by Box Set
Greg turned to see what made her react like that, and he noticed a guy with a camera and three or four people taking photos with their phones. Something turned in his stomach as he looked back at Sylvia, who was biting her lip again, her previous excitement gone.
"I'm sorry, I know that's the point, but I…" She sighed. "I forgot."
He smiled at her, leaning a bit closer over the table. "I forgot, too. And don't worry, your reactions are fine. If it were…" He couldn't quite push the word “real” out of his mouth, so he changed the course. "We're supposed to be natural, and this is what’s natural. I'm not going to smile and wave at them—that's not who I am, either."
When he smiled, she answered in kind, even if hers was a bit shaky.
"You were telling me about the vlog," he said, trying to distract her from the onlookers.
"Actually, I was trying not to ask about the elephant in the room," she admitted.
He frowned. "Elephant in the room?" Their situation was so bizarre, he didn't know what she was referring to, exactly.
She tilted her head in a gesture of obvious disbelief. "Your new project. The one you've come to New York for."
Oh. Right. He looked down at his half-empty plate. "I'm sorry, but I can't talk about it. I know we have a NDA, but I have a different one, too, and it’s…complicated.” He tried to hold his grimace back.
"I get it. That's why I was trying not to ask." She glanced down for a second before lifting her head to meet his gaze again. "Can you tell me what made you do it, at least? Without giving me any details?"
"My friend has been trying to drag me here for years now." Greg smiled at the memory of various projects Charlie had wanted to pull him into. "And I wanted to, but every time, the details didn't come through—either the people, the scheduling, or the project itself. But last year, I started to think about it more and more.”
He’d wanted a new challenge and a break. He and Janice, his co-star in the last Collectibles movie, had decided to split after dating for a few months, and while it was amicable for the both of them, it seemed to infuriate Marlow, who thought their relationship was marketing gold. If the man had hated him before for no reason Greg could figure out, after the split he finally had one. But Greg had had enough of the guy’s growing pettiness at that point.
“Then this project came along, and I jumped at the opportunity,” he continued out loud. “This time, everything came together nicely, even it was a hard battle with the studio."
"Until the fiasco last night," Sylvia added quietly, and he nodded.
A second later, his phone started ringing, and when he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID, he winced. Speak of the devil. It was Michael Lee, his go-to person at Dot Entertainment. Greg excused himself from the table and went to the bathroom to take the call. When the door closed behind him, he took a deep breath and swiped to answer.
Chapter Five
Sylvia watched Greg go and curled both hands over her almost empty glass of juice. The phone call broke their cozy little bubble, and now the reality hit her once again. When she braved a glance through the window, the guy with the big camera was still on the other side of the street, and there were a few different people with their cell phones out.
Great.
She let her hair fall onto her face. She knew being photographed was the plan—knew it was what they were counting on—but it was still hard not to jump out of her seat and run away to hide. And now that she was here alone, it seemed even more difficult than before.
To distract herself, she pulled out her own phone. There were a bunch of texts and a few calls, and Sylvia realized she had forgotten to turn the sound in her phone back on this morning when she woke up. Judging from the number of the notifications, she could guess the story had broken, but she decided not to check what it turned out being. She would learn all about it when they got to the office.
Or when Greg came back to the table.
Sylvia glanced at the bathroom door. She hoped it wouldn't be bad news. And sure, a part of it was her own desire to see him on stage, but she also wanted it for Greg. It was important to him, if the way he smiled as he talked about it was any indication, and she could understand that. She knew how it felt to try to do something for herself against other people’s opinions.
She would agree to much more than pretend dating to help make it work for Greg.
That was a realization that needed a close inspection—and possibly a lot of denial—but for now, she had to push it aside for later, since her phone vibrated in her hand. Nate was calling.
"Hello, big brother." She tried to put as much cheerfulness in her voice as possible, but she winced at the results.
"Hey. You still suck at acting, so don’t bother," Nate told her dryly.
"Shut up. I'm playing the role of my life right now." Sylvia glanced at the bathroom door. Still nothing.
"Yeah, I'm sure playing Greg Abrams’s girlfriend is a hardship."
Nate got her there.
"Listen,” he went on, dropping the teasing, “the photos are out, but it's not as bad as it could’ve been. In print, it's out in Seen Out, and online sites are picking it up, but Kevin has already found a few amateur photos of your breakfast date, too, so it's going well."
"Already?" Sylvia glanced through the window. The paparazzo was gone, and only a couple of teenage girls were still standing on the other side of the street, staring at her without shame. Their phones were pointed right in her direction, and the girls were probably waiting for Greg to reappear.
"Social media is both the cure and the cause of a lot of problems of today's world.” Nate’s dry tone in her ear stopped her from getting anxious again. "Let’s be glad it's on our side for now."
Sylvia sighed. "I’ll take it."
"How's Greg?"
She stared at the bathroom door, willing it to open and dreading it at the same time. "Went to take the call a few minutes ago and hasn’t come back yet. What do we do if they tell him to return to L.A.?"
"Don't stress over it right now. They shouldn't make any sudden decisions. They’re well aware that if he ran back home now, it would look worse. That's not what they want. If they care about his reputation backfiring at them at all and the whole thing isn’t just a power play, of course.”
If. Sylvia didn’t like the alternative. Greg mentioned someone having it out for him, but it couldn’t be this bad, could it?
“They should have no problems buying the girlfriend story,” Nate continued. “Media will move on from the photos from last night to the ones from your dates, and then Dot should let it go. They're difficult, but they don't want to be too difficult either. They know the actors talk, and if the word gets around that they’re being unreasonable, they may not get people they want in the future."
"I hope you're right." Sylvia sat back in her chair. "Otherwise, this whole thing would be a waste of time."
Nate snorted. "As I said, it's hard for me to believe you're suffering that much."
"We’re only pretending," she reminded him in a low tone to make sure no one would overhear.
She got a laugh and "See you in a bit" in response before Nate disconnected the call, but before the irritation could settle in, the bathroom door finally opened and Greg walked out.
His face was blank and Sylvia couldn't read him. As she watched him move through the café, various scenarios ran through her head, and most of them involved some guy in a suit on the other side of the country, screaming for Greg to get on the next plane to L.A.
She waited until he sat down before asking, "And?"
Greg shrugged and tilted his head. "It's not as bad as I was afraid it would be, which is great. But they're watching closely now, so we'll see."
"And how are you doing?" she asked, looking at him carefully. At some point between last night and now, Greg had stopped being a movie star, a surreal occurrence in her life, and had become just a man—with his own feelings, hopes, and frustrations. A man whom Sy
lvia felt drawn to, despite all the pep talks she’d been giving herself.
"I'm okay." He finished his coffee. "Maybe it's time we head out to the office, though?"
Sylvia nodded but couldn't help being disappointed. Their bubble from earlier was gone, and it was hard to come back to reality, even if the photos hadn't become a disaster after all.
When they left the café, Greg caught her hand in his and tangled their fingers together, squeezing them for a moment. Sylvia wasn't used to holding hands in the street—even if any of her ex-boyfriends had been inclined to do it, the fast-moving crowd made it difficult a lot of the time—but she relaxed into it and enjoyed it. Greg's hand was warm and solid, and she only hoped she wasn’t blushing as she squashed the giddy feeling in her stomach at that simple touch.
"I talked through most of the breakfast," she finally said when they came to the first light stop right as it changed to red. "Now it's your turn. Tell me something you're passionate about."
"Well, acting, but I guess that answer would be a cop-out." He nodded right after she did. "Yeah, that’s what I thought. I love music, too."
"Do you play any instruments? Or sing?" She figured he had to have a good enough voice if he was going to be in a musical on Broadway. Sometimes a theater would bring in a big name for more publicity, but holding a tune was still a basic requirement.
"Both, but I play better than I sing," he said with a self-deprecating smirk as they were crossing the street. "Mostly guitar, but I can also play piano and some drums. I sing sometimes to accompany my guitar, but I've never sung in front of a big audience."
"You're brave to come to New York for your first performance, then."
He chuckled. "Brave or stupid. But I admit the challenge part was yet another reason to say yes to this."
She squeezed his fingers and smiled. "I can't wait to see you out there," she said before she could stop herself. Oh God. She could feel her cheeks heat up, so she looked down. You weren’t supposed to talk about it, she told herself. Get a grip.
But Greg only shrugged, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I hope you will. I really want to do it." He frowned, his expression turning somber. "I don't want to get my hopes up too much, though."
"Isn't there a way to fight this if they pull the plug?"
He shook his head. "No. They knew it was important to me, and that gave them the upper hand in the negotiations. There's little wiggle room—they wouldn't be able to just pull the plug without a cause—but the list of reasons is pretty extensive and the morality clause is broad."
Judging from the ease and honesty of some of the theater stars on social media and beyond, it didn't seem like the Broadway actors had anything like Greg described, to Sylvia’s relief. She understood some restrictions, but that seemed much too excessive.
"Do all contracts look like this in Hollywood?" she asked him.
"No, no.” He shook his head quickly. “The ones for a big franchise are the trickiest, because you're not selling the movie alone. You're the face of the entire brand, and probably the future movies, as well, so they want to make sure you're not going to jeopardize anything."
"Is it worth it?" Sylvia asked. It was definitely not her business, but that didn’t stop her from being curious.
Greg sighed. "It depends. When I was signing the contract five years ago, it was worth it. I liked the franchise, the right people were involved on the creative side, and it wasn't like I had scripts sent to me left and right." He shrugged. "And I'm not going to lie—the money was important, too. It was going to buy me a lot of time if I ever wanted to take a break or work on something low-budget."
Sylvia tried to remember what she knew about Greg’s career. He'd had a few great roles before Collectibles, including the supporting role in Torment that had earned him an Oscar nomination six years ago. Then the first Collectibles movie had come out, and Greg’s character—a SEAL that left the military behind until it came knocking when the world was falling apart—gained him instant star status and recognition.
And a paparazzi escort whenever he went, apparently.
"So it was worth it then, but isn’t now?" Sylvia grimaced right after the words came out of her mouth. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"It's fine. I don’t think you’ll sell it to the press." He sent her a dry smile and she snorted. Yeah, there has to be a special brand of trust when we’re both lying to other people. "But an answer is more complex than a simple yes or no," he went on. "Would I sign a contract like that today? No. But I'm in a totally different place in my career now, and I know that I wouldn't be here without these movies—not now and maybe not ever—so I don't regret signing it back then.”
He stopped talking as he quickened his pace when they were passing a group of tourists who had their phones out and pointed at them. Sylvia lowered her head and hurried as well, tightening her grip on his hand.
When they were safe from the prying eyes again—or as safe as they could be, given the circumstances—Greg picked up their conversation as if nothing happened. “All in all, it's not so bad. I was able to do a few projects in between where I didn't have to worry about money. I actually like the Collectibles movies, so I won't have to wince for the rest of my career when someone mentions them, which, believe me, is a relief.” He quirked up a smile. “I’m lucky only die-hard fans have seen the movies I’d done when I was starting out. Nobody's going to ask about them twenty times a day for six months to a year."
She tried to muster up a smile, too, but she was still fighting the urge to look back and check no one was following them. She finally took a deep breath and let Greg’s words wash over her, temporarily pushing the worry away.
"If that happened, I bet I would break at some point and start answering honestly,” he went on. “Then the producers would sue me, and it would become a terrible mess."
"Lucky you, huh?" she offered with a dry smile. "Apparently, your situation could have been worse than it is now."
He snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, lucky me, indeed."
The way he looked at her as he said it did not send shivers down her back. It did not.
Chapter Six
Two hours later, the elevator door closed behind him and Greg released a deep exhale as he leaned against the back wall, thankful for a moment alone.
He’d just spent an hour and a half with Nate and Shawn, and his mind was still obsessively going through everything they’d talked about. The guys told him the plan was working fine, and the pictures from the alley should be buried quickly under all the other ones that clearly suggested Greg and Sylvia were dating. Basically, nobody even got to suggest Sylvia was a prostitute, since the photos of their breakfast hit the Internet almost at the same time—and that meant the worst case scenario was unlikely to happen at this point. Everyone had agreed last night that Greg and Sylvia should twist the real elements into their "romance", so the story turned into one about Greg being an attentive boyfriend who helped his girlfriend when she was about to faint. Dot Entertainment couldn’t play the morality card for something like that.
Greg knew he wasn't completely out of the woods yet—he wasn’t going to be until the last possible minute—but he could at least say the situation was a lot better now than it was when he was running away from the paparazzo last night.
He pulled out his phone to check the time as he was crossing the foyer to the exit. Ten past twelve. He still had almost an hour before he was meeting Charlie for lunch, so he decided to take a walk. It had been way too long since he’d last visited New York. In a weird way, he always felt at home here, and every once in a while he even entertained the idea of moving here at some point in the future. Since his days of audition marathons were long gone, he didn't have to live in L.A. anymore.
And if the next two and a half months went well, Greg would love to do more theater work. It always held a bit of his heart, reminding him of the college years and the ups and downs of working on a stage production for months at a ti
me.
Get through this one first, he told himself firmly, putting a ball cap on. You don't even know if you’ll still have a role to play in a few weeks. He didn't want to get his hopes up, so he had to try and tone down the urge to plan out his future when his present was on shaky ground.
His present had Sylvia in it, though, and that brightened his mood. Sure, they had been thrown together by accident, and fake dates weren't an ideal situation for anything, but Greg still enjoyed their time together, and he was looking forward to seeing her again. They’d all agreed the two of them should keep up the ruse for at least three more weeks until Greg couldn't be forced out of New York anymore and he was more than happy to do it. Sylvia was passionate, funny, and beautiful, and she hadn’t thought twice about helping him, even when she was clearly uncomfortable with being in the public eye. Keeping up the appearance of enjoying her company wasn't going to need any acting on his part.
He was supposed to pick up Charlie from the theater, so he turned into the same alley he and Sylvia had met in yesterday. In the daylight, the dumpster area actually looked worse than last night. He’d been smart enough not to touch anything, including the wall, but he still grimaced as he glanced at it now. Fortunately, the rest of the street made a much better impression, and by the time Greg got to the theater’s backstage doors, he had no problem leaning against the wall next to it.
He busied himself with his phone but didn't have to wait long. Charlie busted out of the door at five to one, and after spotting Greg, he hooted and ran to him, throwing his arms wide.
Greg couldn't help but laugh. As they fell into an embrace, he hugged Charlie as hard as his friend was hugging him, and they swayed on their feet.