She perks up, looking incredibly interested and adorable. “Ted Bates? I love him!” she exclaims, bouncing.
The way the sunlight catches her hypnotic gray eyes; I can’t stop my hand from pushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.
My eyes move to find hers. Wide-eyed and mouth agape she looks stunned and her breath catches.
I quickly take my hand away, setting it in my lap.
Fucker has a mind of its own.
I have to look away, out toward the waves of the ever moving ocean. “Yeah, he’s a great guy. It was an experience I’ll never forget.”
She shuffles away an inch or two, probably feeling awkward after my intrusion. “Can I ask—you know, what the movie is about? Or is that top secret?”
I laugh, shoulders bouncing. “Oh, it’s top secret. You know, if I tell you, and the information gets out, they’ll have to kill you.”
“Oh really?” Whitley plays along. “That sounds pretty serious, but I think I can handle it.” She holds up two fingers, in a Girl Scout manner. “I won’t tell, promise.”
I look to her, giving her a quirked eyebrow. “Scouts honor?”
Her hand falls. “No.”
My head tips to the side. “No? And why not?”
A sly smirk appears and she tips her head back, giggling. “I can’t give a scouts honor, Jennings. I was a Brownie.”
She’s in a joking mood, and knowing I possibly had something to do with her playfulness makes the shitty thing I did earlier seem almost—redeemed.
Not likely, prick.
“Oh, well, then. Brownies honor?” I rephrase.
She salutes. “Brownies honor.”
“It’s really no big secret,” I profess.
Whitley levels her eyes and whacks my arm with the back of her hand.
I smile and chuck a rock out into the water. “It’s about a group of women who get kidnapped from a safe house after being rescued from a foreign country full of poverty and slavery. One by one, my character, he’s a detective who decides to take the case in his own hands, has to find them and save them before they’re sold off to gangs and drug dealers. In the process, I end up falling in love with one of the women.”
“Sounds—provocative,” she says, thoughtful.
“It is, and groundbreaking. I was lucky to be cast in such a revolutionary film.”
“Wow,” she answers, breathless.
“Pretty heavy.”
She nods hear head. “I’ll say.”
Someone comes walking up behind us, and I turn to see who it is.
“Holli fucking Slone,” I say, getting up to give her a hug.
She points to Whitley just before she turns around and gives me a thumbs up. What’s that about?
“Jennings fucking Cohen. What’s up, buddy?” she inquires as she wraps her arms around me, giving me her signature bear hug. For being a little thing, the woman can hug the shit out of you.
“Holli,” Whitley interjects. “When did you get home?”
Holli releases me. “About five minutes ago, maybe. They decided to start shooting again for the summer premiere early this morning, but thankfully it was a quick day for me. I got out before everyone else. What’s up?”
Whitley points to me. “Oh, you know. Jennings decided to walk down the beach and run me over. No big deal.”
“Hey!” I shout, putting my hands out in front of me. “It was an accident.”
Holli gives us a knowing look.
“Blaine is inside, want to come say hi?” Holli asks.
My eyes travel to Whitley. She looks between the two of us, perturbed.
“Uh, sure?” It sounds like a question because I’m not sure where Whitley stands with me intruding her space.
To my utter amazement, she winks and gestures for me to take her elbow. “Come on, Jenns, let’s go see where I live.”
I give her a smile and lick my lips. Having her call me Jenns gives me hope that she’s warming up to me.
It would be nice. Oliver is a punk and I feel like a dick.
I have to play two different roles in my life. Why did I think this is a good idea? What the hell is wrong with me to think I could pull this off? It’s easy playing a different life on camera. Everyone knows I’m an actor, they don’t question it, and they sure as hell find it appropriate. But if anyone found out I pulled this bullshit stunt, they’d think I’ve lost my damn mind.
Maybe I have. I don’t know if I can do this.
The wind is still howling, and with my arm around Whitley’s little one, her fresh, fruity scent wafts into my nose and I can’t figure out if I’m doing the right thing or not.
The Jennings I want to be around her isn’t really me. I guess I’m an alright guy and could pass as a nice person if you don’t take into account my current predicament. It just Whitley makes me want to peel all of her layers back. I can’t quite figure her out. And if I’m right about how to achieve my goal, I’m going to have to be the opposite of Lark—the opposite of the old me. Lark is a douche, a fucking douche rocket, and really, Oliver and Jennings are, too.
Dammit.
Or maybe just Oliver? I’m getting confused.
My face breaks out in sweat and I contemplate bolting home and never coming back here or to the university. I’d rather cut all ties and take my losses. Then, Dad’s words ring in my mind. He may not have meant it the way I took it, I’m sure he meant to be encouraging and fatherly-like, but it hit home.
“Sonny, you need to make something of yourself. Your looks will only last so long,” he paused to scratch his salt and pepper hair. “Now, you’re a great actor. One of the best of your generation, but you need to make sure you have a backup plan.”
A backup plan.
A backup plan? What does that mean? I’ve made so much money I could live five lifetimes. A backup plan seemed like utter bull-fucking-shit to me at the time. But the more I thought about it and let the little nugget fester in my brain; I realized he might have been on the right track. Dad was right. I need to find something else to make me happy. Acting is already taking its toll on me. I’ve been in the business five years and I’m growing weary of it. Little by little its started to beat me down. It’s not meant for everyone. You have to be a special kind of person to willingly put your art out there to let it be judged. There was a time I thought I could do it and still hold myself intact.
Jennings Cohen was fearless.
I was fearless.
I’m starting to think that might be false. I’m not so fearless anymore. The more movies I do, the more I worry I’ve worn out my welcome. One minute the community would be on your side and the next they’ll shun you like last year’s RomCom.
As much as I’d like to deny it, I want to be good at my craft. I desire to be the best, and I like to think I’m getting closer. But getting closer means having less of a normal life and more of a chaotic one. It’s the chaotic life that worries me. I’ve never been okay with the spotlight. Put me in a room with a bunch of cameras, I’ll excel. I’ll deliver every line with feeling and emotion that’ll knock your socks off—or panties, you choose. But leave me on the red carpet, or put me in a room with screaming fans and photographers, I totally clam up. That reason alone is why I have the façade of being a prick. I can’t get a handle on the face-to-face stuff. I can’t figure out how to do it right, so I usually just fuck it up and look like a pompous dickface.
“Jennings,” Whitley snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You with me, buddy?”
I blink my eyes a couple times and take a big breath. “I’m sorry, Whit. What’s up?”
We’re a few feet from their house, and she lets my arm go. Sliding her sunglasses onto her head, her gray eyes glow in the setting sun. It’s in this moment when I seriously consider telling her all of my lies just so I can forego the shitty conversation I know will eventually come if I decide to keep lying to her.
But I can’t.
She needs to stay in the dar
k.
I shake my head and give her a smirk. “Just thinking.”
We walk up the wooden porch steps, bright white and crisp, the color is almost abrasive, it must have just been painted. The wide planks underneath my feet creak as we walk to the back door.
Their home is nothing like mine. My house is metal and modern, theirs is homey and inviting. The double doors welcome us to the open kitchen that looks like something a chef would be envious of.
“Welcome to our home, Jenns,” Whitley announces as she shuts the doors. I smile, bump my elbow into her body and give my eyes the opportunity to look around.
Different shades of blues and mint adorn the living room. Soft, fluffy pillows, and comfortable looking chairs make their living room appear like it was created straight out of a magazine. It’s aesthetically pleasing to the eye and mind, causing my erratic thoughts to stay outside and brood alone. It’s difficult to worry in a place like this.
“This place is amazing,” I offer as I turn toward Whitley and Holli.
They’ve stopped in the kitchen, eating from the trays of food that were set out on the countertops. Leaning her hip on the tall island, Whitley pops a carrot in her mouth and winks while Holli makes a valiant effort to watch every one of our movements. I narrow my eyes and challenge her to say something but she takes a bite of cucumber and looks away.
She probably knows something. I mean—unless Whitley kept our encounter to herself. Do girls really keep stuff like that to themselves?
I didn’t.
The second I got home from my run-in with her in that cab a month ago, I called Bradley, my closest friend, and spilled my guts.
I’m turning into a gossipy chick; I go to Bradley for everything.
Bradley and I met on the set of my first movie, he played my best friend, and we’ve been close ever since.
There are some backstabbing cocksuckers in my world and I have to watch my back. But Bradley is a good guy. Some actors are vain and have big heads, but in their core, they’re good people. Bad people are few and far between. It’s the actors among the actors that you really have to watch out for. Those ones will get you.
“Have a seat, Jennings,” Holli says around a mouthful of food.
Finding the closest cushion, I sit my ass down. Throwing my arm over the back of the couch, I look at Whitley still standing in the kitchen. She’s staring at me intently with a small smile playing on her lips, and I quirk an eyebrow. She averts her eyes and coughs.
“Uhh, want something to drink?” she offers, trying to hide her adorable embarrassment.
“Sure,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on the deep blush making its appearance on her cheeks.
She clears her throat and I struggle to keep my laughter in.
“What would you like?”
“You pick,” I throw her way.
She nods, bites her thumbnail and turns to the refrigerator.
“So, Holli, where’s Blaine?” I ask. She said he was here, but I’ve yet to see him.
“Upstairs, taking a shower.”
Whitley shuffles around the kitchen making my drink and I let my head fall back against the couch. It’s been a long time since I’ve sat at someone’s house and just chilled. Most days, if I’m not working, I’m sleeping. Bradley and I occasionally go golfing or out to eat, but it’s been ages since I’ve sat in another person’s house and did nothing.
Bradley and his wife, Sophia, have invited me over to their house numerous times for dinner, but I always feel like I’m imposing. They have a brand new baby, and from what I understand, entertaining is the last thing they want to do. I always make up some bullshit excuse because I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want them to take me in simply because they know I don’t have anything else to do.
I’m alone, sure. But, I’m not lonely.
Well, not completely lonely. I have my moments when I wallow. “Oh poor Jennings. Famous movie star has no friends,” but then, I quickly slap myself and get back to work.
Maybe that’s why my lifestyle is starting to worry me so much. It’s basically all I am. I have nothing else. I’m Jennings, the actor, I don’t really have any other redeeming qualities.
That’s a crappy thought.
I may be at the top of my game, but my life is kind of in a downward spiral.
“Rum and coke.” Whitely sets a small glass in front of me.
“Thank you, Cup—” Oh shit, again with the flubbing up my two lives? “Cab Girl,” I recover.
“You got it.” She flashes me a grin and sits down on the other end of the couch, missing my fuck up.
Thank God.
“So,” Holli says at Whitley. “Break up with that ass-munch of a boyfriend, yet?”
Whitley’s head falls forward in laughter, shoulders moving up and down. Walking to a recliner across from us, Holli sits with her legs crossed, waiting for Whitley’s reply.
Whitley points her finger at her, speaking in a hushed tone to me. “She doesn’t like Lark much.”
I nod my head in a fluid motion and shoot a look to Holli. She winks my way and I turn back to Whit. “I can see that.”
Whitley sighs and pulls her legs under her. “I don’t know if I broke up with him—I just told him to fuck off.”
“Fucking off is good, I can handle fucking off.”
“You can handle what?” Blaine’s voice rumbles as he moves from the bathroom, looking showered and fresh. He’s got a smile on his face and moves toward me when he sees me sitting on the couch. “Jennings, how’s it going?”
I stand up to give him a one-arm man hug. “Good, man. It’s going good. On break right now.”
He walks to the kitchen to retrieve the tray of food and sets it on the large coffee table. “Oh yeah? When did you wrap the Ted Bates movie?”
“A few weeks ago. There’s a possibility I have to leave to train for the next movie. I don’t know yet, though.”
Why am I telling them I’m traveling? That won’t work into my lie.
Well, shithead. It’ll have to work now.
Idiot. You need to think of something else…
Thankfully for me, Blaine lets it go and sits next to Holli on the armrest, kissing her cheek. She brings her left hand to his face and a bright ring shines in the light. Whitley jokingly covers her eyes and I smile.
“You finally proposed, huh?” I ask with a smirk. Blaine had been talking about popping the question for years now.
They unlatch from each other and both grin. “Yeah,” Blaine says. “In Paris last week.”
And another one bites the dust. I’m the only single guy I know.
“Well, congrats guys. I’m happy for you.” It really is spectacular to see two people who are so clearly in love with each other finally make it official.
“Thanks,” they say in unison.
Whitley laughs and I can’t help but follow her with my own laughter.
“So,” Holli says. “What are you doing tonight, Jennings?”
I take my arm away from the back of the couch and cross my left leg over my right knee. “Nothing.”
“Why don’t you take Whit out?” Holli offers with genial merriment.
Whitley’s head snaps up and meets Holli’s gaze with a venomous stare of her own. “Right here, Holls, right here.” She puts both of her hands up, waving them back and forth.
I set my foot down and look to the floor, avoiding Holli’s scrutiny. There’s nothing I’d like more than to take her out. “What do you say, Whitley? Want to hang out with me tonight?”
Slowly, she moves her eyes to meet mine. I can’t help but bite my lip at the blush cascading over her face.
“It—wouldn’t be the worst thing—I guess,” she answers in an amusing tone.
“No? Well, that’s good. There’s gotta be a compliment in that sentence somewhere.”
“Where are you going to take her, Jennings?” Holli asks, cutting Whitley’s giggle short.
“Holli, baby,” Blaine says. “Shush.
Let the man do what he wants.”
I get up and stretch my body across the coffee table to fist bump his hand. “Thanks, bro.”
Holli rolls her eyes. “Oh shut up, both of you. I’m just curious.”
I shrug a shoulder and look to Whitley. “I’ll figure something out.”
She looks down at herself. “Do you think I should change clothes?”
In tight blue jeans and a snug tank top, she looks good. Exquisite, even. I’m not really up for going out in public with her; I’d like to keep her to myself tonight.
“No, you look great.” I stand and offer her my hand.
She looks to Holli and Blaine and they nod their heads.
“Alright, Jennings, let’s get out of here, then.”
Clasping our hands together, I give a salute to Blaine and smile at Holli, leading Whitley out the back door.
WHAT THE HELL AM I thinking? I shouldn’t be walking down the beach with Jennings. And I definitely shouldn’t be getting gooey feelings every time he brushes my arm with his or when he lightly touches my fingers. My brain shouldn’t be mush because he keeps looking my way with that signature smirk.
It shouldn’t.
But, it is.
Okay, so he’s a famous star. So what? No big deal. My best friend is famous and I burp around her.
Bullshit.
This is Jennings Cohen. There’s famous and then there’s him. Can I do this? Jesus, the paparazzi. I didn’t even think about them when I agreed to hang out. This could be very bad for me.
“Jenns?” I say, stopping to take my sandals off so I can walk in the incoming surf.
He stops, offering his hand to help keep me balanced. “Whitley?”
I take a deep breath, trying to find the correct words. I don’t mind being seen with him. That’s not the problem. It’s the aftermath that I’m worried about. I know the moment my picture is posted in the tabloids, my life might never be the same. I don’t think I’m ready for that. Any time my picture has been in any magazine with Holli, I was always an afterthought. No one cares about the normal looking best friend. But tabloids thrive—beg and plead for juicy gossip. And me being with Jennings is newsworthy. We aren’t even romantically involved but I’m sure the press would have a field day.
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