by Susannah Nix
Griffin was panicking.
He’d spent every minute since their conversation in a state of constant, stomach-churning anxiety. By the time Wednesday rolled around—the day of Sabrina’s late-afternoon arrival—he was positive he was developing an ulcer.
At five thirty, one of the PAs—a sweet kid named Ashley with a bulldog tattoo on her ankle—let Griffin know his agent had been given a temporary pass at security and escorted to his trailer as he’d requested. He thanked her and popped another antacid as he waited for the director of photography and his crew to finish lighting the shot.
“You’re sweating more than usual,” his makeup artist, Zaundra, said, narrowing her sharp eyes at him as she blotted his brow and gave him an extra dusting of powder. “You feeling okay, hon?”
“Not really,” Griffin said.
It was an hour and a half before they got the shot to Jerry’s satisfaction and Griffin was able to get back to his trailer. Sabrina was waiting for him, having made herself at home by setting up a temporary workstation at his desk. She spun her chair around, sliding her reading glasses off as he let himself into the trailer.
“Aren’t you looking fit as a bloody trout?” She rose and greeted him with a double cheek kiss before giving him an appraising once-over.
“How was your flight?” Griffin asked, enduring her inspection for a count of three before going to the fridge for a protein drink.
“Horrid, but that’s commercial travel for you.” She slid back into her seat, reaching up to pat her sleek, straw-colored hair. Sabrina had to be well into her fifties, but thanks to the miracle of Botox, she hardly looked a day over thirty.
Griffin flopped down on the dark gray couch and cracked the seal on his drink. “So? Am I in trouble?”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Lord, no. Is that what you thought?”
“Something brought you all the way out here.”
“I’m here because of Kimbergriff.”
He stared at her like she’d started speaking in tongues. “What?”
“That’s the portmanteau you and your costar have been given. I assume you know about the photo of you two leaving an Atlanta hotspot together?”
Griffin grimaced as he choked down a mouthful of protein drink. “I haven’t seen it, but someone told me about it.” He was still pissed Alice had seen that. She’d sounded weird on the phone, and he hadn’t been able to figure out if it was because of that damned photo, or because of whatever it was he’d said in his drunken voicemail. Or maybe both.
“The two of you were looking very cozy outside that nightclub.”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was a platonic goodbye kiss. If the paps caught it, then they also caught me getting into a car by myself and going home alone.” Although they seemed to have conveniently forgotten that part when they sold the photo.
“Right now, it’s just some speculation and a titillating photo.”
“I wouldn’t call a kiss on the cheek titillating.” Griffin didn’t understand what the big deal was. Even if it had been a real kiss, was it really worth flying all the way out here to berate him about it? What exactly was she worried about?
“The point is, it could be a serious story.” Sabrina paused for dramatic effect. “If we made it one.”
He froze with his drink halfway to his mouth. “What does that mean?”
“The comments are overwhelmingly positive. People are excited at the idea of you and Kimberleigh together.”
Griffin snorted. “Too bad we’re not together, I guess.”
Sabrina arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “What if you were?”
“What if we were what?” An uneasy prickle traveled down the back of his neck.
“Together. As far as the public knew.”
He stared at her in growing horror. “You’re not suggesting—”
“I am.”
“No way.”
Sabrina was silent, appearing to consider her approach. “Hit and Amiss had a one-hundred-fifty-million-dollar opening this weekend. Do you know why?”
“Because it’s a cool-looking movie everyone wants to see?”
She flicked a dismissive hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s trash. That film had no buzz until one half of 2015’s couple of the year left his wife and jumped into bed with his costar. That’s what got people talking about it. Suddenly, everyone wanted to see the movie 2018’s couple of the year fell in love filming.” Sabrina stared at Griffin pointedly.
He felt his hackles rise. “I don’t have a wife to leave and I’m not in love with Kimberleigh.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I’m not telling you to fall in love with her. I’m simply proposing a series of staged photo ops that give the impression you’re dating. Accompanied by a few feeder stories, of course. Possibly followed by an exclusive interview or two.”
Griffin’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.
“If you were simply seen together a few more times,” Sabrina went on. “If the public were led to believe you were an item, it would do wonders for your visibility—and the film’s. It’s win-win.”
“It’s going too far, is what it is,” Griffin said when he’d recovered from his shock enough to speak. “My personal life is not for public consumption.”
The look Sabrina gave him was both affectionate and pitying, the way you’d look at a whiny toddler or a three-legged dog. “Don’t be naive. Of course it is. You’re a commodity, and everything the public thinks they know about you is part of your brand. If you want to play with the big boys, we need to improve your brand.”
“I thought my brand was pretty good,” Griffin said defensively.
“It’s all right, but it could be better. Your star is rising right now, and we need to capitalize on that momentum before something else comes along and knocks you out of the sky. You’re likable, but not as much as you could be. I know you value your privacy, but frankly you’re a bit of a blank slate. You need to give the public a reason to care about you if you want to win their hearts and minds.”
“I’ve been using social media more, and I think it’s going pretty well.”
“Yes, that’s fine, but I’m talking about something big. Social media isn’t going to launch you into the stratosphere unless you put your foot in it and make yourself into a pariah—which is not the kind of attention we want.”
“Then I’ll do more interviews or something.”
Sabrina shook her head. “Interviews can only get you so far if you don’t have an interesting story to sell. You need to give the public a reason to get invested in you.”
“You think a girlfriend makes me interesting?”
“It does if the girlfriend is Kimberleigh Cress.”
“She’s a little young for me, don’t you think?” Griffin was almost thirty-one and Kimberleigh wasn’t even old enough to rent a car, for all that she had the world weariness of someone twice her age.
“Hardly,” Sabrina scoffed.
Griffin felt his lip curl. It was one thing for a twenty-two-year-old to be cast as his love interest on-screen—that decision was out of his hands. But if people thought they were dating in real life, that made him a grown-ass man in his thirties whose taste ran to girls barely past drinking age.
“I’ll be blunt,” Sabrina said, her wrinkle-free face settling into the closest it could get to a frown. “The early buzz on this project is not great. No one’s excited about this movie. It’s got the worst IMDb popularity score of any Jerry Duncan film in the last decade.”
“We’re still in principal photography,” Griffin protested.
“The Nock was in the top two hundred at this stage of production. Right now, this project is hovering around three thousand.”
“Jesus.” Griffin rested his head in his hands. Sabrina had just confirmed the fears he’d been trying to pep talk himself out of for weeks.
“It’s barely registering a blip on the Rotten Tomatoes radar,” Sabrina went on, putting more nails
in the coffin. “There’s nothing but resounding silence on Reddit, Twitter, and Facebook. The only place anyone is talking about this film is Kimberleigh’s tag on Tumblr, and even her die-hard fans aren’t particularly excited about it.”
Griffin set his jaw stubbornly. “I’m not pimping myself out to save Jerry Duncan’s ass.” It wasn’t his fault this film was a steaming turd, and there was a part of him that wanted to see Jerry fail after the hell he’d put Griffin through.
“What about your own ass, then? Because if this ship goes down, you’re going down with it. I can promise you the narrative Jerry will spin to the studio is that you’re not a big enough name to carry this film. They will hang this flop around your neck, and you’ll never see another major starring role.”
Griffin had always tried to surround himself with people who’d call him out on his shit—he didn’t want to turn into one of those fame monsters who bought into their own hype—but he wasn’t prepared for that level of bluntness. Sabrina had always been honest with him, but usually she tried to bolster his confidence rather than tear it down.
The expression on his face must really have been something, because she got up and came over to sit beside him, laying her hand over his. “I’m sorry, darling. I don’t mean to be harsh, but you need to face reality and stop being such a prude. All we’re really talking about is a few carefully orchestrated appearances and some interviews. It’s not asking the moon.”
Griffin knew she was probably right, but he still didn’t want to do it. “Kimberleigh will never agree to it.”
“She already has.”
He swiveled his head and blinked at her. “What?”
Sabrina offered a casual shrug. “You don’t think I’d fly out here on a pipe dream, do you? I didn’t even bring this to you until I knew I had her team on board.”
“And you just assumed you’d be able to convince me?”
“Yes. Because you’re a sensible man who cares about his career. Haven’t we built some trust by now? You know I wouldn’t suggest something like this on a whim.”
“And Kimberleigh’s seriously willing to do this?”
“She’s in if you are.”
Griffin slumped back against the couch and rubbed his temples. “Do you really think this film’s going to flop?”
“Not if you save it,” Sabrina said. “This is your shot, Griffin. Your narrow window of opportunity. You need to make sure it sticks—unless you don’t mind sliding back into television obscurity.”
He sighed. “Fine. What do I have to do exactly?”
Sabrina beamed a triumphant smile at him. “I knew you’d see sense! You won’t regret it.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I will.”
16
Things are heating up between Kimberleigh Cress and her costar in the upcoming Jerry Duncan blockbuster Prepare for War—former Las Vegas General actor Griffin Beach.
A source confirms the two spent a romantic Fourth of July together, stepping out for a dinner date at a Japanese restaurant in Atlanta, where Cress was photographed breaking out in laughter as she held hands with Beach. After dinner, they continued their outing at celeb hot spot Hunky Dory, where they were seen enjoying cocktails and each other’s company until 1:30 a.m.
The pair sparked romance rumors two weeks ago when they were papped leaving an Atlanta nightclub together and looking very much like a couple.
The source told us that Kimbergriff have been spending a lot of time together in Atlanta after finding love on the set of the film they’re shooting together there. Cress plays Beach’s on-screen love interest in the hotly anticipated Prepare for War, and the couple have been sizzling in real life as well as in front of the camera.
“They recently started hanging out, but it’s still very new,” the insider said. “They’re both deliriously happy and just seeing where things go for now.”
I’m so sorry, Rachel had texted Alice, along with the link to the Hot Hollywood Nights piece.
Alice didn’t know what to believe. Two weeks ago Griffin had sworn there was nothing going on with Kimberleigh. But this didn’t sound like nothing. They’d even quoted a source. They wouldn’t just lie about something like that, would they?
There were photographs of the two of them holding hands. And getting into the same car. They’d even given them their own portmanteau.
Kimbergriff.
Alice wanted to vomit.
She might be able to write it off as a couple of friends going out to dinner if it weren’t for the hand-holding. You didn’t hold hands with people who were just your friends. She and Griffin were just friends and he’d never tried to hold her hand. Of course, they’d never gone out to dinner together either—because they weren’t that kind of friends.
Clearly they also weren’t the kind of friends who told each other when they started dating someone. Because he hadn’t once mentioned Kimberleigh or the fact that he was apparently dating her now, despite his previous denial.
He didn’t mention it the next time he called either. Alice kept waiting for him to say something. Offer some sort of explanation for denying it before, or at least admit he’d had a change of heart and relationship status.
Nothing. Not a word.
Alice was too chicken to raise the subject herself. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that must mean he thought it was none of her business. And if they weren’t the kind of friends who told each other things like that, she wasn’t sure what kind of friends they were. Or if they even were friends, really.
She wasn’t sure whether she was more hurt that he’d started dating someone so soon after leaving her that drunken voicemail, or that they weren’t close enough for him to share major developments in his personal life.
Either way, he obviously didn’t have feelings for her, or he wouldn’t have started dating someone else two weeks before he was due to come home.
“I’m home!” Griffin called out as he burst through the front door.
Taco barked in excitement, waggling his whole body as he spun in circles. Griffin left his bags by the door and scooped the dog off the floor, rubbing his face into the soft, familiar fur as he went in search of Alice.
She wasn’t there. The house was dark and empty.
What had he expected? That she’d be waiting at the door to greet him alongside the dog?
A bit, yeah. Griffin had hoped maybe Alice had missed him as much as he’d missed her. That she’d want to see him as soon as he got back. But maybe that was asking too much.
It was a Friday night, after all, and she had a life that didn’t involve him. If she wanted to go out with friends—or even on a date, for all he knew—she was free to do so. She didn’t owe him anything, wasn’t even technically his employee anymore as of tonight.
He might want her to be his girlfriend, but she wasn’t. He didn’t have any right to expect her to be here on the night he came home.
Feeling like the high he’d been riding all day had been punctured, Griffin set Taco down and dragged his bags to his room. It was still a huge relief to be home, back in his own space, but without Alice it felt like something was missing.
Taco hovered at his heel as he unpacked and started a load of laundry. When that was done, Griffin wandered into the kitchen, wondering what to do about dinner. That was where he found the Post-it note Alice had left him.
Welcome back!
Taco’s already had dinner. I’ll be back late.
—A
Well, that was something. Confirmation she’d at least remembered he was coming home tonight. It didn’t explain where she was, or why she’d chosen to go out, but she didn’t really owe him an explanation.
She could do as she chose, and what she’d chosen was not to be home to greet him.
Griffin tossed Taco a dog treat, grabbed a beer for himself, and collapsed onto the couch, feeling dejected.
Alice finally came home three hours later, while he was watching SportsCenter.
“You’re back,”
she said, stepping into the living room.
Griffin got to his feet, planning to hug her, but stopped when she didn’t move toward him. He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled instead. “I’m back.”
“How was your flight?”
“Good. Fine.”
This wasn’t the enthusiastic reunion Griffin had been looking forward to. He hadn’t spoken to Alice as much these last couple weeks, in part because the intensity of his schedule had started catching up with him, leaving him drained and exhausted, but also because he’d been avoiding telling her about the arrangement he’d made with Kimberleigh. He’d been trying to avoid even thinking about the Kimberleigh thing, because with everything else stressing him out, it had been too much to deal with.
But now he was back and it felt like Alice had pulled away from him. Like they’d somehow grown apart over the last few weeks when he wasn’t looking, and he hated it.
“I’ll bet Taco was happy to see you,” she said.
“He was.” Are you? Griffin bit down on his lip to keep the words from slipping out.
“The house is still standing.” She gestured around them. “As you can see.”
“Looks like you took good care of it.”
“I tried.”
“Where were you?” He tried not to let it sound like an accusation.
“Campus.”
He thought she hated going to campus. But maybe that had changed while he was gone. He guessed maybe a lot had changed while he was gone. “How’s the dissertation?”
She shrugged. “You know. Coming along.” Her gaze fell on the pizza box sitting open on the coffee table and her eyebrows lifted. “Pizza, huh?”
“The diet for the next movie starts Monday. I figured I deserved to treat myself in the meantime.”
“You definitely do.”
“You want some?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna head to bed.”
His head dipped in a single nod. “Sure.”