His strained whisper made Arlen flinch. “Nothing. I've never talked to Lola about this. I just put it all together.”
Ray looked back. “So I'm the one who gave it away?”
“No,” Arlen answered. “He is.”
Ray looked at Arlen. “Tom?”
Arlen sighed. He'd started this damn conversation, so he may as well finish it. “Whenever he's around, he goes out of his way to treat you like a plebeian, scarcely worth his notice. But whenever anything happens that throws him even the tiniest bit off course, he turns to you. First. Immediately. He needs a decision validated, a question answered, a date confirmed, a movie quoted—it's you. He makes sure to sound derisive when he does it, but it's always you.”
Ray swallowed.
Arlen nodded. “You're his true north.”
Ray let out a bitter laugh. “I wish. It's not like that.”
“It is for you,” Arlen countered. “That's why you're always laughing at me.”
“Huh?” Ray asked warily.
“You've been obsessing over me because you're desperately trying to convince yourself that you aren't head over heels for Tom. If you're attracted to someone else, then he can't mean that much, right?”
“Obsessing?” Ray squawked. “You sure think a lot of yourself.”
“Not as much as you think, apparently.”
“Shut up.” Ray threw a pillow at him. “And if all this were true,” he said, trying to backpedal to a time when his affair with Tom wasn't all but confirmed with video, “why wouldn't I want to go crazy for Tom? He's a rich, gorgeous tycoon.”
“A rich, gorgeous tycoon who might do something that changes everything, like buy you a car. Or offer you a show.”
“And why the hell wouldn't I want that?! I've been busting my ass in this business for a decade!”
Arlen leveled a look at him. “When you actually care about someone, the last thing you want is for them to treat the relationship like an exchange of commodities.”
Ray stood up. “Well. Thanks for ripping off that Band-Aid. Really. Thanks. This has been fun.”
As he turned to leave, Arlen reached out for his hand and stopped him.
Ray turned back to look at him.
“Enjoy love while you have it, Ray. If it turns out that someone doesn't love you the way you love them, you can survive.”
“You want me to jump right in—when he might just tear my heart out?”
Arlen nodded. “Don't you get it? That's pretty much the deal. Either jump in and risk heartbreak, or just live your life without ever getting close to anyone.”
Ray started nodding back at Arlen furiously. “Right. Get my heart pulverized, and I'll survive. Right. Like you?”
Arlen's head snapped back. “What?”
“Take offense if you want, Arlen, but you're a total wreck.”
“A total wreck? What's that supposed to mean? You said I was killing it.”
“You ARE. That's just it.” Ray lowered his voice. “You're not an actor. You are totally nailing this dark, brooding character, and you're not an actor. So there is something really dark in your life that you're brooding about, and I think you just told me what it is. 'You can survive it,' my ass.”
Arlen looked away, gave his head a little shake. Everything with Rachel had hurt so much. But it wasn't the loss of Rachel that was burning a hole in his life. But he wasn't about to go into that with Ray. Or anybody.
He looked back at Ray. “Tom is a lucky guy. And consider for a second that he might actually know that.”
Ray nodded again. At the door, he turned back to Arlen. “So Lola doesn't know?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Please don't tell her.”
“I won't.”
“Thanks.”
As Ray snapped the door shut behind him, Arlen settled back down on the couch. He thought about the wreck his life had become, then he thought about Lola.
Chapter 36
ARLEN
Less than a week.
Katie, Matteo, and Ella would arrive in six more days. Then Arlen would be swamped with what really mattered in his life. He was really, really looking forward to forgetting about Lola and her show.
Arlen swiped a gloved hand across his forehead, feeling the grit he smeared across his face. The buzzing air was alive with the scent of blooming flowers and the day was actually breezy enough that Lola had the windows open in favor of the air conditioning. The morning was perfect for working outside, but he wanted the day done, already. He crouched down to inspect the shallow trench he'd dug across Lola's yard. The stone walkway—or 'sidewalk', as he called it—was the last project, and he would be finished working on Lola's house with time to spare. Hallelujah.
Ever since the pilot had been turned in just under the wire, Lola had been waiting. Waiting to hear from the network whether Off the Beaten Path was getting picked up. And she did some of her waiting at home. But not all of it. He had to hand it to her—she could lunch with the best of them. Sometimes she had upwards of three lunch meetings a day as she met with writers and directors who could potentially work on the show.
If it got picked up.
Arlen's mouth went dry. He'd been working at her house all through the pilot, acting as if nothing in his life had shifted into The Twilight Zone. But if the show got picked up, everything would be so different and bizarre all the time. Arlen took three deep breaths. For now, he was still a handyman with a job to finish. Nothing had really changed.
In fact, the eleven days he'd spent working on the pilot had hardly put a ripple in his handyman schedule. Making up the lost time had been easy enough to do by working late and through the weekends, facilitated by Her Highness finally never being home. All the editing and post-production had kept her busy enough that she could finally keep her word. So, the job would be done, the kids would arrive, and everything would be gloriously right. Lola hadn't actually wrecked the most essential things about his life.
So then why did he feel like he'd been hit with a tsunami? Nothing about dealing with Lola was easy or logical. It was as if the ground were shifting under his feet and he couldn't get purchase, no matter how he dug in.
Damn it! Why did Lola have to like him? Even a little bit? Wendy he could care less about. She never did anything without first considering how it would reflect back on her image, and he knew she liked the idea of a possible fling with her co-star.
But Lola? She was a control freak, and Arlen couldn't help but believe that she was in a tailspin when it came to how she felt about him. That bothered him. It really bothered him.
But why should it? This was the most crucial time in her life. A time of crisis, one might say. People were always going on about how you discovered who you truly were and what you were made of in times of great adversity, but Arlen didn't buy it. It was who you were every day that really mattered. And he had no idea who Lola was every day. Maybe on an average day she wouldn't give him a second look.
Arlen stopped digging and took a long swig from his water bottle. Average days. Those bygone days when everybody had needed him and wanted him—he missed it all so much.
He clenched his teeth, trying to forget.
But then he heard it. And a chill flashed through him. Lola's phone rang somewhere just inside the house. Baby, did you ever wonder—
That was Tom's ring. And Lola had pounced on it.
The Call. This could be The Call. Arlen felt poised at the apex of the log flume ride, ready to go right over the edge of the waterfall.
Shoom.
Lola crashed out of her front door and made a bee-line for Arlen, gaining speed as she approached. “We got picked up! We got picked up! We got picked up!”
Arlen let the shovel drop to the ground just as she launched herself at him. He caught her as she wrapped her legs and arms around his torso. He could feel her lips by his ear.
“We did it we did it we did it we did it we did it we did it.”
He held her hard,
feeling the white hot joy pulse through her. He knew this was the greatest moment of her life.
She took in gulping breaths as he held her. And they stood like that. Just stood with Arlen holding onto Lola like she was some sort of giant Pooh Bear.
Chapter 37
LOLA
I don't ever want to let go. Ever. He's hot and dirty and sweaty and getting grime all over my daisy-sprigged shorty pajamas but I don't care.
Arlen Black listened to me and he understood me. He understood what I wanted and what I loved. He didn't judge me for it or tell me how wrong-headed I am. He didn't lecture me on how I should be living my life. He just understood and for absolutely no reason at all, he helped me get what I wanted more than anything in the whole world. I do not ever want to let go of this man.
“Lola,” he says, his words gently wafting into my uncombed hair. “I am so happy for you.”
I pull back and look at him, my eyes open wide. “What?” I ask.
He looks at me. “I am so happy for you.”
I didn't imagine it. He really said it. “Nobody,” I gasp. “Nobody's ever said that before or … ever.” I … I just have to—
I duck my head down to kiss him. But the second I move he's there, his lips on mine, kissing me long and slow. I sigh deep in my throat and tighten my legs around his hips.
Beeep beep beeeeeeep beep!
Arlen pulls back at the racket of the car horn and I slide down his body to stand in the trench next to him. I turn to look towards the long drive.
The honking car gets closer and I know it has to be Ray.
“Lola,” Arlen says, “you have to change that gate code.”
I turn back to Arlen with a wide grin, then take off towards the Prius. Ray stops and jumps out of the car with a bottle of champagne.
“Woo-hoo!” Ray pops the cork and foam erupts everywhere.
He's covered with champagne, but I don't care as I fling my arms around him.
I pull away and laugh to the heavens as I throw my head back.
“Come on in, both of you,” I say, turning to include Arlen. I spin toward the house and start skipping.
Chapter 38
RAY
“Not too much for you, missy!” Ray shouted after her. “You have to be on a plane in three hours!”
“Yay!” Lola hooted as she headed into the house.
Arlen sidled up next to Ray. “A plane?”
“The Upfronts in New York,” Ray explained, smiling at the damn wonder of it all. Arlen Black was a handyman who had no freaking clue about the TV business. But thanks to him, Ray was now working on a drama in the fall lineup. “It's where the networks announce their new shows. Execs, stars, showrunners, ad people—it'll be a grueling few days for Lola, but she'll love every minute.”
Ray turned to face Arlen, who was actually smiling.
“Okay, Brigadoon,” Ray said. “What's with the smile? I know you can't flash one more than every hundred years or so, and I know you can't be that psyched about the show's getting picked up. Are you, by any chance, crazy happy for Miss Lola? Is that why I'm seeing this rarer than rare smile from you?”
“It is not,” Arlen assured him.
“Right,” Ray snorted.
Arlen just dented his brows.
“Come on,” Ray harrumphed. “You're filthy.”
“So?”
“So, the front of Lola's cute little pj's are all dirty.”
“Ray,” Arlen said. “I was the only one here when Lola got the call. She launched herself at me like a grenade.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Ray said through pursed lips. “Then why the smile?”
“Because Tom obviously called you first.”
The cocky look dropped from Ray's face. “He called me first?”
“Lola got the call about two minutes before you came flying up the drive.”
Ray's mouth dropped open and the color drained from his face. “He called me first,” he said again, this time in barely a whisper. Then he smiled and looked at Arlen. “So, I guess we've both had pretty amorous mornings.”
“Ray ...”
“Come on,” he laughed as he headed toward the house. “She was plastered against you in those shorty pajamas.”
“Because it was the happiest moment of her life.”
Ray stopped because Arlen's voice had gotten almost hard to hear. “Still counts,” he decided.
“I don't think she would have done something like that on an average day.”
“Dude,” Ray laughed. “Lola Scott does not have average days.”
Chapter 39
LOLA
I jerk awake when we hit a pocket of turbulence. My stomach dips in abject terror, but luckily, the plane evens out before I blink myself fully into consciousness. I hate flying. Hate it. As far as I'm concerned, those fucking Wright Brothers have a lot to answer for.
But flying first class helps. I stretch out along my reclined seat, snuggling under the big blue blanket. It is so totally awesome how they still give you blankets in first class. I try not to giggle with glee and look like too much of a boob who's wetting herself because her ship has just come in.
God, life is good. The past three days in New York were freaking empowering. I've never felt so alive—so on fire—so thoroughly sleep deprived.
I sigh into the fuzzy blue folds I've pulled up to my nose. Now that the show has been picked up, everything is different. First and foremost, my chastity belt is locked and I've recycled the key. A single female rookie showrunner in her thirties? There could be NO SEX SCANDAL. None.
A chill races through me. My God. What had I almost done with Arlen? My mystery leading man? Jesus.
I owe Arlen everything, no joke, but why on earth did I ever think I wanted the guy? Deadline psychosis fueled by the unquenchable terror that my pilot might get scuttled, no doubt.
I almost laugh with relief as I realize my foolishness about Arlen has faded. The show is actually running and I've never felt so absolutely euphoric. Ever.
I close my eyes hoping to drift back to sleep. But as I sink into my own happiness, I'm suddenly infused with the memory of kissing Arlen. In my yard, wrapped around him, his holding onto me for dear life.
I sit up a bit and shake my head clear. That kiss was the end of my whackadoodle lusting after Arlen. The very end. The final curtain call.
Arlen Black is the key to my show—that's it. I have to remember that. He is someone I've got to protect. Even Wendy doesn't realize what a threat she poses.
But I handled her.
I'd been lying on my decadent bed at the Plaza, gazing sleepily up at the chandelier above my bed. I was just wondering if the thing would kill me if it fell on me when a soft knock at my door caught my attention. It was almost 3 a.m., and I wondered for a fleeting second if it might be that guy from the McDonald's team. But no. It had been Wendy, acting all excited about the day's events. Bitch. It was so obvious she was just there to find out what she could about Arlen.
We got cozy in Queen Anne chairs facing each other in my suite. “You know,” I said, as we cradled our tumblers of brandy, “I hope we can keep the mystery going until the pilot airs. About Arlen I mean.”
“Mmmm,” Wendy purred. “But he's my leading man. Shouldn't we unveil him for the world to see?”
I tipped my head, as if considering. “Maaaaaybe … but I worry because he's a rookie, Wendy. You know the critics will eat him alive if they know how inexperienced he really is. Then the pilot's sunk before it even airs. And you know how good the pilot is.” I injected my voice with some fear, some doubt. “How on earth did things get so complicated so fast?”
I could see my worry reflected for a beat in Wendy's face. I opened my mouth as if to speak, then hesitated. I bit my lip, giving Wendy plenty of time to step in.
“I know what we'll do,” she insisted, leaning forward. “We want the world tuning in to the pilot, waiting to see what I have in store for them with this new man. Then they'll see the show and be Off
the Beaten Path fans for life.”
I crinkled my brow. “But how?” I mused. “How on earth do we get the media to stay uninterested in YOUR leading man? You're freaking Wendy Hunter.”
She sat back, a smug set to her features. “I totally know what to do,” she said. “I'll hint and I'll hint, but I'll never actually give them anything.”
“But you're so generous,” I pointed out. “It would be just like you to get a chance and go and say something wonderful and amazing about Arlen and where he's come from and how—”
“Easy,” Wendy said, interrupting me. “Just don't tell me anything about Arlen. You're right about how generous I am. Any chance I have to talk up my fellow actors, I do it. You better not tell me anything, just to be safe.”
I hide my smile in the folds of the plane's blanket. Wendy is so damn easy.
Chapter 40
LOLA
I yawn and blink my way off the plane and into the airport, desperate to get home and into bed. Tomorrow, work on the show starts in earnest. FOR REAL. But first, I need some serious sleep. If only the rest of the world could indulge in a Dr. Who marathon while I catch up on some down time. I feel like all the exhaustion of the past months has become too much to bear, and, like Jean Grey, I'm about to let the deluge crash over me. And just like her, I'll rise up like a Phoenix tomorrow, ready to take on the world.
I step with more of a spring as I remember how well I managed everything and everyone in New York. I was born to run—
Smack!
My knees hit the shiny floor of the airport corridor and my case glides into my back.
I look at the magazine rack of tabloids at the newsstand in front of me.
Wendy Hunter Getting Cozy with Her New Co-star.
And there's a picture. Of the two of them. Kissing.
Wendy and Arlen kissing in his house. The shot was clearly taken through the window, but I recognize enough of what I see to know they're standing in Arlen's living room.
I walk stiffly toward the newsstand where I buy the paper and a bottle of water.
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