Your Fallen Star: Under the Stars Book 1

by Raleigh Ruebins

  I cringed as soon as she said the name. I nodded, very slightly, not wanting any attention drawn to me.

  And thank God, she must have been able to tell—because she removed her hand from my arm and dropped her voice lower, calming down.

  “Sorry, don’t mean to make a big deal. But I am gonna go see if we can find a table for you and your date right away, Leo. Really, it’s so great to see you here at Persimmon.”

  She glided away before I could protest, and when I turned back to Jamie, his jaw was open wide.

  I shook my head. “You should probably close your mouth, Jamie.”

  He did, but a smile remained. “Well damn if I don’t feel fancy. Guess there’s perks to being with you, Leo, huh?”

  “Far more drawbacks than perks,” I said, looking back toward the front doors.

  A minute later, the hostess came back, and motioned for us to come in as subtly as possible. I really liked her, I decided.

  And I liked her even more when I saw the table she had procured for us: semi-private, in a low-traffic corner of the restaurant, and the least amount of eyes on me as possible.

  I really didn’t need that kind of treatment—I wasn’t at all that level of celebrity anymore—but God, I appreciated it.

  She sat us down and soon after, a complimentary bottle of wine arrived at the table.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jamie said after the waiter had disappeared. “This is the treatment.”

  It was nice, sure, but Jamie was far more excited about it than I was. The lighting was low in the restaurant, and a candle on the table framed Jamie in a soft glow. I caught myself staring at him as he pored over the menu. When he lifted his eyes to mine I freaked out and looked down, thankful as ever for the dim lighting. I could feel myself blushing. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  It was very typical of me to have what amounted to a schoolgirl’s crush on my young, cute biographer. Eric had said it earlier: I fell for unavailable people almost exclusively, and I’m sure a therapist would have a field day telling me why.

  “What are you gonna get?” Jamie asked. “I’m going for the seared ahi tuna.”

  I hadn’t really even looked over the options. “Uh… probably just a salad. I ate a huge lunch today.”

  I took a swig of wine. I wasn’t planning on drinking at all, after last night, but the wine was free and it really would be rude if I didn’t have some.

  The waiter came and took our orders. Jamie was charming the pants off the waiter, I could tell; he asked about the specials, the soups, the appetizers, and then ended up getting the same thing he’d already decided on.

  After Jamie and the waiter had traded enough laughing banter, Jamie turned back and had a sip of wine, looking at me. I realized that he had left the top buttons of his shirt open, and the skin that showed looked milky smooth.

  “You okay?” I heard him say.

  I met his eyes. “What?”

  “Nothing, just, your eyes looked all glazed over for a second.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, how was your day?” he asked.

  I looked at him blankly. “I thought you said we didn’t have to make small talk.”

  His eyes looked down and then up again. “I just actually wanted to know how your day went, but okay.”

  I felt a kick in my gut. I was so not used to making conversation with normal, nice people. It was almost funny how much better of a person Jamie was than me.

  There was another pause and then Jamie’s eyes widened as he began rooting through his shoulder bag.

  “Oh! I totally forgot, I brought you something,” he said.

  I couldn’t for the life of me think of what he might be talking about, but two seconds later, he was plopping down two huge bags of gummy bears and gummy worms in front of me.

  He was grinning again. “I, uh… I saw that you liked them when I was doing some research last night. I was in an international grocery store earlier today and saw these—they are the best German gummy candies. I think you’ll like them.”

  Was it normal to nearly be brought to tears by a packet of gummy worms?

  Because, to be honest, that was what was about to happen to me. I don’t know where the fuck Jamie would have read something like that, I couldn’t even remember having told anyone how gummies were my favorite thing ever, but here they were, right in front of me.

  A gift. He’d brought me a gift. It was the smallest gesture, but it meant that Jamie had been thinking of me—anyone had been thinking of me, and not in the context of how pathetic I was or how I looked when I used a Blade-Chopper.

  I swallowed, steeling my face, and smiled. “I know exactly what these are. When we did our world tour in 2002 I fucking lived on these in Europe. Fuck yeah, Jamie, thank you.”

  “No problem. I know you’re kinda hesitant on the biography thing, but, I don’t want you to hate me too much. So enjoy the gummy bribe.”

  Jamie could get up, drive to my home, and burn the goddamn thing to the ground, and I still wouldn’t hate him. Okay, I’d miss my piano, and maybe the bed. But God, if only Jamie knew how far from hating him I really was.

  I opened a packet of the gummy bears right there on the table of the fancy restaurant, and chased a couple handfuls with the rest of the wine in my glass. I poured myself another generous glass, and topped off Jamie’s as well. I was almost disturbed by how I had reacted to Jamie’s random gesture of kindness, and I tried to drown it out with more wine.

  The salad was good, but small; the wine and the gummies were better. As we ate, Jamie actually asked me some questions, his voice recorder sitting on the table between us, the little red light indicating that it was on and listening.

  His first few questions were simple, but he needed to ask them: where was I from (Michigan), how did I like it (not very much), did I have any siblings (no).

  “This one’s a little less easy,” Jamie said, a knowing twinkle in his eyes—was I getting drunker, or was he getting more beautiful? “What was high school like? What were you like back then?”

  I took another sip of wine and sat back in my chair. Then I reached out and took another sip. “It sucked. I was shy as hell, introverted, all that good stuff. I was really thin and mousy-looking back then. I didn’t have a lot of friends, so not much has changed there.”

  He nodded. “Did you have hobbies?”

  “I played piano in my free time, but nobody at school knew that. Wasted hours on video games like any other kid in the 90s. …Um, this is kind of embarrassing, but I was also really into building models of things. You know, like those kits you can buy at hobby stores, and build a model ship, or a model castle, or spaceship from Star Wars? I did all that stuff.”

  Jamie’s smile made me want to melt into the floor again. I drank more wine instead.

  “How’d you get into building the models?”

  I wondered how to put it politely to Jamie. “It was… basically one of the few things my dad wanted to do with me when I was a younger kid. Guess that sounds kind of sad, but it’s true. He’d spend hours on it with me, teaching me how to do it. I always liked the days when he was in the mood to put them together, because I knew he wouldn’t start drinking until we were finished.”

  Jamie nodded, his smile disappearing. It was alarming. There was a reason I didn’t talk about my dad a lot—I didn’t need pity. I needed to distract him again.

  “Best part about high school, though, was turning 18 and then losing my virginity on a rooftop in Chicago.”

  My distraction tactic worked again. Jamie’s eyes shot wide open.

  “I had just found out I got into 5*Star, and I was gonna be able to leave high school early and pursue a music career. I was on top of the world. Went out to some party for the record label in Chicago, and met some other recording artist who was briefly on the label. I literally don’t even remember his real name, so don’t ask.”

  Jamie nodded, his smile returning.

  “Anyway. He was hot, he was two years older than me,
and we went up to the rooftop and he asked me to fuck him. He was one of those dudes who carries around packets of lube and condoms at all times in his wallet. Which, come to think of it… I’m one of those dudes now.”

  Jamie’s choked slightly on a sip of wine. Shit. I was saying too much. The alcohol was going to my head.

  “Point of the story is, that guy clearly kept his mouth shut about me, because obviously nobody else found out I was into dudes until a decade later. As I’m sure you’re aware.”

  Jamie nodded.

  The waiter came back with a second bottle of wine. “I know the first bottle was for Mr. Stone,” he said, in a thick French accent, “But this bottle is for you.” He looked at Jamie with a radiant smile, and Jamie was incredulous.

  “Wow, thank you!” he said, and the waiter walked away, not before giving Jamie a wink.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Wow is right. He is… really laying it on thick.”

  He smirked at me. “You jealous, Leo?”

  My face burned.

  “You are, you’re totally jealous. Your mouth is doing that pouty thing,” he said. I was done for. He’d found me out.

  “You’re used to all the free wine being for you, huh?” Jamie said.

  Thank God. I hadn’t even cared about the wine, but that’s what Jamie had meant by “jealous.” I forced out a laugh. “Yep, doesn’t he know I’m the former celebrity here?”

  “The waiter’s clearly just a nice guy,” he said.

  “You should probably get his phone number.”

  His face scrunched up, and he shook his head. “Hell no. He’s cute, but not my type.” Jamie poured more wine for the both of us, and I realized that I was well on my way to drunk. “We’re working tonight, anyway. No matter how much free wine we have.”

  I shouldn’t have been relieved that Jamie wasn’t going to hook up with the hot French waiter.

  But I was. And that was disturbing on a deep level.

  Six

  Jamie

  It was probably the fanciest night of my fucking life.

  Oh my God, the food, the free wine, the candlelit dinner with a celebrity? Who was I?

  I knew one thing I was: drunk. I was doing my best not to let it show, to maintain a good poker face and be a good, responsible writer, conducting an interview with his client over dinner.

  But inside I’d been on cloud nine all night.

  I could tell Leo was getting drunker by the minute, too; he’d been tossing wine back and revealing more about himself every minute. Part of me felt special, like I was seeing a side of him that most people didn’t.

  I ordered a dessert of chocolate mousse and coffee, determined to sober up a little and stay professional. But when it came, I nearly lost myself in it, forgetting to even speak for a few moments as I ate the luxurious dark chocolate slowly.

  “So I told you what I was like in high school,” Leo said, drinking wine. “What about you? Considering you only finished high school, like, four years ago. Good God.”

  “I was a nerd,” I said, between spoonfuls of mousse. “Surprise surprise. Straight-A student, overachiever, all that stuff. But my school was pretty small and I’d known everyone there my whole life, so, didn’t get bullied or anything.”

  “Nerd or not, you’re too good-looking to have gotten bullied.”

  I lifted my eyes to meet Leo’s. Had he just willingly said I was good-looking?

  “Yeah, but I don’t have any fancy sex-on-a-rooftop stories like you do. Jesus Christ.”

  He puffed out a laugh. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled—when he genuinely smiled—and it kind of was the sweetest thing ever, so I looked back down at my dessert.

  “So what is your story then?” he said.

  “My story? Like my life story or the story of losing my virginity?”

  “Either one, but I meant the second.”

  I paused, scraping the last of the chocolate from the bowl. “Nowhere near as cool as yours. Sophomore year of college. In a dorm. Awkward and not much fun. Just was glad I got it over with.”

  Leo nodded.

  “I stayed with him, though, ‘til senior year. Actually only broke up, like, 2 months ago.” I had told myself I wouldn’t talk about my ex, but here I was, pouring it out to Leo Stone in the middle of my otherwise magical night.

  “Sorry to hear that,” he said, in a rare moment of sincerity. “Was it mutual?”

  I shrugged, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Not really? He, uh… didn’t like that I wanted to move to Los Angeles. Didn’t like what I wanted to do here, that is.”

  “Why not? He must have known you were a writing major….”

  “He did, but he thought I would be better off doing technical writing. ‘Business to business blogging.’ He didn’t particularly like that I wanted to write screenplays in Hollywood. Said it was too idealistic and told me I’d most likely fail.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, what an asshole,” Leo blurted out, his brow furrowed. He looked up at me from under his lashes. “Sorry, not trying to badmouth your ex, but… fuck that.”

  I shrugged. “No, it’s refreshing to hear. So many people in college agreed with him, and said it was too hard to make a go of things out in L.A., and said I was making a huge mistake.”

  A corner of Leo’s mouth turned up into a smile. “And now look at you. At a restaurant with me, dealing with my drunk, sorry ass.”

  I smiled. “No kidding. Now I have the fucking coolest job ever. And I’m still trying to get my screenplay out there, too.”

  “You have dreams and goals, and you set out to achieve them,” Leo said, shaking his head and sighing. He hitched an arm up onto the table and rested his head in his hand, looking at me lazily. I realized he definitely was drunk. “I remember when I had dreams and goals.”

  “Oh, you can shut up right about now,” I said, adding a smile after his eyes widened. “You’re only 36. You act like your life is over, but it’s so far from that.”

  He rolled his eyes, then pointed them down toward the table, the yellow glow of the candle reflecting off of them.

  “I’m serious. I think the best of your career is still in front of you, Leo.”

  He reached out onto the table and pressed the little button on the voice recorder so that it stopped recording. I hadn’t even remembered the damn thing was there. He then raised his eyes again to meet mine, this time with not an ounce of bitterness in them.

  “You’re like, a fucking nice person, Jamie,” Leo said. He was looking at me like he couldn’t quite understand it.

  “Oh. Thanks. I’m just… regular,” I said. What the hell else could I say to that?

  “No,” he shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. “You’re all kinds of things. Regular dudes couldn’t deal with this,” he said, gesturing at himself.

  I scoffed. It was my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m sure I could find about fifty ‘regular dudes’ just on this block who would jump on you at a moment’s notice.” I bit my tongue after the words came out of my mouth, not meeting his eyes. I took another swig of the dregs of wine in my glass.

  Thank God he broke the silence. “Not quite. Try telling that to the year-long dry spell I’ve been in.”

  I laughed, but he didn’t, and then I realized that he was actually being serious. “That can’t be true,” I said.

  “Believe it,” he said. “Nobody’s interested.”

  I think the absurdity of his statement was what led me to say something far more absurd, far more inappropriate. But some combination of the wine and the night made me do it.

  “Give me a break. If I was just some dude who saw you on the street, I’d want to drag you home and fuck until neither of us could walk the next day.”

  I felt my heartbeat lurch as soon as I said it, and my eyes grew just as wide as his did. I almost started to feel a sort of vertigo, whether from the wine or just myself, and I quickly grabbed the untouched glass of water on the table and gulped it down.


  “God, I’m sorry,” I muttered out, not even able to look him in the eye. I got up out of my seat. “Just a second,” I said, excusing myself.

  “Jamie. Hey—Jamie—” Leo said, but I was already walking away from the table, my head spinning, trying to locate the restrooms.

  Fuck. Fuck, fucking goddamn shit, fuck.

  I found sweet hostess from earlier in the night and asked where the restroom was. I must have looked like shit because her face seemed kind of terrified, and she quickly pointed toward the bathrooms near the front of the restaurant.

  As I walked past the tall windows at the front of the store, I noticed an enormous crowd of middle-aged men, dressed in black, all with cameras slung around their necks. There must have been at least twenty of them, crowded around the curb outside.

  Paparazzi.

  There were way too many of them to be for Leo, but there had to be some other explanation. I craned my neck around, sweeping my eyes over the tables, and then I saw why: Angelina Jolie was there, eating dinner with some other woman, in all her gorgeous glory.

  She was strikingly beautiful, but I couldn’t exactly care about it right at that moment. I hurried into the restroom and leaned over the sink, clutching the cold marble and making an attempt at deep breathing exercises.

  Okay. Okay. I’d fucked up, that was for sure. But Leo had fucked up, too, right? He’d been the one blushing and running out of the room yesterday. Maybe he would consider us even now.

  It didn’t make me feel any better.

  I splashed cold water on my face and dried off with a towel, looking at myself in the mirror. The room had stopped spinning, finally, and I think the coffee had kicked in. A nervous buzz ran through my veins instead of the sluggishness of alcohol—but I was still filled with shame.

  When I got back to the table, Leo was standing up. When he saw me walking back, he stumbled slightly, and I realized he had finished the entire rest of the bottle of wine while I’d been gone.

  “I, uh, I paid for everything, so, you’re good, Jamie,” he said. “Have a good night. We can catch up, I dunno, tomorrow.”