“I’m only here because Ben insisted,” I said. As we turned the corner onto East Fiftieth, my feet began moving faster. Part of me needed buttercream frosting and the other part just wanted to make sure there were witnesses.
“I’ve thought about calling you a million times,” he said, edging closer to me. “I picked up the phone every day and thought, I want to talk to Holly today.”
“But you didn’t call.” After the first couple of days, I hadn’t really wanted him to call, anyway. But I did want to know why he didn’t.
“What was I going to say?”
“That you’re a jerk, that you led me on.” When Vaughn didn’t immediately respond, I glanced up at him and was surprised to discover how irritated he looked. Really, he was annoyed with me? I felt inside out and exposed, unable to get my bearings. And I was seriously angry with Vaughn for ruining my perfect day. “Why did you even want to talk to me today? Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”
Before Vaughn spoke, he put his hand on the small of my back. That touch brought me right back to that last unfortunate night in Rome, and I felt my internal temperature rise. I knew it was meant to be a sweet, soft gesture, but it felt inappropriate. I quickly stepped out of his reach, and his annoyed expression returned.
“We should have had this talk a while ago,” Vaughn started, speaking quietly. He glanced at me for some sort of agreement or reassurance, but I kept my expression as neutral as I could manage. It was taking all of my effort not to shake uncontrollably under his hand. “I am sorry that you felt like I led you on.”
“Don’t say that like it’s all in my head.” Some men have a way of making women feel their concerns are crazy. It took me a long time to realize that, more often than not, this is just a deflection of responsibility. And a weak one at that. “You may not have kissed me until Rome, but you sure made me think you wanted to.”
“Because I did,” he said. “I like you, we have fun together.”
“Then why did it take you so long?”
“Seeing you with Ben . . . I thought my head would split open.” Vaughn pursed his lips, which was much the same expression Ben got when talking about him. “I knew I was in trouble the second he first mentioned you.”
“I told you about Ben,” I said, confused. “After that endless meeting in Rome.”
Vaughn’s face looked momentarily startled, but he quickly recovered. “Right . . . What I meant to say was, when I saw the way he looked at you at the production meeting.” I was about to ask a follow-up question when he quickly added, “I should’ve done something then, it was stupid of me not to . . .” He reached up and brushed his hand against my face. This time, I couldn’t stop myself—I flinched.
There was still a disconnect in this conversation. I wanted to know why he’d waited until Ben expressed interest before he made a move; Vaughn not only wasn’t answering, he was just parroting what I’d already said. Even if I could let that go, I had other problems with him. “And why didn’t you return my call once we got back to L.A.?”
“I was embarrassed,” he told me. “Things didn’t exactly turn out the way I’d hoped.”
I watched his face as he admitted his “embarrassment.” Prior to working with Daisy, I’d never been particularly good at knowing when people were lying to me. I must have been getting better, because I knew, right then, that Vaughn was flat-out lying.
“But now we’re both here and we can fix it,” he said, reaching out to touch my back again. This time, he didn’t even make contact before I jerked away.
“Fix what?”
Again, he seemed stymied by my response. “Well . . . now we tell Ben. You’re the only one I want, Holly. And I know how you feel about me, I’ve always known.”
I didn’t know how I felt about him, how could he possibly know? How could he think things would be so easily resolved? If he had said any of this to me weeks ago, nothing would have played out the way it had. I was just beginning to see how arrogant and self-serving he was.
“There’s nothing to fix. I’m dating Ben.”
“For real, Holly? You want to date a production designer?”
I’m not one for physical violence, but I came very close to slapping him across the face. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Do you really think someone from the art department is going to get you into the right parties? Introduce you to the right people that will get you those big jobs?” He stared at me like I was the batty one, like he was trying to save me from myself.
“I don’t care about those things.” Until that moment, I didn’t realize just how bad a judge of character I must be. Daisy and Faith, Donnie, even my mother—I was wrong about everyone. Vaughn had seemed like a sweet, charming guy who only wanted to get to know me better, and it turned out he was one of the worst.
“Everyone cares about those things.”
Watching his irritation grow, I suddenly knew why he’d kissed me in Rome. And why he hadn’t returned my phone call in Los Angeles. “Oh my God. The dinner at La Pergola. ‘I don’t get invited to these things.’ You wanted to date me because it got you closer to Daisy’s inner circle.”
My mind flashed through the last couple of months, every word, every gesture. Maybe Vaughn did like hanging out with me, but I was of no use to him as a girlfriend until I could have ingratiated him with Daisy. “And you stopped calling when your show got canceled. Because you thought I couldn’t help you anymore.”
We reached the bakery and I stopped outside. I didn’t want his sliminess to sully perfectly good cupcakes. Because I’d need a few to cleanse my palate of this conversation.
“You’re being stupid,” he said. “If that were true, why would I be standing here with you right now?”
“I assume because the whole world is looking at Daisy again and not just as some teenage screw-up.” I still wasn’t sure how these things worked, but I may have even been more valuable to him now.
“Say that it would be beneficial for us to date. What’s so wrong with that?”
I wished he’d started our conversation with that very sentence. It would have made everything after unnecessary. I opened the door to the bakery. “I’m going to go eat cupcakes. You’re going to go to hell.”
“You’re behaving like a child,” he told me. “And you’re making a huge mistake.”
“The mistake would be if you took a single step to follow me.” I didn’t allow him any rebuttal. I pulled the door closed behind me and didn’t bother looking back.
• • •
I was on the edge of tears when I ran into Daisy in the lobby. I wasn’t mourning the loss of Vaughn (I’m not that weak), but I was a little overwhelmed by his deceit. She had just come back from her print interview and was in high spirits. I expected her to take one look at me and tell me that crying made her want to vomit, but she was strangely considerate.
“Holly Bear, what’s wrong?” Daisy asked.
I sniffled desperately, trying to regain my composure. But in the end, I didn’t have that much self-control. “I don’t know what to think,” I admitted, rubbing my eyes and accidentally smearing my black eyeliner. I’m sure I looked like Miss America.
Daisy put her arm around me and led me to the lounge area. “Is this about Ben and Vaughn?”
“No. Yes. There’s no choice there, I’m crazy about Ben.”
“Oh, thank God.” Daisy leaned in and touched her head to mine. It was the sweetest gesture I’d ever seen her make. “I was hoping you’d realize that. Vaughn’s a tool.”
“He is. I just don’t understand it. All of that effort so he could have a girlfriend who might get him into a few parties?” I shook my head, pulling away from Daisy a bit so that I could actually see her face. “I wish he hadn’t kissed me in Italy. Vaughn gave me some bullshit about how when Ben first saw me in Rome, he knew he had to make his move, like he wa
s hurt or jealous. I should have listened to Ben to begin with; he always said it was about winning. That Vaughn just didn’t like to lose. ”
Daisy suddenly looked confused. “In Rome?” She shook her head. “That’s not right.”
“What?” I remembered my own life quite well, thank you. “Yes, it is. I met Ben in the middle of the first night. I told Vaughn about it at the production meeting and he got all weird and jealous. Not that that part of it matters in the grand scheme of things.”
Daisy made a face and then shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s sort of how it happened. But Vaughn was weird and jealous days before we left for Italy.”
“Jealous of who?”
“Ben!”
“Daisy, what are you talking about?”
It was the first time I considered that she might actually like me. “The very first time Ben saw you, he asked like everybody who you were. Even my mom.”
“But I told him who I was.” I thought back to that night in the writers’ room; I had clearly identified myself. But Ben somehow already knew I was Daisy’s ghostwriter. I hadn’t put that together before now.
“Not in Rome, on set in L.A.,” Daisy said, rolling her eyes at me. “That day with the coffee truck. I guess you said something all funny and cute and then he asked like a trillion people who you were.”
The day with the coffee cart. I hadn’t known what Ben looked like. He could have been ten feet in front of me and I wouldn’t have recognized him. “He never told me that.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cute, right?”
Several threads of this story were starting to bother me. “But at the airport you didn’t even know Ben’s crew position.”
Daisy made a face. “There are like two hundred crew members, I don’t really care what they do. But I do know their names—Mom drills it into me. She thinks it’s rude to say, ‘Hey, guy behind the camera.’ ”
And yet, she had no problem deliberately calling Vaughn “John” for six years. “Huh.”
Daisy put a hand on my arm. “Let Vaughn go, he’s not worth your time. Ben seems pretty great. And damn if he isn’t hot.”
I laughed out loud. I really needed that. “He is, right?” I wasn’t sure it was appropriate, but I gave Daisy a hug. “Thanks for listening.”
She gave me one of her perfect little grins. “No probs, Holly Bear.”
• • •
When I walked back into the hotel room, Ben was seated by the window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. “My friends said I could stay with them. So you don’t have to worry about me.”
I was immediately confused. He looked so sad, so resigned to losing me to Vaughn. I couldn’t understand it. “Why would you go anywhere? You’re here with me.”
“I just thought . . . I may not have been there, but I know what Vaughn said to you.”
“Who cares what Vaughn had to say?” I asked. “Most of the time, he’s only speaking to hear himself talk.”
Ben finally turned to look at me, his surprise apparent. It was the only thing he’d ever done that hurt my feelings.
“You didn’t really think I’d fall for his bullshit, did you?” I was offended that this man I’d grown so close to, who seemed to understand me better than I understood myself, thought I was stupid enough to choose Vaughn over him.
“Guys like him, they always win. Even if they have to lie.”
“I knew it was a lie.”
I crossed the room and sat down on the bed, reaching my hand out to touch Ben’s knee. It was a simple gesture, but I needed it. I just needed to touch him. “And you’re so sure I want him?”
He stared at me with his wounded gray eyes and I instantly knew that I had miscalculated a lot of things. I’d assumed he wasn’t jealous, even made the leap that I couldn’t be that important to him. But Ben was mature, not uncaring. And for the first time, my stomach fluttered. Not in the infatuated, adolescent way it had when I met Vaughn, but something deeper, stronger.
“I was worried,” he said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I leaned forward and placed my hand against the side of Ben’s face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
When I kissed him, it felt like the rest of the world fell away.
Daisy’s dinner was held in Daniel’s Bellecour Room. As Ben and I walked to the restaurant, I expected to feel mounting dread over encountering Vaughn yet again. I wanted him to crawl back into the sewer drain he’d emerged from a little more than two months ago. But when Ben wrapped his giant, warm hand around mine, I realized I didn’t care about Vaughn at all.
Not that I had any doubts about my decision, but two seconds inside the door, Vaughn reinforced it. He was standing with a willowy brunette in some assemblage of flossy fabric that may have been a dress. Or it might have been tissue paper.
I had no intention of even addressing him, but as Ben and I passed on the way to the bar, he touched Ben’s elbow. “Benji, Holly. Have you met my date, Michelle Fairgate?”
Ben and I exchanged a look of barely disguised amusement. It took every ounce of my willpower not to burst out laughing. “Nice to meet you,” Ben said, shaking the woman’s hand. “If you’ll excuse us.”
As soon as we were clear, we both started to giggle. “Well, I can’t compete with a publishing heiress,” I said. “So I guess you’re stuck with me.”
Ben leaned down and kissed me. “There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with.” He nodded toward the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Whiskey sour.”
He walked to the bar, and I was standing alone for just a moment before Daisy approached me, a glass of champagne in her hand. Since it had been such a traumatic day, this didn’t automatically strike me as odd.
“I really think things are going to work out with Benji the carpenter,” she said. “I can feel it.”
“It’s going pretty well so far,” I told her. And then I finally asked the question that had piqued my curiosity more than a month ago. “Hey, do you know why people call him Benji?”
Daisy nodded. “Yeah, Vaughn gave him that nickname. He claims it’s because Ben always does what production needs, but I think it’s because Ben makes him feel insecure. But then, Vaughn always seems kinda insecure.” It was a remarkably astute observation from the Teen Queen.
As we talked about them, we both glanced toward the bar in time to see that Ben and Vaughn were standing next to each other. Ben leaned over to say something to Vaughn, and though we certainly couldn’t hear their conversation, the look on Ben’s face was nothing short of venomous. I found it irresistibly sexy. Next to me, Daisy giggled.
Suddenly, I remembered how odd it was that Vaughn was in New York in the first place. I’d thought about it earlier but had quickly been distracted. What did he have to do with the book?
“Wait, why is Vaughn even here?”
Daisy’s grin grew wider. “I’m the one who asked him to come. I’m meeting with De Niro and his people on Wednesday and I told them I wanted to bring Vaughn on as a producer.”
This was an extra piece of the puzzle. No wonder he’d wanted me as his girlfriend; I may not have been a Fairgate, but he thought I’d gotten him a film producer job. “But you know he’s a terrible person, right?”
“Oh, definitely,” she said. “But you live in L.A. Everyone’s a terrible person. At least Vaughn is good at his job.”
“But why is he here tonight? These are all your book people.”
Daisy lightly tapped me on my cheek, smiling. “I did it for you. Axel and Sharla told me what happened in Rome. They were afraid you still liked him. And Vaughn can be charming, but not for very long. I thought you should have the opportunity to finish things. Or whatever that’s called.”
I couldn’t believe she went through all of this trouble just for me. “Closure.”
“Right, cl
osure.” Daisy and I watched as Vaughn went back to the heiress. “You really dodged a bullet. He’s also pretty awful in bed.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Not after everything I’d seen and heard in the last couple of months. But I was. I chose not to acknowledge her words.
“So you’re officially signed on to do ‘Back Alley’?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Yep,” she said. “After a page-one rewrite from the author of the book.” Daisy looked up at me and winked. So she had actually been listening to me.
A very handsome man in his late forties walked into the room and waved at Daisy. “Who’s that?” I asked, fearing that he might be her latest romantic conquest.
“Oh, that’s my new manager, Cy,” she replied, raising her champagne glass. “I’ve been trying to get him for years, but he’s always been a little out of my league.”
I could have sworn I’d just heard Dr. Chace telling the reporters at CNN that he would be representing Daisy. But he had talked continuously for ten minutes, so it was possible that I’d mixed things up. “What about Dr. Chace?”
Daisy laughed out loud like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “That moron?”
“That moron claims he just saved your life,” I said. It was only then that I noticed the glass of champagne in her hand. “And speaking of rehab, is it really a good idea to be drinking? Not only are you underage, but you’re an addict.”
In response, Daisy drained the last drops of liquid from the glass. She glanced around to make sure we were out of earshot before leaning in and saying, “Do you really think I went to rehab because I’m an addict?”
I did, in fact. I’d been privy to all of her recent manic highs and lows, and there were only two explanations that made sense—either she was a drug addict or she had serious mental issues. Or both. “Come on, Daisy. The pills? The cocaine on the Roman street corner? You have to know that’s not normal behavior.”
“Do you want to know a secret?” There was something different in her voice. It took me a moment to realize it was the same persona she’d affected in the jail cell. The one I’d found so frightening and soulless.
Absolutely True Lies Page 33