Hollywood Nights

by Sara Celi

  “This is…”—she swallowed—“the nicest hotel I have ever stayed in.”

  “The lodge has fifteen rooms,” I said. “Most of them are the same as this one. Breakfast is tomorrow from seven to nine. I figure we’ll leave around eight?”

  Brynn filed into the room behind me and placed her black purse on the bed, one I was pretty sure she’d purchased during her trip to Barneys. I looked one more time at the bag’s heavy hardware and crisp black leather. I would have bought her ten of them if it made her happy, and the realization made me shiver.

  Keep it business… keep it business…

  “You should have everything you need.” I turned away and busied myself, opening the closed door to show her the bathrobe, flipping on the light in the bathroom, and telling her where to find towels and how to call the front desk if she wanted anything overnight. “We have room service until midnight if you need something after dinner, and all you need to do is call—”

  Her laughter made me stop talking.

  “What?” I turned my head and hung up the house phone’s handset.

  “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Brynn leaned against the TV console. “Why?”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  She jerked her chin in the direction of my hand. “Your hands are shaking.”

  Goddamn it. I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “Just want to make sure you’re comfortable here tonight.”

  Her hand made a sweeping gesture. “How could I not be?”

  “The thing is…” I cleared my throat. What did I want to tell her? How the light from the window danced through her hair and made it look like it was on fire? That she had somehow become more gorgeous in one day? That I already wanted to change the contract—I didn’t care about it anymore?

  “I have an idea.” She crossed her arms and one side of her mouth turned upward. “Tell me your most embarrassing moment from your childhood, Tanner.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You can’t be all perfect, Mr. Big Time.” She still smiled. “You heard me. Tell me your most embarrassing moment. Now.”

  Brynn crossed the room and sat down on the overstuffed armchair in front of the window. The light streaked through the soft tendrils of her hair further, and I sat down on the bed.

  “We did this in an acting class I took once, back when I first got out to LA,” she said. “It’s supposed to make people feel more at ease with each other. Make us more real.” A shrug. “So, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  “I’m listening,” I said, managing to ignore my hard-on, which tightened with every second we sat in this room together. “You go first.”

  “This is a pretty easy one.” Brynn’s gaze drifted away to a spot the cream wall for a moment. “When I was a sophomore in high school, I was a pretty huge klutz. Always breaking things. I was also one of those drama geeks.” She turned back to me, and I saw a hint of blush cross her cheeks. “Always in the plays at Griffin High. Always wanting the main parts. Never got one.” She waved her hand. “So we’re doing Anything Goes, and I’m one of the chorus girls. Three days or so before opening night, I cross the stage in these heels during rehearsal.” She laughed to herself and looked down at her hands. “And I tripped on a cord for the lights. It was supposed to be taped down across the whole stage, but it wasn’t in that area.” A pause. “I ended up breaking half of the set.”

  “The whole thing?”

  A nod. “It all came crashing down when my foot yanked the cord. The lights, the scaffolding, everything. Right in front of the director, and the seniors, and everyone else. Maybe a hundred people.” She smiled. “I was mortified. Totally. They never let me live that down. Ever.” She laughed, and I took it as permission to laugh, too.

  “I’m getting this vision of this happening,” I said. “Like one of those bad sitcoms. Maybe you should have gone into comedy?”

  Her laugh grew a little louder, and I loved it. I wanted to hear more of the round, full sound. This woman should never be unhappy. Never. She should always be at ease, and always laughing. Always.

  “They never expected I would make it out here,” she said. “All my classmates told me I was crazy. I wasn’t a good actress back then, I promise. Totally overdramatic. The only person who encouraged me to follow my Hollywood dream was my dad. He might have been a drunk, but at least he believed in me.”

  “Did you believe in yourself?”

  “I did before I got out here. Stubborn enough to think I could prove them all wrong.” She crossed her legs and changed positions in the chair. “But it’s gotten harder and harder as the months have gone by.”

  I nodded, and we fell silent for a long time.

  “Anyway,” she finally said, and clapped her hands. “I’ve told you mine, so you have to tell me yours.”

  “It’s not nearly as good as your story.” My eyebrow arched. “Yours puts mine to shame, Miss Hollywood.”

  “Miss Hollywood? My new nickname?”

  I nodded. “If I get a nickname, then you do, too. So Miss Hollywood it is. You like it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But you’re not getting out of this by making it all about me. We have a deal, and I still want to hear your story.”

  “All right, you asked for it.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Junior year of high school, I worked up all the courage I had to ask this one girl, Natalie, out to prom. I was still the new kid in school, though our family moved down here when I was in the eighth grade. Not a lot of new kids around here, if you get what I mean.” I shrugged. “Anyway, I asked Natalie to prom at the lockers one morning right before second period, and she told me to meet her after our class at the auditorium so she could give me her answer.” I spread my hands. “Needless to say, this little piece of information had the whole day to get around school. It was all I heard about.”

  Brynn nodded as I spoke, her attention never wavering from me.

  “So of course, last period comes, and she’s not there. She never showed up.” I stopped speaking and swallowed, the memory still raw on my tongue. “But a couple of seniors did, including the guy who’d been dating Natalie for a couple of months. They made sure I didn’t ask her out ever again.” I shrugged a shoulder. “You know, the class nerd isn’t a huge match for the guys on the football team. Doesn’t help if half of the school is there.”

  When I looked up again, Brynn still stared at me.

  “What?” I said. “You asked.”

  “I can’t see you as the school nerd,” she said softly. “You’re nothing like that now.”

  “Call me a late bloomer. Everyone has their time.” I leaned backward on the bed, still focusing on her. “I guess this is mine.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “When I stop and think about it, that’s probably what drove me to Hollywood in the first place. I had something to prove, and I thought I’d prove it here.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” she said.

  And there, in room 236 of my parents’ lodge, we fell into a comfortable silence. I could have sat there for hours saying nothing, and still been content.

  Even the happiest moments with Lana hadn’t been that good.

  What the fuck was happening to me?

  A week passed. Then another. And a third. We fell into a routine of sorts—a small one. He went to meetings and scheduled lunches while I focused on jumpstarting my own career. Most days, we made sure to do something with each other to attract the photographers; one time we had lunch in the middle of Griffith Park, a few mornings a week we took spinning classes together at SoulCycle Beverly Hills, and one night we ate a late dinner at Mr. Chow that came with paparazzi for dessert. Every day, over breakfast, we scoured the Internet and watched the swell about our relationship grow.

  It started to work.

  The fact was, people had already wanted to read whatever gossip they could about Lana and Tanner. Adding me into the mix made the stories juicier. During the last fourteen days, I’d read on
line articles about our “new love,” how I was “helping him move on,” and about Lana’s “jealous rage” at a boutique on Robertson. I found bloggers who dissected my street style, comments about my fashion choices versus Lana’s, and Pinterest boards pinned with photos of me. A few articles put my name out there for upcoming parts in major movies, like the role of Wonder Woman in a reboot of the franchise, and in the movie adaptation of the best-selling book Grayson’s Vow.

  Almost a month into our arrangement, Andrea Kane, my agent, demanded I get lunch with her at Godfrey’s Malibu Bistro. Andrea had represented me for almost four years, but she’d never spent more than fifteen minutes of her time with me.

  Things had changed. Big time.

  “You’re looking good. Trim,” Andrea said over the rim of her glasses as we waited for our lunch at an outdoor table with a view of the Pacific Ocean.

  I blinked at her for a moment. I couldn’t remember the last time Andrea had seen me in person. “Thanks.”

  “SoulCycle seems to agree with you.”

  “So does Tanner.”

  “Tanner Vance and Brynn Price. Most intriguing couple of the year.”

  I sipped some of my sparking water and tried to hide a smile. I wanted to be cool and collected in front of everyone, especially Andrea. She had the studied elegance of a high-powered woman who always got what she wanted. I needed some of her mojo to rub off on me. “I don’t know. That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

  “That’s what the cover of Chat magazine is going to call you all when their new issue hits newsstands in two days. One of their reporters called our office for a background source—someone to give them an anonymous quote about how happy you all are together, and how much Tanner dotes on you.”

  “And you gave them one?”

  Andrea shrugged.

  “So you made something up.”

  “These things tend to have a formula.” Andrea downed some sparkling water and readjusted her large black sunglasses. “We don’t have to think hard when it comes to giving the press what it wants.” A pause. “And what it wants is young love. Feed the beast, darling, and you’ll stay happy, too.”

  “I still can’t believe we’re dating. It’s like a dream,” I said, reciting some of the phrases I’d rehearsed on the drive over to the restaurant. “Really, he’s the best thing that has happened to me since I moved out here.” Then I blushed on cue and turned my attention to the ocean. “But it goes to show, you find someone when you least expect it. I’m so lucky.”

  Andrea clicked her tongue. “He’s lucky, also, so don’t let him forget it. Girl like you—much simpler than that overexposed love life he had before.”

  “Yesterday I saw a post on Chat’s website comparing my ‘California style’ to Lana’s. All made up. Totally random. And of course they picked Lana.”

  “Pfft.” Andrea narrowed her eyes at something off in the distance. “I have to say, I never considered Lana any good for Tanner, or his career. She has a way of”—her attention floated back to me—“taking up the whole room.” She paused. “Whatever. Back to the two of you. You’re going out with him again tonight?”

  I nodded. Tanner had two tickets to the premiere of Deceived Love, a psychological thriller getting tons of Oscar buzz. Tanner had told me plenty about what to expect. We’d walk a red carpet full of Hollywood’s hottest celebrities, I’d stand by him while he did interviews with media types, and we’d pose for some more photos. We could never take enough of those; people always seemed to want more. He’d sign autographs for fans behind a rope line. I’d make sure to smile the entire time. Tomorrow, we’d wake up and check the Internet to see how much of an impression we’d made.

  “We’re going to Deceived Love’s premiere,” I told Andrea.

  She gave me a slow nod. “Good deal, darling. That brings me to the point of this luncheon, and why I wanted to talk with you.”

  “I figured there had to be a reason.”

  “What? I can’t have lunch with my favorite client?” Andrea laughed once, as if she realized the absurdity of her comment, and then tapped her glossy, red-painted fingernails on the table. “Shortly after my assistant talked with the reporter, I rang Tanner’s publicist.”

  “Kenneth? You called him?”

  “Of course I did, darling. What kind of agent would I be if I didn’t?”

  We hadn’t met, but Kenneth and I had spoken on the phone, and Tanner took plenty of regular calls, texts, e-mails, and Snapchats from the guy. If he hadn’t been an employee, I would have called Kenneth one of Tanner’s best friends. In fact, that was one of the sad things about Tanner I had noticed since I’d met him. He had a lot of acquaintances, but few real friends. Seemed like such a lonely life.

  I could empathize.

  “Kenneth and I talked about—”

  “Two salads with extra vinaigrette?” A tan server with curly black hair arrived at the table with our orders. As she dropped them off, her hands shook, and she stared at me, her eyes wide.

  A small smile crept across Andrea’s face. “May I help you?”

  The server jumped. “Oh it’s just—”

  Andrea’s eyebrow lifted. “Go ahead, darling, don’t be shy.”

  The server turned back to me. “We’re not supposed to ask these things but—are you—are you dating Tanner Vance?”

  I looked from the server to Andrea, and back again. “Yes, I am.”

  “I thought that was you.” She grinned, then glanced behind her as if to make sure no one would overhear. “Oh my God, I hope you know you are seriously so lucky.”

  I leaned across the table and tilted my head. “I think he’s the lucky one.”

  The three of us laughed, and once the server walked away from us, Andrea raised her wineglass. “Well done.”

  “Thanks.”

  We both ate a few delicious bites in satisfied silence. I didn’t know if I would ever get used to lunches like this, one of the many changes that had happened since making the agreement with Tanner. Before I met him, I didn’t have enough extra money to buy a drink at the bar of Godfrey’s, much less the confidence to eat there like I owned the place. Now, the staff gave us immaculate service, I had more than enough money to pay for twenty-two dollar salads and twelve-dollar glasses of white wine, and I got a center table with a view of the Pacific Ocean by glancing at the hostess.

  But that didn’t mean it felt normal.

  I shoved a bite of salad in my mouth. Then another. And another. Soon, Andrea restarted our conversation.

  “What I wanted to say earlier is Kenneth had a few ideas he wanted to pitch my way about you all a couple.”

  “Like what?” I kept my expression unreadable as I ate another a big bite of lettuce, carrots, raisins, and shrimp.

  “He’s interested in floating the idea of a few projects with the two of you together,” Andrea said, between bites of her own salad. “Even a reality show, all clean of course, to show Tanner’s softer side as your relationship heats up.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course I told him I don’t think Tanner needs that, and neither do you. There will be plenty of jobs—quality jobs—coming your way, I promise.” Andrea waved the hand holding her fork. “This week, I’ve taken a few calls about some leads, and if a few of them work out, it’s going to be good.” A pause and a swallow. “I don’t want to elaborate until things have shaken out. But anyway, back to Kenneth—he for sure wants to set you up with the folks from Rockchick. Editorial, of course. Something shareable. Edgy.”

  I dropped my fork and it clanged against my plate loud enough to make the woman seated at the nearest table look over at us. “What? Rockchick? The magazine?”

  “That’s the one.” Andrea kept her expression stoic, as if I should have expected this. “It’s for online, of course, not print, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a good thing. They want to do a photo shoot for their website and an interview in a few weeks.”

  “I’ll do it.” This answer didn’t require any further t
hought.

  “Good girl. Now, is there anything you can think of I need to know about? Anything I need to know before things heat up for you?”

  I hesitated. “No.”

  “All right.” Andrea’s eyebrow lifted. “You sound shocked about this opportunity, darling.”

  “I am.”

  “Don’t be. And I love this part.” Andrea leaned across the table, and another grin pulled at the corners of her mouth, one I knew had been sculpted by the best doctors in Beverly Hills. “This moment won’t last long, so try to remember how you feel right now. This moment. You’re on the edge. You’re going from a nobody to a somebody. This is where the game turns.”

  Andrea’s words stayed with me, and I thought about them later as Patricia, Kenneth’s favorite hairstylist, wound sections of my hair over the barrel of a curling iron. A nobody into a somebody.

  It had sure started to feel that way.

  “Turn your head,” Patricia said. She picked up another section of hair, and I watched her admire her handiwork through the mirror. She’d already done my makeup, and she had a few more steps to go with my unruly hair. “This is fantastic. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  I glanced down at my watch. “The car will be here in a half hour.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be ready.”

  I picked up the latest copy of Town & Country from my lap and leafed through the glossy pages as I wondered about Tanner. When Patricia had arrived at his house, he gave her instructions, and me a knowing smile before he disappeared upstairs to take a shower and get ready himself. Patricia had then followed me out to the pool house, ordered me to sit in one of the dining table chairs, thrown a black cotton cape over me, and got to work.

  “How many of these home visits do you do every month for clients?” I said to her when the magazine bored me again.

  “Hmm.” She popped her gum. “For movie premieres? Maybe three. Sometimes five. Depends on the time of year.” Patricia fluffed my hair. “That doesn’t include the charity dinners and kids’ birthday parties. The worst ones are the sweet sixteens.”