Queen of the Universe (In Love in the Limelight Book 2)

by Geralyn Corcillo

“Mine's dark blue,” Matteo pitched in, “but I taped a big yellow X on each bag.”

  Pam sighed. So far, so good. They were actually attempting to make small talk. Lord, how she'd been drilling it into them not to pepper Arlen with questions the second they saw him. You know Wendy Hunter? Is she your girlfriend? You're on a TV show?

  Pam wouldn't have minded knowing some of the answers herself, but … She was living the life he no longer could, so she wasn't about to bug him if he was finally starting to build a new existence for himself. But an actor? That was weird. Or was it? Should she really be surprised? Arlen could do anything. And he had, when he was with Rachel and the kids. Just out of college yet taking over every household duty so Rachel could pursue her dream in design. Practicing Irish dancing with Katie. Ballet with Ella. Playing about a million video games with Matteo. Practicing karate with him. Teaching Katie to play chess when she'd asked. Learning all about Rachel's new career so he could be her constant assistant. Taking—

  “Pam?”

  She looked over at Arlen, pretty sure he'd just asked her something. “What?” she asked. “Sorry. Ears haven't popped yet.”

  “Where to? Do you want to have lunch with us or do you want us to drop you at Dan's or—”

  “None of the above!”

  Pam swung around to see Dan sweep into their small circle, kissing her on the cheek and picking up her bag in one fluid move.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said, his smile suffusing into his eyes. “Good to see you.” He turned to Arlen. “Bro,” he said, extending his hand and pumping Arlen's enthusiastically. “Good to see you, too, man.”

  “Yeah,”Arlen said, smiling.

  Dan turned to the kids. “Hey you, Rugrats.”

  “Hey, Uncle Dan!”

  “Listen,” he said, addressing the kids, “I'm going to let you guys and Arlen take off now. But we'll all get together soon and you guys can tell me all about your summer. Sound good?”

  “Good!” Matteo agrees.

  Pam thought again about what a complete asshole Jon had been to take the kids out of L.A., away from Arlen and away from Dan. Jon got them away from any other man they might know and love. Ah, well. No use in thinking about how things should have been or used to be. She had a month to spend back in Los Angeles, with her son, to boot. Time to let Arlen be with his kids.

  Chapter 55

  RAY

  Ray's mouth dropped open when he noticed Lola wandering into her office. Wandering! Lola Scott did not wander. She always moved with the velocity of a damn avalanche. And it was past noon! Sure, she'd travelled to hell and back yesterday, but it had been first class. Nothing like that could ruffle The Great Lola Scott. Ray remembered the time on Girl and Beast when Lola rewrote a script on her phone in the parking lot during a bomb scare evacuation. The woman simply did not get rattled. Or worn down. But today, she was a total freaking zombie.

  It was because of Arlen. Arlen and the show and Jon Robin and the kids.

  Arlen's kids.

  Lola hadn't said a word to Ray about them, but once she'd given him the name Jon Robin and told him to start digging, Ray blasted away with gusto. Even when Lola had the info she needed to secure her meeting with the mysterious Mr. Robin, Ray had kept ferreting away. And once he'd found the kids' names, he'd found the trail back to Arlen. And Rachel. And the car accident. Jesus.

  Ray needed to see Tom. The whole damn world, outside the studio gates and in, was topsy-fucking-turvy. And sure, Tom Glenn and Ray's feelings for him, and Tom's feelings for Ray, were hardly a stabilizing force in the maelstrom. But Ray didn't care.

  He just needed to see him.

  Grabbing some paperwork about the kids on the show and their working hours and their on-set teacher, Ray hightailed it to the C building to see Tom.

  But on the elevator up to Tom's floor, he realized he didn't exactly have the clout to just waltz into Tom Glenn's office.

  But he knew how to push Tom's buttons.

  Ray strode up to Tom's assistant's desk. “Carter, these are Wendy Hunter's contracts from Lola. Tom asked for them ASAP.”

  “I'll take them.”

  “Nope. Lola wants something back. Something about Wendy's diet restrictions?”

  “Ah,” Carter said, raising a brow. “That must be the call we're waiting for. Go ahead.”

  Ray strode into Tom's office and shut the door behind him, his heart doing the salsa.

  Tom looked up from his desk and bolted backwards out of his chair. “Ray?”

  His shriek came out as such a tense whisper that Ray felt nails-on-chalkboard shivers race across his back.

  “What are you doing here?” Tom splutter-whispered. “In my office? You can't be in my office. I can't see you in my office. Ever. It's too weird.”

  “I just—”

  “No.” And with that, Tom ducked out the back door of his office.

  Just as the door snapped shut, the intercom on Tom's phone came to life. “Tom,” Carter said, “The call from Wendy Hunter.”

  Ray looked at the phone and a tidal wave of red fury blasted over him. Wendy and her damn publicity stunt! Everything else aside, now repercussions of her bullshit had him running for Tom and Tom running away from him.

  He went around to the front of Tom's desk and picked up the phone. “Wendy Hunter, you listen to me. Your damn stunt cost Arlen his kids. HIS KIDS. He has a very precarious custody agreement and your picture shot it to hell. He came in here yesterday ready to quit. And if Lola Scott hadn't gone to the mat and sold her soul to get Arlen's kids back, today you would be without a co-star, without a show, and very likely, without a head if Arlen had gotten a hold of you. So you better find Arlen and MAKE IT UP TO HIM!”

  Ray slammed down the phone then collapsed like a sack of potatoes onto the floor, forgetting that Tom's chair was pushed four feet back and not there to catch him.

  Chapter 56

  ARLEN

  “So are you gonna marry her?”

  Arlen glanced at Matteo in the rearview mirror and his fingers gripped the steering wheel. “Marry her?” he choked out. “But I've only known her a few weeks.” So he couldn't marry Lola, right? It was too bizarre. Wasn't it?

  “But you were kissing her,” Ella pointed out, turning to him and skewering him with The Stare from the passenger seat.

  What? How did they know that? How did they know anything about Lola? How could they?

  “Are you gonna move into her Beverly Hills mansion?”

  “She doesn't live in Bev—”

  Jesus. Arlen felt a chill skate across his skin. He had to get a grip. Matteo and Ella were talking about Wendy. Of course they were. They had no clue who Lola was. So why would they ask about her? But Arlen couldn't let even a minute pass without thinking about Lola and irrepressibly wishing that she were with him—with all of them.

  “Nana said we weren't supposed to pester you with questions,” Ella began. “But this isn't pestering, right?”

  “Right,” Arlen said, nodding enthusiastically as he tried to switch gears and stop thinking about Lola. About Lola and the kids. There was no Lola and the kids. There was Lola. There were the kids.

  He cleared his throat.“I haven't seen you guys in ages and a lot's been happening. I have some surprises to tell you about—”

  They squealed in unison.

  “—but one of them is NOT that I am going to marry Wendy Hunter. I am not in love with her. She is not my girlfriend. But we ARE on a TV show together, and I have to kiss her on the TV show.”

  Matteo blinked twice. “Why do you have to kiss her on TV?”

  “Because it's my job.”

  “It's your job to kiss a famous person.” So deadpan for a kid of twelve.

  “Well … yes.”

  “So … you get paid to kiss her?”

  “Not just to kiss her. I hardly ever kiss her. Mostly I just have to say my lines.”

  “Oh. So what's the surprise?”

  “Yeah,” echoed Ella.

  “Tha
t's it!” Arlen said, laughing. “I'm on a TV show.”

  Ella sat back in a pouty slump against the seat. “We already knew that.”

  Arlen nodded. “I guess you did. But I have lots to tell you. And show you.”

  “But wait. You still didn't tell us why you were kissing Wendy in our house,” Matteo pointed out.

  Arlen nodded. Arlen tried never to lie to the kids. He'd been that way since the very beginning. Maybe it had been naïve of him, but he hadn't had a clue about how else to relate to Rachel's three kids. And as Katie, Matteo, and Ella quickly became his kids, too, the policy had held up for him. He wasn't going to let the lunacy of the show screw that up. “You know how you just said Wendy is famous?” he began. “Well, photographers follow her around all the time.”

  “Are photographers gonna follow you around now?”

  “No. I'm not famous.”

  “And you don't have a millionty-seven dollars like Wendy.”

  Arlen smiled. A millionty-seven. Ella had started saying that a few months before their world shattered. Arlen wondered if ten year-old Ella just dragged it out now for his sake. If so, he didn't mind.

  “I bet she even has horses she lets come in the house,” Ella went on. “Famous people totally do that.”

  “Uh, I guess they do,” he said. “But I'm not famous. Not famous at all. Anyway, Wendy came to the house just to hang out and talk about the show. And when she left, she kissed me. Just a quick kiss.”

  “But Lenny,” Ella said. “It was on the lips. That's boyfriend-girlfriend kissing.”

  “I know this is going to sound weird,” Arlen tried to explain, “but actresses are pretty weird. They kiss everyone on the lips.”

  “Why?”

  Arlen could feel himself start to sweat. “I honestly don't know.”

  “Maybe she's looking for a boyfriend.”

  “Ella, that is totally NOT the way to go about finding a boyfriend. And, uh, I think she has a boyfriend.” Why the hell had he said that? Man. Was he so desperate to get them off the idea of him and Wendy as an item that he would actually start making stuff up?

  “Really?!” Ella's eyes got huge. “Who?”

  “Not sure,” Arlen said, trying to remember anything Wendy had said about a possible love interest. But the woman was hard to pay attention to once she started telling The Story of Wendy. “I think some guy from a boy band.”

  “A boy band?” screeched Ella. “Which one?!”

  “Not sure. But I know she said something about a concert ...”

  Wendy had to know someone from a boy band, right? Sure, she was thirty, but plenty of those boy band guys were hardly boys. So Wendy had to know at least one. So it wasn't really a lie, really.

  Arlen exited the freeway.

  “Will Wendy be there when we get home?”

  “No, Matteo. She was only ever here that once, and just for a few minutes.”

  “Why didn't she stay longer?”

  “Well, for one thing, she didn't really like Nick and Nora.”

  “Nick and Nora! Nick and Nora!” The two of them started kicking their legs in glee as they shouted.

  Arlen sighed as he pulled into the drive. The dogs to his rescue.

  He smiled as they all hopped out of the car. Arlen went right to the gate and let the kids through. In about three seconds, the middle of the backyard was nothing but a ball of tumbling, noisy kids and dogs. As Arlen snapped the latch shut behind him, his phone chimed with a text. He ducked under the Chinese elm to read it, his heart sinking when he noticed it wasn't from Lola.

  Wendy: I hear that the paparazzi photo really caused you some trouble. Sorry. They can be a nightmare. But since I'm so much more used to it than you, and they were probably after me, please let me make it up to you.

  Arlen read it twice. Huh. She still wasn't copping to her hand in it. But she wanted to make it up to him? He texted her back.

  Arlen: Be here tomorrow at 7 for a cook-out. And bring a squeaky-clean guy from a boy band to be your boyfriend. Someone famous enough that my ten year-old will go crazy. And for fuck's sake, act and dress normal.

  He hit send.

  In less than a minute his phone chimed again.

  Wendy: OK

  Chapter 57

  LOLA

  “You called Arlen?” My question comes out as a shriek and I'm ready to collapse across Ray's desk.

  “Well, yes,” Ray explained. “You told me to make sure the cast knew.”

  I claw my first two fingers into my temples to try to stop the tension from banding around my skull.

  Fuck.

  Two weeks since I spent the night with Arlen, and the first thing he hears from me is a message from Ray? A call telling him about a press conference he has to be at? A call from my assistant?! I know Ray has been so much more to Arlen, and so much more to me, but what a way to first hear from me after all this time.

  Especially when I've never responded to that one text he sent me. Kids are here. Everything is wonderful. Thanks. Thinking of you.

  I close my eyes.

  “Sorry, Lola. What can I do to fix this? I could ...”

  My eyes pop open. Oh, God. Now I've turned sassy Ray into my mollifying caregiver. What is happening to me?

  “No,” I chirp, adding a smile. “I should have told you I wanted to call Arlen myself.” I nod at Ray. “It's all good. So … how’d he take it?”

  Ray shrugged. “He’s committed to do whatever he needs to.”

  I nod at Ray but my heart is fluttering madly. Arlen's on board? Even when the kids are here? He must hate that the show is eating into his time with them. But why would he light into Ray about that? Ray isn't the one who's messing with Arlen's life and using a proxy to deliver the news.

  “It's cool,” I tell Ray as I shut myself into my office.

  Arlen. I need to see him, I need to take control.

  Damn. I should have been more proactive when he sent that text. I should have handled it. I should have set the tone for our relationship going forward. But I didn't. And who knows what Arlen is thinking of me because of it. Nothing good, I suspect.

  Now on top of that, Arlen was going to have to answer questions fired at him by the Television Critics of America. He would have to get a babysitter so he could be on a panel with me and the rest of the cast in an event that was nothing but hype for the new season. It wasn’t in his contract. He didn’t have to do it.

  But at least it wasn't dangerous for him to do it. Not really. Not anymore.

  Last week, Wendy finally publicly denied having an affair with Arlen. Even better, the diva harpy troublemaker appeared in public on the arm of Sketch Lavelle, the hot young drummer from the boy band Mix 32.

  Still, Arlen isn't going to want to talk to anyone from the media, no matter who they are. I need to make this okay.

  I should never have let things spiral like this. When I found out about the press conference, I should have gone to see Arlen first thing. The man saved my show—he should have been my first priority.

  But I didn't want to go see him.

  I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. Every bit of me recoiled at the thought of going to Arlen's house and seeing him with his kids. Seeing him happy. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not when I know it's a happiness I can never share. A happiness I'm going to have to crush with the truth.

  Wait. Crush?

  No, I could never crush Arlen. Dent, maybe. But nothing I can say to him can crush him. Right? He couldn't possibly care that much. Not about me. He couldn't.

  But it doesn't matter—at least not today. I won't be saying anything devastating today.

  I work feverishly for the next six hours until darkness falls. Finally, I leave the office and head toward Bungalow Heaven. I pull the Tesla to the curb a few houses away from Arlen's place and look at the clock on the dash.

  9:14.

  Will the kids be in bed? Will Arlen be in the middle of reading to them or something like that? Hmmm. They're … te
n and twelve. Parents don't still read to ten and twelve year-olds, I don't think. Maybe they're all watching a movie. Or old seasons of Ups and Downs.

  I pick up my phone and text Arlen. I'm outside. Can you come out for a few minutes? I want to talk about the press conference.

  I take a deep breath, hoping he's somewhere near his phone. My cell chimes.

  Arlen: Yes.

  I get out of the car and walk up the block toward his cozy little craftsman filled with his family.

  As I stand in the shadow of a big tree at the corner of his yard, I see the front curtains swish open. Two kids lounge across the couch, blanketed by the snoozing Nick and Nora. Ella and Matteo are mesmerized by whatever they're watching on TV. The front door opens and Arlen steps out. He hasn't turned on the porch light, but I can see him in the glow from the street light in front of his house.

  I swallow. He looks different. His dark eyes don't look so serious. And his gait is lighter, as if he has a bounce in his step.

  He cuts a path across the yard right toward me. Did he see me from the house? Does he have killer night vision? Or am I just way obvious standing under this tree?

  He stops about four feet from me, just at the edge of the tree's shadow.

  “I need to stand where you're standing,” he says.

  I don't move. He needs to stand here? Where I'm standing? Is he saying—

  “To see the kids.”

  “Oh, right,” I say quickly, getting out of his way and standing to face him, my back to the house now.

  I stand there looking at him, but I don't say anything.

  “Make it quick, Lola.” He says it in a quiet, even voice. Not snippy. Not angry. Not justifiably pissed-off.

  “I'm sorry I had Ray call you. When I told him to alert the cast, I didn't mean you. I wanted to talk to you myself.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I'm sorry about the press conference cutting across your time with the kids.”

  “Okay.”

  “It's not in your contract. You don't have to go if you don't want to.”

  “I know. But I'll go.”

  “But—”

  “We both know it'll be more time and trouble if I don't.”