Royal Stripper

by Sienna Valentine

  To me, that part was completely justifiable. Tory steals everything from everyone else, I’m taking this from her.

  In retrospect, it was still pretty awful, regardless of how much of a bitch Tory was to everyone around her. She was probably lonely at home, since both of her folks worked. She likely came to school looking for a family, for companionship, and although she ended up creating her own posse by ordering other girls around and yelling at them, I have a feeling she only did it because that was all she knew.

  The part in the commercial didn’t even have any lines, but that was actually a good thing since I hadn’t prepared at all. I’m sure I would have never been able to remember them. All I recall is being so terrified of running into Tory Lerner and what I would say, or of screwing up my audition by being clumsy, or not charming enough, or spitting my cereal out in the middle of a bite. Still, I managed to put on a brave face and convince my parents that this was something I really wanted to do.

  They were naturally stunned, given that I had never really expressed any interest in acting, but my dad still agreed after asking me about a million times if I was sure that this was something I wanted to do.

  The audition was between 3-6pm, and the waiting room was filled with girls and boys my age, but somehow I got there before Tory’s runner of a father swooped in to use any connections he may have to help her get the part. While we were waiting, I learned more about what they were actually looking for by listening in on some of the other parents as they coached their children on how to act.

  Luckily, the producers were looking for charming and cute, and those were adjectives I’d heard used to describe me my entire life. They just wanted a quiet, unassuming kid to eat some cereal, drink some juice, and run for the bus. According to that, I should have been a shoe in, but no matter how many times I tried to talk myself into confidence, I felt nervous butterflies fluttering around my stomach, waiting to take flight.

  It wasn’t until I heard my name called that I finally felt something come over me that I really didn’t know was there. Confidence bloomed, my fears fell away, and I just spoke. I totally owned that audition. I was charming, my voice loud and clear, and my dimples and blue eyes did the job of winning me the cute factor. Leaving that room, I felt like the world was mine.

  By the time I got back to the car with my dad, I no longer felt like this was something I was stealing from Tory Lerner. I had gone in there and done my best, and now I felt like this was mine to lose. It wasn’t about revenge anymore. In fact, now I was more focused on how I wasn’t going to let Tory steal it away from me. In my ten-year-old brain, the whole thing took on some air of over-inflated importance, as if the audition were a symbol of my humanity, and I was defending it not only for myself, but for every shy girl that was forced to hide out in the corner of the recess gym.

  Of course, after we left my self-doubt and anxiety began to return, and I begged my dad to stop at Clarks for ice cream. It always made me feel better, made the world feel right as rain, made the country feel like the good ol’ US of A again—that’s what my dad, forever the patriot, always said when he meant that something was put right.

  The ice cream helped a little, but I was still shaking as we drove back home that afternoon. In the span of only a few hours I had accidentally discovered something I really wanted to do with my life, built up unreasonable hopes and expectations about it, and was now experiencing the crushing feeling of impending failure and disappointment.

  I had no idea that by the time we got home from ice cream the casting director would have already called and left a message for a callback with my mother. I went on to get that role, my first. I was so proud, so confident after that. My whole life felt like it had changed overnight, I had the wind at my back.

  The next day, Tory Lerner was pretty sad at school over not getting a callback, and I remember hearing later that her father actually banned her from going on further auditions because “she wasn’t acting material”.

  I remember being angry when I heard that, thinking about how she deserved better than a father that didn’t believe in her. My dad always believed in me, no matter what. And although I knew that her not getting the commercial wasn’t my fault, I’d never stopped feeling kind of bad about going after that role. Just a stupid OJ commercial.

  And now here I was. Back at Clarks. Back at the beginning of it all. And maybe at the end of it all, too.

  Yet I was just sipping my coffee calmly, like the world was normal and hadn’t gone mad all around me. Just like I sat eating ice cream years ago, when everything made sense and I had nothing but brightness in my future.

  But instead of sitting with my father discussing the what-ifs of getting a callback, I was listening to Bennett Campbell telling me that we should pretend to be married.

  Again.

  Well, at least this time I’d be in on the joke.

  Could I really do it, though? After everything he’d done to me, after he’d hurt me so badly by his lie—his prank—could I really stand next to him and pretend to marry him? If I could, I was a better actress than I knew.

  On the other hand, what choice did I have? What other options were there? Continue to hide out until it blew over? Who knew how long that would take, how long the next scandal would take to come along and replace my own public shame—especially when Fiona’s tell-all was likely to keep me in the news for who knows how long. By then I might be a has-been. A washed-up child star. I might never escape this if I just sat back and tried to wait it out.

  Besides, there was something appealing about this idea of creating my own narrative. The studio had said I didn’t fit their family-friendly image. Well, maybe it was time my image got a makeover. Maybe it was time for me to take control of my own life, my own career. Make my own headlines.

  Lovestruck Ingénue Runs Off With Handsome Bad Boy had a dramatic flair to it that I liked. I could practically see the magazine spread, and my mind was already spinning out possibilities of who the best source to break the news would be for my image. US Weekly would get it out soonest, but People would be a little classier. TMZ could bite my ass for how quickly they plastered their site with news of my disgrace.

  Was this crazy? Maybe so, but it could also very well work.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this,” I said.

  “Hey, at least you’re sober this time.”

  I really felt like he deserved the creamer I chucked at his face.

  “If it’s the only way, it’s the only way. Let’s make it feel like the good ol’ US of A again,” I said with a chuckle.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just something my dad likes to say…”

  Chapter 26

  Bennett

  I’d given my fair share of interviews in my life, but I hadn’t ever been in the position to be looking for someone to interview me. Not to mention, I was usually featured in something like Wired, not WetPaint. I thought, though, that a girl I’d gone to college with had ended up writing for one of the slightly more reputable gossip sites. It took me a while to dig up her email address, but once I had, I found myself with an appointment for the next day.

  Saturday brunch with Alyssa Morgan was not something I’d ever expected to do. Alyssa was almost exactly as I’d remembered her, if a little more polished. Her dark hair was swept up into a bun that was deliberately casual, and she wore a pencil skirt and peacock blue silk blouse. Given the subject of the interview, I was fairly certain she knew this wasn’t supposed to be a date, but she definitely looked good.

  “What made you decide to tell your story?” she asked over omelets, her digital recorder balanced between us on a salt shaker.

  Of the two of us, Ava was obviously the one with the acting chops, but I felt like I could hold my own for this. Especially given that a lot of what I figured we’d be talking about would be Ava, and that was a subject I couldn’t get enough of, and all of my feelings toward her were genuine, even if they weren’t reciproc
ated anymore.

  “Ava’s been having a hard time lately, and a lot of that is because we’ve been keeping things quiet. It’s my fault, of course. I wanted to stay out of the public eye.” I laughed sheepishly. At least, I hoped it was sheepish. “I guess I should have known better when I married Ava Cassidy.”

  Alyssa smiled, red lips twisting crookedly. “So that’s why you kept the press from the ceremony?”

  “Right, well to keep it a secret, we didn’t invite anybody, really. Just family and very close friends.”

  “And where did this fairytale wedding take place?”

  “At my ranch, near Fresno,” I said, drinking some coffee in an attempt to look more casual. There was a lot riding on this interview, and I wouldn’t normally be nervous, but this would affect Ava more than me, and that significantly raised the stakes, as far as I was concerned.

  “Any plans for a honeymoon?”

  “Not really,” I shook my head as I moved off script a little. “Ava’s so busy right now. She’s got offers coming in all over the place, and it just didn’t seem fair to take away from her career opportunities just so I could have her all to myself. We’ll honeymoon when things slow down a little for her.”

  That had been Layla’s idea, actually. She’d said that if we floated the idea that people were after Ava for bigger parts, she’d start getting calls again. She argued that while the old adage that any publicity was good publicity wasn’t strictly true, what was true was that if one studio believed that another studio wanted you, it made you far more attractive than if no studio wanted you. To me, studios sounded a lot like high school relationships.

  Still, I was more than willing to give it a shot. If my fuck up with Ava could end up helping her career in even the smallest way, I was all for it.

  “So it sounds like you’re left all alone, then, while she’s off pursuing her career….” I could hear her voice smooth out as she said the words. She was either flirting, or trying to offer me an excuse to dish more gossip about Ava. But I wasn’t going to take her bait. I still had more of my own to offer.

  I shrugged. “To be honest, it feels like the last few months have been a honeymoon, we’ve been spending so much time together. We really weren’t even planning on going public with this now, but we figured it was better to give our side of the story, now that Ken and Fiona are out there trying to create rumors in order to hype her new book.”

  Alyssa eyed me shrewdly, and I wondered if I’d overdone it until she asked “You’re referring to Ken, Ava’s ex manager and boyfriend? When did all of that end, and how is he linked to Fiona?”

  “I haven’t a clue how long he and Fiona have been together, although I would imagine they’ve probably had something going on since they first worked together over a decade ago. I can’t remember the name of the program, but come to think of it, there was some sort of scandal with the young star of that show as well…. “

  I paused for a moment, as if in thought, hoping to give Alyssa enough time to begin to connect the dots on that one. “Anyway, Ava found out they were cheating on her and dumped him months ago, but the press just assumed they were still together. Probably because she didn’t fire him. She’s said that was her biggest mistake in this whole thing, not getting that slime bag out of her life completely. Of course, we could have never guessed how jealous he’d get when he found out how serious Ava and I were becoming. Guess he wasn’t that serious about Fiona after all. But to think he would stoop to taking those pictures and leaking them….” I just shook my head and shrugged.

  “Anyway, then we heard Fiona was writing a book, and we figured enough was enough. It was better for us to air all of Ava’s secrets before Fiona had a chance to cash in on them, so here we are. Aside from her cheating manager taking secret pictures of her, her only other dirty little secret is me.” I laughed, hoping to sound genuinely amused. “The mystery husband who spirited America’s Sweetheart away to his private ranch because he’s madly in love with her and wanted to have her all to himself for a little while. Is that enough of a story for you?”

  Alyssa sat quietly for a moment, then took a slow sip of her mimosa. I held my breath, waiting for her to speak. Finally, she nodded. “So have you two thought about kids yet?”

  “She bought it?”

  Ava’s voice on the line was incredulous but happy. I’d take that over ice cold any day.

  “Hook, line, and proverbial sinker.”

  “Did she say when the interview would be released?”

  “Later today, she thought. She was going to text me when it was up.” Even as I was speaking, my phone vibrated to let me know I had a message. “And… it looks like it’s up.”

  “Already? Wow, that was fast.” I heard the sound of a keyboard clacking. “Oh my god, it’s already been tweeted.”

  “Things move fast on the Internet,” I laughed.

  “And retweeted!” Ava was laughing too, and I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest just hearing that sound again. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  “You seriously underestimate my acting abilities,” I teased.

  There was a pause, and when her answer came, her voice was flat. “No, I’ve seen them first hand.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I could only apologize so many times, only think of so many different ways to call myself an asshole. I deserved it, of course. I deserved to hear the happiness slide out of her voice every time she thought of me. I deserved to have her despise me. I deserved to have her refuse to ever be in the same room with me. Hell, I could barely handle my own company most of the time these days.

  But I was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I had lost one of the only people I had ever truly let myself become vulnerable with—the only person I maybe even loved—just because of my terribly childish and selfish coping mechanism. Especially when it was the very same coping mechanism that I had developed to help deal with losing the only other person in my life I had ever truly loved. My brother.

  Would I ever be able to face myself if I didn’t work every day of my life to try and win her back?

  Before I could think of any response, she said, quietly, “So what now?”

  “Now we wait,” I said. “Don’t talk to any reporters. Don’t confirm, don’t deny. Let it flood the tabloids for a day or two. Then, when the media frenzy is at its peak, release a statement that we’re happily married and very much in love.”

  Something in my chest twisted hard when I said those words. It wasn’t true. We weren’t in love. At least, Ava didn’t love me. I... wasn’t sure I’d ever been in love before now. I didn’t know how to recognize it. This whole idea felt insane, but what else could I do? I would never be able to live with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to make things right for her. I just had this overwhelming feeling that made me want to do anything she asked of me. Maybe that was the beginning of real love.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice soft. “Then we wait.”

  The media storm hit just a day after my interview went live. I got a text from Ava the next morning telling me her publicist was getting calls non-stop and wanted Ava to make a statement. We agreed not to wait any longer, and her publicist set her up with an interview in People.

  About an hour after the scheduled interview, she called me back.

  “Well?” I asked, giddy and excited and nervous all at once. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so invested in a prank. At least this one was designed to do some good for someone other than myself.

  “They want to do a whole spread on us,” she said. “Photo shoots, wedding albums, the works.” She didn’t sound particularly happy.

  “That sounds great,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is they want pictures from our wedding, Bennett. We don’t have pictures. There was never a wedding.”

  “So we’ll throw one,” I said. “We’ll go back to the ranch and throw a whole shindig.”

  There was
silence on the line, then, “Shindig?”

  I heard it. Somewhere beneath the ice there was something else. Amusement? Almost-warmth? It was a start.

  “Yeah, you know. A hoedown. A hootenanny.”

  “I’m not having a hootenanny for a wedding, even a fake one.” She might be protesting, but at least she was laughing, too. Despite myself, I could feel my heart start to soar again.

  “How ’bout a jamboree?”

  Now she was really laughing. “Definitely not a jamboree.”

  We were both quiet again, but it felt comfortable this time. I wished I was there with her, running my fingers through her hair, feeling the weight of her head on my chest.

  “Can we really pull this off?” she asked eventually.

  “Sounds like a colossal prank to me, Sunshine,” I said. “I’m game if you are.”