her eyes.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” Hugh’s voice was tight with fury. “Those were bottom feeders. The real pros don’t bother me without my permission, because they know they’ll get more access that way.”
“You can’t control what other people do,” she said.
“You’d be surprised what you can control.” He sounded hard and jaded, but then his voice shifted to a purring rumble. “Can I tempt you back to the hotel room?”
“Twice wasn’t enough?” she said, even as flickers of heat licked along her nerves.
He lifted her hair to kiss the side of her neck so his breath grazed her ear when he spoke. “Never enough when it comes to you.”
Arousal shuddered through her. Shaking her head was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
To her surprise, he kissed her again but leaned back against the seat. “As do I.” He gave the driver Jessica’s address.
“And you have to worry about how you look for the cameras.” No one cared if she had bags under her eyes, but for Hugh it was a different story.
“Meryl assures me that exhaustion makes Julian look all the more authentic.” He gave her a whimsical smile.
A spear of jealousy sank itself into her chest. “Did she really notice that you looked tired? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I used it as an excuse to avoid her plan to sightsee around Boston.”
“You didn’t want to see the Old North Church, where Paul Revere hung his lanterns? It’s very historic.”
“If you’d be my tour guide, I would happily view it.”
Jessica couldn’t stop a satisfied smile from curling her lips. “We could visit Plimoth Plantation, too, and see how the Pilgrims lived.”
“I draw the line at bad actors pretending to be—” Jessica’s cell phone emitted an electronic claxon that made Hugh flinch. “What the hell is that?”
She was already yanking it out of her bag. “A medical emergency. I have to call my service. Can you ask the driver to head for the clinic?”
She hit the speed dial for her answering service to find out that a cat she’d spayed the day before had ripped out her stitches and was bleeding from the wound. She told the owners to meet her at the clinic so she could resuture the incision.
“What’s the problem?” Hugh asked.
“The main one? Cats are jerks,” she said with a laugh before she explained the issue. “Now I’ve got to decide which one of my vet techs to roust out of bed to assist.”
“Does it require a trained professional or just an extra set of hands?” He held up his hands like a surgeon who’d just scrubbed in.
“You want to help with cat surgery? This isn’t like playing a doctor in a movie. It involves real blood and guts. Well, hopefully not guts, unless the problem is worse than I think it is.” She scrolled down to Caleb’s number.
“You know I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.” He sounded pissed off and something else. Insulted? Hurt?
She lowered her phone. A willing helper was all she needed. “Since I know you can take direction, I will accept your generous offer. Caleb will be grateful, since you’ve saved him a midnight trip to the clinic.”
He nodded, and she caught the look of satisfaction on his face in the glow of the streetlights. “How do you know I can take direction?”
“Because your appearance at the clinic made an impression on Carla. She’s been reading up on you—and sharing it with me.” Jessica had listened, fascinated by the information her office manager had tracked down on the internet.
“My apologies.”
“No, it makes for very entertaining lunch conversation, especially when it’s contradictory. One question I could lay to rest for her was whether you are gay or not. Of course, I couldn’t rule out bi.”
Hugh snorted out a laugh. “That was from years ago. I can’t remember how that rumor got started.”
“Well, it seemed at direct odds with the orgy of supermodels you supposedly participated in at some Las Vegas hotel. Although I suppose some of the supermodels could have been guys.” She chuckled. “As far as I can tell, the only thing you haven’t done is been kidnapped by aliens.”
He didn’t laugh this time. “That doesn’t happen anymore, Jess, I swear. The PR people at my agency are very savvy. They make sure none of the gossip rags steps over the line with any really libelous stories.”
“I didn’t believe any of it,” Jessica said, surprised at his intensity. “I know it’s just made up to sell papers.”
“It’s foul and unsavory. I don’t blame you for not wanting to be dragged through the mud like that.”
She realized that he was thinking about th
eir past together. “That wasn’t why I—”
The car came to a stop and the driver interrupted her. “We’re here.”
Chapter 14
Shareena and Cornell Adams stood in front of the clinic, peering hopefully at the sedan. Jessica swung her door open before the driver could get to it. “How’s Zora doing?”
Cornell lifted the cat carrier he held, from which loud meows issued. “She’s not bleeding so bad now, but she isn’t happy.”
“Her complaining’s got nothing to do with the stitches,” Shareena said. “She just hates being in that case. We probably should have kept her in there tonight, but you can hear how she feels about being shut up. I thought she’d just settle down and sleep with us on the bed, but she woke up and got to jumping around. I heard her and saw the blood and bruises on her little belly. I feel so bad about that.”
Cornell put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “You can’t stop Zora from being who she is, a high-energy little kitty.”
Hugh had come around the car to join the group. “This is Hugh Baker,” Jessica said. “Hugh, Shareena and Cornell Adams, the parents of our patient, Zora.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Hugh held out his hand, but it took a drawn-out moment for Shareena to stop staring long enough to shake it.
“You’re famous. From the spy movies,” she said before turning to her husband. “Cornell, you love those.”
“Sure do,” he said, releasing his wife to give Hugh’s hand a hearty shake. “I can’t wait for the next one. It’s been a while.”
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Hugh said. “I’m in New York because we’re shooting it right now.”
“I like them, too,” Shareena said, “but Cornell’s a real fanatic. He knows the dates they were released and everything.”
Jessica had been listening with half an ear as she unlocked the metal screen that stretched across the whole storefront of the clinic and stooped to lift it.
“Let me do that.” Hugh’s voice came from right behind her as he reached down to grip the handle. She stood back and admired the way his lean body straightened in one smooth motion, taking the heavy screen upward with him.
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