How to Hide a Hollywood Star

by Avoca Gardener

  “Do you know where they are?

  “Thanks for your call Jo. As I said, I’m not making any comments.”

  One down five to go. The remaining calls followed much the same script though several of the journalists were far more aggressive with their questioning and annoyed when I produced the no comment response.

  I’d left the most notorious journalist to last. Gossip King Roger Smyth, had a syndicated column and he also appeared regularly on radio and television to promote his particular brand of celebrity tattletale. I didn’t like the things Roger wrote about but I had to admit his research was impeccable and his contact book was extensive.

  If anyone was going to find Cinderella’s dropped shoe it was Roger. And while not being identified at all was my preference, if I had to be unmasked, at least I could tell the truth about it and explain it was a big misunderstanding. I phoned Roger back. If he had my name, then I could clear all this crazy up.

  “Roger, hello, Andi Carrington returning your call.”

  “Ah Andi. Is that spelt with an i and two rs?”

  Bugger. That was it, he had the story. Why else would the spelling of my name be important? Oh sweary swear word. “Yes, it is,” and to test the theory, “Why is the spelling important?”

  “Oh I think correctly spelling the name of Rush Dawson’s new lover is particularly important, don’t you?”

  “Roger, I need to correct you there. There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not in a relationship with Rush Dawson. It was simply a—”

  The phone was snatched out of my hand.

  “Roger, this is Rush Dawson.”

  I tried to grab it back, but Rush put his hand in the middle of my ribcage and pushed me away, holding me at arm’s distance where I fought to get around him. “Give that back! Give it back now!”

  “You’d be doing me a great personal favour if you didn’t write about Andi and me. We’re keen to avoid further attention. I’m sure you understand.” Rush looked at me and rolled his eyes—at me, at Roger, at what he was saying? He had to know he’s just given Roger a new story. I could hear Roger peppering him questions. Rush held the phone away from his ear and ended the call. He collapsed his elbow and I fell hard up against him, all the air getting knocked out of my lungs, creating lots of extra space for fury to fill.

  Rush grabbed both my arms and pinned them to my sides. “I couldn’t let you deny the story, Andi.” He hunkered down so we were eye to eye.

  “You as good as confirmed it by asking for privacy instead. Bad enough you steal my image, now you’ve taken my name. It’ll be everywhere in twenty-four hours.” I pulled free of him and snatched my phone back.

  “I could have sold out your name when I stole your image but I didn’t.”

  “What? I’m supposed to be grateful for that.”

  “I’d have been happy for you to remain the mystery girl, but Roger had the story and I couldn’t have it denied.”

  “Why?” I flung at him, "Didn’t the pictures do a good enough job of hurting your wife?”

  “Not nearly good enough,” he said, low and menacing, before turning and stalking back to the car where Shane and Arch waited.

  How could I ever have felt attracted to that man? I could forgive myself the playful daydreams, made from superficial fairy floss Hollywood images of him, but not the fact that in the flesh he’d physically stirred me. Now the only thing he stirred in me was a desire to get as far away from him as possible.

  17: Aftermath

  In the morning, the smell of smoke still lingered over the valley and Cinderella was unmasked. The national daily newspaper ran a Roger Smyth Exclusive about Rush and his love interest holidaying in a ‘secret’ location. Secret because they didn’t know where we were fortunately. This time there was a name to go with my taxi queue photo. At least it was spelt correctly.

  Within another twelve to twenty-four hours the story update, which was only composed of two meagre facts, Cinderella’s name and that she was somewhere in Australia with Rush, would be picked up and published by the world’s celebrity hounds, gossip writers, radio jocks and entertainment journalists.

  I’d never been so grateful to be out of mobile phone coverage, but Helen called the landline at the house before I’d even buttered my morning toast.

  “I just heard them say on the radio that you are Cinderella! You’re Rush’s new girl. You told me it wasn’t true.”

  “It’s not true. I promise you, it’s a big smelly lie.”

  “So why are they all saying it’s true?”

  How to give her a crash course in publicity 101? “It’s complicated.”

  “But it’s not true?”

  “No, it’s not true.”

  “Pity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he’s... well, he even makes me feel, well, you know...”

  “Aunty Helen!”

  “Sorry dear, but I thought it would be lovely for you to have a really amazing romance, even if it wasn’t a forever thing. Your mother and I, we worry about you. You work so hard. You don’t have enough fun and you’re getting on you know.”

  Craptastic. “Trust me, the Rush Dawson you think you know and the real man are very different. If you knew him like I do, you wouldn’t want me having anything to do with him.”

  “Oh. Should I be worried for you dear? Do you want to come and stay with me instead of at Allambee?”

  “No, it’s a job. It’ll be finished soon and everything will be back to normal.”

  I was counting the hours.

  After breakfast, Simon headed out to the growers’ market and dropped Arch and Shane back into town. Arch was determined to assist with the hall clean-up and Shane wanted to pick up a hired Harley Davidson. I was a liability for these projects which left me alone with Rush. Not the deserted island scenario I’d once imagined. I did consider hiding in my bedroom to avoid him, but sixteen was a long time ago.

  He found me on a deck chair at the pool. “Andi, I wondered if you’d help me with something?”

  Deep breath. Too late now to run and hide under the covers. I told myself to be crisp and professional, crisp and professional.

  “Of course, what can I help you with?” I was thinking he wanted internet access or a grand piano, a left-hand drive car or something equally annoying.

  “I want to rebuild the community hall.”

  “What?” Perhaps there was water in my ears.

  Rush sat on the edge of the chair beside mine. “Not literally rebuild it, but provide the funding to rebuild it.”

  I peered over the top of my sunnies at him. “You want to fund the rebuilding of the hall?”

  He squinted back at me. “Yeah. Is that a good idea?”

  “I don’t know. It might be a good idea, but it’s not for us to decide.”

  “That’s where I need your help first.”

  “First?” What, he had a numbered list?

  “To find out if the town would welcome the idea. No strings. But I think we should help.”

  That was an end to thinking I’d get a swim or some tendon therapy. I had a job to do. If Rush Dawson wanted to fund the rebuilding of the Bangalow community hall, it was the very least the scumbag could do.

  It didn’t need much effort to get Helen motivated. She brought Cathy Donaldson, the head of the Chamber of Commerce to the house an hour later and we hacked out the details over coffee and Simon’s incredible melt in the mouth shortbread biscuits.

  The primary issue was the biggest and the easiest dealt with. Cathy knew who Rush was, well she suspected, and she kept looking at him intently until she stopped the conversation looked at Helen and said, “You bitch! You could’ve told me.” Then she looked at me and grinned, “Lucky girl!”

  Rush jumped in, “Cathy, those pictures, they’re not what you think. Andi is our tour manager and we were just taking a cab. The story is a complete beat up, believe me. I think Andi would rather poke my eyes out with a blunt stick than be romanticall
y linked to me.”

  Cathy looked from Rush to me and back again, tossed her yellow hair, leant forward, patted Rush on the hand and said, “More fool her,” cackling with laughter.

  A blunt stick in the eye would be too good for him I thought. Yesterday he’d been confirming our ‘relationship’ to the country’s biggest gossip and now he was in full denial. I had no idea what his game was, but at least he wasn’t trying to make a liar out of me in front of Helen.

  When Cathy learned the other occupants of Allambee were Shane Horan and Arch Drummond, she nearly choked on her shortbread. While she was enjoying a recovery cup of tea, I pulled Rush aside.

  “I don’t understand. Why was it so important yesterday for the relationship to be real and now you’re denying it?”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought that would make you happier. I know you think I’m a complete bastard for using you but I have no intention of making a liar out of you with the people close to you.”

  “So you only want to make a liar out of me with the rest of the world, is that it?”

  “What I want is to do something good here.” He sighed. “I’d like you to help me, but if you’d prefer not to, I can find another way?”

  Crisp and professional and snide for good measure. “I’d be delighted to help you.” I realised the fee for event management services on top of the tour management fee I could charge would soften the blow of having to work with him.

  With Cathy, we struck an agreement that outside those who needed to know, the fact that Hollywood was hidden in the Bangalow hills would be keep a secret. Luckily it wasn’t in anyone’s interest to have hordes of media crawling all over the town.

  I was still nervous. The town had a newspaper and more dangerous were the hundreds of tourists with cameras, email accounts and Twitter feeds that were passing through. But after seeing Rush’s media management skills yesterday, far be it from me to point out the new risks he was running. I did call Toby and report it. He made it clear anything Rush did was outside the studio’s concerns so long as it didn’t reflect badly on Shane.

  Cathy spent time on the house phone consulting other Chamber of Commerce members, the major, the local priest, the police inspector and the headmasters of the primary and high schools.

  We finalised a deal that looked like this. The town would hold a fundraising event, and as a silent partner Rush would double every dollar the town raised with a donation of his own, plus meet any shortfall in building costs. Rush would fund, and on his behalf, Arrive—that is me—would organise the event, which would be a concert and formal dinner dance, held on site in a temporary marquee in a week’s time, while the town was still full to busting with tourists and their holiday money.

  As we waved Cathy and Helen off, Rush turned to me. “Shall we get started?” He handed me a stick from the garden, “Just in case you feel the need.” Despite my resolve to be crisp and professional with him I almost laughed.

  By the time the others were back I had the rudiments of an event mapped out. I had a list of resources we’d need from event insurance and lighting to portable generators and fireworks. It was a long list and I had to admit Rush’s vision was exciting and his pockets were lusciously deep.

  The only problem about all this was it made Rush my boss for this project and ended any thoughts I had of avoiding him. I steeled myself to think of the fee which would more than make up for the fact I’d do all the work, and he’d find a way to look good and claim the credit.

  The others wanted in. Arch who was covered in soot and other unidentified muck, but looked ecstatically happy, put himself in charge of making the site secure and the temporary venue safe and functional. Shane nominated himself master of ceremonies in charge of the entertainment and Simon volunteered to put a committee of local restaurateurs together to manage the food.

  We had lift off.

  When I took a list of requirements and cost estimates to Rush, he made it clear anything I thought we needed I should get and to prove the point he gave me bank account details and his credit card.

  Despite myself I could feel a tickle of enthusiasm. This was going to be fun, but to get it all moving and in such a short time I knew we needed more help. When I broached the idea of asking Brick to join us, explaining his administration support role in the office, and how he could help on the event, Rush was supportive. That put Brick and his mum Elizabeth, on the next plane.

  18: Taken In

  It was a large house, but still it was hard to lose these guys. The only places I could go to avoid them was the pool or my bedroom and neither was a great location for working through the event project planner, so I hunkered down in the dining room while they took over the living room. God, they were hard to ignore. I could hear every word.

  “You’ve got to take the part, it’s a great idea,” said Rush.

  “But stage, you know I don’t do stage,” groaned Shane.

  “Well, it’s about time you had a go.”

  “But it’s Adelina Burton.”

  That made me sit up a little straighter. Adelina Burton was the hottest new playwright and director on the scene.

  “Let me count the ways I could fuck this up. There’s no take fifteen.” I couldn’t see Shane but I could imagine him stalking about.

  “Have you got the script? It’s the new one, Mogul, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Shane, come on, do a scene. You’re playing Damon, the bodyguard. Do the one where he goes to bring Patrice home.”

  “How well do you know this play?” Shane demanded.

  “It’s Adelina Burton,” said Rush. “She’s already sold the movie rights.”

  “Fuck it. I shouldn’t be anywhere near it.”

  “You’ll make a great Damon. You’ve got the grunt and grunge, the bad attitude. How awful can it be?”

  “You have no friggin’ idea how awful it can be. I don’t do stage.”

  “Shane, come on. Indulge us. Get the script.”

  “I suppose I have to play Patrice,” said Arch. I could hear a considerable lack of enthusiasm in his tone. I almost laughed.

  “I can’t freaking do it with him,” Shane complained.

  “Are you five years old? It’s a little thing called acting, Shane,” said Rush.

  “I’ll never be that good.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  ‘I’m hurt,” said Arch.

  “Now that’s acting,” said Rush, and he and Shane laughed.

  “Nah, get Andi,” said Shane. I tensed. Served me right for eavesdropping. “At least give me a proper female lead. Arch playing Patrice will put me right off my game. Rush you go ask her.”

  “That’ll make sure it never happens,” said Arch. I smiled at my laptop screen. Just as well I was. The things you learn.

  “My thinking exactly,” said Shane.

  “I’ll go, you pussies,” said Arch. And I simply didn’t scramble far enough away, quickly enough. He caught me in the kitchen. “Andi, would you do us a favour?”

  I kept my back to him. I had a new fascination with the bottom of the empty sink. “I heard. No. I didn’t even act in school plays. Try Simon.”

  “He’s gone to bed.”

  “Sensible.”

  “Come on, please, for me.”

  “No. I’m busy.”

  “You look busy.”

  I was so sprung. I turned to look at Arch. He was lounging against the doorjamb. He wore an old pair of boardies and a t-shirt that was so well washed it’d gone fluid over his hulking form. “No, really, I can’t.” Arch wouldn’t make me. Arch was the nice guy.

  “I can make you.” Maybe not so nice.

  “You and who else’s army?” He gave me this look that said he wouldn’t need an army and made ‘come here’ fingers at me.

  I shook my head. He nodded his and grinned. He had smiling eyes goddamn it. Four-letters. First letter S.

  Reluctance was the name of the way I walked with him into the lounge
room. It made my knees all stiff and gave me a giraffe neck. My eyes were so far down on the ground I might’ve been able to tell how old the floor boards were from reading the knots in the wood. They were so far down I walked into the back of Arch and made him laugh.

  “The prisoner,” he said, in a vaguely German accent.

  I looked around him at Shane. “What do you want me to do?”

  Shane pointed at Rush. “Not me—him.”

  I looked at Rush. He was sitting forward on Helen’s leather club chair. He was barefoot, in faded jeans with the knees ripped out of them, he had a crushed linen shirt on, untucked and sparsely buttoned. It was bad that I wanted to scrub my knuckles across the light stubble on his jaw. Stupid, bad, because I also still felt like punching him.

  “Read a scene with Shane,” he said. “We’ll see just how awful he is.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Yeah, friends like,” groaned Shane.

  Rush stood. “You’re Patrice. You’re the wife of a mega wealthy tycoon who you once loved with all your heart, but who you’ve learned is having yet another affair.” He pushed the coffee table out of the centre of the floor. The three of us watched. “You’ve left him and he sends his bodyguard, Damon to bring you home again.” He straightened up and zeroed in on me. “This is the scene where Patrice and Damon size each other up. This is where the sizzle starts, ‘cause this is one sexy play,” he finished, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

  I was anticipating soul scaring disaster. My reluctance had given way to full on squirm. “Ah, I’m just reading the lines’, right? I can’t act. I can’t do sexy.”

  Rush tipped his head to the side and studied me. “You can do sexy very nicely.” He gave me that slow lopsided smile that made women swoon. I shut my eyes. What did he mean I could ‘do sexy very nicely’? “But all you need to do is read the lines. Patrice hates the very idea of Damon, and yet she can’t help herself flirt with him.” I squinted at him. I could sympathise with Patrice. Rush went on, oblivious to the parallels. “That’s why this is such fun.” He handed me a binder, opened to the scene. “Take it from, ‘What do you mean he sent you’.”