“Dollface.” Her agent sipped his drink and caught her attention. Nicole curled her nose, but his face was blank. “This feminist attitude is why it’s harder to sell you these days. It’s why it’s been easier to get jobs for Linsey.”
Roy only cared about the money. Nicole rolled her eyes. “Linsey is still in high school.”
Again, she turned her attention toward Gerard. Perhaps if she went home, she’d find time to visit him. There had to be a reason he was still part of her dreams.
“The people of Massachusetts will do well to elect me.”
Elect him? The words Senate nomination scrolled along the bottom of the television screen. Heat flushed through her entire body.
No way.
The last time Stella had an episode, she’d read how Gerard had had more girlfriends than the Hollywood people at this party. Her sister’s tears of anguish had never stopped. Nicole had to help her sister cope, again.
Roy coughed. “Are you listening to me, dollface? You’re washed up.”
Nicole lifted her chin. “My movie is slated to be number one. You should find the next producer who wants a star in his show and mention my name. That is your job.”
Roy stood, as if their conversation was over. “The thing is, dollface, you’re too old.”
Too old meant she’d never get another gig. Her eyes widened. “Excuse me? I’m in my twenties.”
“Late twenties. You’ll be thirty soon, and then all I’ll be able to get you is motherly roles. I will do my best, but no promises. For now, go upstairs and act sweet.”
Nicole bared her teeth, but it was the opposite of a smile. This might be a sign from the universe that she should go home now.
Roy placed his hand on her back. “Hey, there’s my girl.”
Nicole stepped out of his reach. She could walk herself. Then she turned toward the television and walked closer to the bar to better hear. Gerard was still smiling. She tapped the counter with two fingers and made a fast plan. Gerard Collins was running for something more important than a movie role. She could help somehow.
“People are comparing him to John F. Kennedy and predicting a presidential run in a few years,” the bartender told her in a conspiratorial tone. “If more senators looked like that man, I’d be watching C-SPAN more often.”
“JFK? Just because he has dark hair and is from Boston?” Senators voted on matters important to the nation, and that took responsibility. If she went home, would Gerard even remember her as more than Stella’s little sister?
A man touched her arm, and Nicole winced. Her dubious costar’s hands still made her skin crawl. Philip didn’t know how to read the get lost glare she’d tossed him a moment ago. She hugged herself again and gazed at the television. Philip stood beside her, and she told him, “The party is upstairs already.”
“We should walk in together.” Her costar flashed his fake smile. “Give the cameras a nice picture for the premiere.”
She smiled, though she bit her tongue. Philip had stood there like a refrigerator in every scene. This event would be no different. Her last four months had been spent on multiple takes to get him to show any emotion in a scene. She didn’t want to relive that. The movie had taken all her energy.
She could go home to her people, to Boston, and figure out her next move. It wasn’t like she needed anything here anymore. She missed her home, the streets where no one cared she made movies.
A smile formed on her face, but then she blinked it away. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
Philip followed her gaze to the television. “Do you know the senator?”
“He’s not the senator yet.” She gulped and feared she’d given her interest in Gerard away. “And for all any of us know, he might be a horrible choice.”
“Name a congressman who isn’t the worst.”
True. Nicole Wyman was soft-spoken for cameras, but Nicole Burns bit her lip. The image of helping Gerard fight corruption played in her mind’s eye. The scene played out like a movie in her head. She’d go home.
“Let’s go upstairs, babe,” her costar repeated.
Nicole nodded, but in the morning, she’d leave. She still owned her family house on the Cape. In the movie, Scarlett had her Tara, and Nicole’s home in Hyannis that didn’t have a name was hers. Her parents were dead, but like Scarlett, her father had taught her to always value property and investments.
Nicole gritted her teeth as cameras swarmed around her. Tomorrow, this life would end.
***
The following morning, she stared at the Pacific from her beach condo bed. She didn’t want to get up. The party had gone too late and she hadn’t spoken to Stella. The surf outside splashed against the rocks, and the sound calmed her. She sat and stared out at the vastness of blue.
This ocean was so different then the cold Atlantic on Cape Cod. There, wildness and destruction could be smelled in the salty air, and she needed that edge right now.
The Pacific offered calmness and serenity most of the time. The vast blue had enveloped her spirit and helped her forget many things. She rolled out of bed and stared at her packed bag as her phone rang. “Hello.”
“Nic, I need you.”
Nicole’s heart felt like it shrank. It was like she was twelve years old again. “What’s going on, Stella?”
“It’s Gerard. I saw him.”
She frowned. “That’s not good for you.”
“I know, but we were supposed to get married. He’s perfect.”
Her stomach clenched. She’d call the hospital her sister was in and explain this to the doctors. Nicole swallowed hard and reminded Stella of the truth. “You were not engaged. Stella, he never did anything to you.”
“You’re a horrible person. I hate you!” Her sister ended the call.
Nicole ran her hand through her hair. She’d have to go see her sister in person.
Then she dialed her assistant, Angela, and hoped to leave a message, but the woman answered, “Morning, Nicole.”
“I need you to cancel my appointments.” Nicole massaged her neck and poured herself a large coffee. Today she’d go home. Nothing else mattered.
“You have an interview this afternoon. It’s too late to cancel that one,” Angela said. “And I’ve scheduled a meeting with Roy to discuss future roles.”
Nicole closed her eyes and sighed. “Reschedule Roy for later and see if you can get the reporter here in less than an hour. I need to catch a flight and take care of my sister.”
“Stella’s off her medication again?”
Nicole’s heart felt like stone. “No, it’s much worse. I have to meet with her doctors and her in the hospital.”
“If there is anything I can do…” Angela sighed.
Nicole’s hands clenched. “Get this reporter here, fast.”
“The reporter started work already, so that shouldn’t be an issue if we’re offering an exclusive inside look of your home.”
She pinched her nostrils together and closed her eyes. “Of course.”
“You’re the most successful woman under age thirty for two years in a row, remember?”
Nicole fiddled with a spoon she picked up. “I just can’t anymore. My head hurts all the time.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a two-week vacation. Go meet with your sister’s doctors and then take care of yourself. We all need rest and relaxation. Do you need me to pick a beach?”
Home wasn’t a short vacation. Her internal batteries were too low. Nicole set her jaw. “No. I’m going to my house on the Cape.”
“Why?”
She winced. “It’s been too long, and I need the rest.”
“Seriously I don’t think you should bother. What’s there for you anymore? After your parents died, you ran away to here. You were sixteen and you made it all the way to the top. Let’s not relapse now. You’re the star.”
All of that was true, but she’d only done what she had to ensure her sister had the care she needed. Other stars in her life situation ende
d up adopting children, becoming spokeswomen for noble causes, but she hadn’t picked her path yet.
Nicole swallowed and stared at the floor. “It’s time. I need to go home while there is still part of me left there.”
“Well, try to get home and back to work soon. You’re living the dream right now.”
If Roy was right, then she needed a plan of action. Nicole had always had a plan, until now. Her body stiffened. “I need to live my life, and figure out what’s missing.”
That happiness she had hoped for had never come from any of this work, and now she no longer needed to work—she’d made enough money.
She sipped her coffee as she listened to Angela give her a pep talk, which included dating. Her fingers curled around the phone as she pictured the rocky Atlantic coastline and strong waves. Her pulse increased. The Cape would be a good place to find out what had stifled her future dreams. It would be nice to have goals again and wake up from how she was sleepwalking through life.
“Thanks, Angela, talk to you soon.”
“Should I book your ticket?”
“I’ll run my own life for two weeks. Tell you what: you book that beach vacation for yourself. I’ll authorize a five-thousand-dollar bonus for you to fly wherever you want.”
“Thanks! I’ll call you and we’ll chat in a few days. Bye.”
Nicole fixed a bowl of fruit and sat down. She picked up her fork to eat, but forgot about food the moment Gerard’s face appeared on her television.
He smiled and mentioned a plan. Those white teeth and dimples could be on any of her costars’ mouths, and his square jaw gave him a distinctive, sexy profile. He was too handsome for his own good.
Stella had fallen for those strong shoulders. She must have done everything she could have, and those choices had led to her downfall. Nicole never let on about her own attraction to him because of her sister.
Nicole pictured her fate as she stared at the television. Her skin tingled with agitation, and she picked up her phone and dialed. “I’d like to book a ticket to Boston for later today.” She wrinkled her nose. This had always been her job, to ensure that Stella was safe.
Nicole closed her eyes and listened to the elevator music of the phone. She tried hard to picture Stella’s face, but the memory was fuzzy. For three years, Nicole had kept her distance. Now she would go see her in person at the hospital. The music stopped and she opened her eyes, and the man on the phone told her, “I have a flight in five hours.”
“Perfect.” She booked the flight, hung up, and took one more bite.
On her way upstairs to get dressed, she threw the plate of food into the trash.
Half an hour later, she was ready. The doorbell rang, and she raced to push her packed bag into the closet. Finished, she rushed down the stairs and opened her door.
“Ms. Wyman. I’m surprised you open your own door.”
The reporter started fast. Nicole shrugged and stepped to the side to let the blonde with clear blue eyes into her beach townhouse. “Welcome to my home. What’s your name?”
“Oh, how silly of me. I’m Carrie Miller.”
Nicole closed the door. “It’s nice to meet you, Carrie. Please, call me Nicole.”
Carrie sat on the couch as her gaze floated around the room. Nicole took the seat opposite her. Carrie fidgeted a bit and then asked, “Are you ready, Ms. Wyman?”
“Yes. Please.”
The reporter took out a video camera and then motioned for Nicole’s permission. She nodded. “Go ahead. At least you asked.”
“Wow. Thank you for letting me video this interview, Ms. Wyman. My viewers are excited to get a peek at who you truly are. You often shy away from the media. Why is that?”
Nicole licked her lips. “It’s not that I’m shy, but I’m not that interesting as a person. I read and I like to keep to myself.”
“You were a teenage star that didn’t go off the deep end. How did you manage that?”
The deep end was for people without responsibilities. “I know what it’s like to be in the deep end. My parents died when I was young, and I’ve had to depend on myself for everything.”
Silence hung in the air. Nicole drew a deep breath. She wouldn’t add more personal information, not unless specifically asked.
“You haven’t ever let the media into your home. Why this time?”
Nicole smiled. “I’m hoping to get out of town to recover my spirit after this last movie, but I wanted to keep my commitment to this interview. I may have offered my home as a carrot.”
“That’s honest. There are so many questions my viewers have for you. Are you dating anyone?”
Was the next question about dieting or her clothes? No one asked her serious questions at these things, like how she got in character. Her jaw tightened. “Not at the moment. I’ve worked nonstop these past three years and haven’t seen anyone who’s not my coworker. In ten years, I’ve never taken more than a week off.”
“You’ve never been linked to any A-listers in this town. Was there a boy who broke your heart before you became famous?”
Men were a dime a dozen in California, and most wanted their picture with her. She wouldn’t promote a fool, and she’d never dated Gerard to say he broke her heart. He was her personal fantasy. She crossed her legs, stared into the camera, and swallowed. “I moved to California to make movies when I was sixteen years old. I had my first major motion picture out as I turned eighteen. I missed out on the drama a few of my characters have experienced.”
“So you’ve never been in love?”
Nicole lowered her gaze. “No, but I pretend to feel it in every movie. One day it would be nice in real life.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
Nicole broke out in goosebumps. She should have offered food and jabbered on about something she ate. Her stomach grumbled, and she ducked her head down. “I don’t have time for regrets. I have my sister to look after. She depends on me, and I can’t let her down.”
“How long ago was that car accident?”
The press knew part of the story, but not the diagnosis of schizophrenia. Three years ago, Stella had left her hospital and was in a horrible accident. No one knew the hospital had been a long-term mental facility.
Nicole frowned slightly as her heart picked up its pace. “Three and a half years ago.”
Carrie quickly changed the topic. “You’ve made some of my favorite movies since then. Not Without Me, Tempting Mr. Darcy, and Just Fate were some of the best. Your latest one, College Do-Over, had you reliving college. Why do you keep yourself so busy? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Glad you enjoyed a few of them.” At least Carrie knew the titles. Nicole folded her hands in front of her. “Yeah. I threw myself into work, but this sad stuff isn’t why you came here. Would you like a tour of my home?”
They both stood and walked into the kitchen. The reporter carried her video camera. As they entered the all-white kitchen, Carrie asked, “Where are you from, Ms. Wyman?”
She straightened out her skirt and smiled for the camera. “Cape Cod.”
The reporter smiled. “What do you think about Gerard Collins, the Kennedy-like guy who is running for the US Senate?”
Again with Gerard. She could never let on that she had a schoolgirl fantasy. Nicole chose her words carefully. “I’ve not much to say. I was in a few plays back home with his younger brother, back in the day. Gerard was in my older sister’s class.”
“Is he why you brought up your sister earlier?”
No one needed to investigate Stella. The questions were about her. Nicole rocked in her shoes. “You might be right on what had me thinking about home. I saw the news and was shocked to see a familiar face. But now that I’ve finished that last movie, I can let my hair down a bit.”
“Where are you going?”
“Some place where I can blend in.”
“You truly are a private person, Ms. Wyman. How did your parents die?”
“In a different c
ar accident.” Nicole shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“I am sorry. I can’t imagine life without my family.”
Most people couldn’t. Nicole had to ensure survival first. Nicole pointed to the huge bay windows that overlooked the private beach. “You don’t want to. What I love about my kitchen and bedroom upstairs is the view of the Pacific. I love the ocean.”
“It is lovely.”
A few minutes later, Nicole walked the reporter out. She then marched upstairs to get her bag. Her taxi would be here soon. As she bounced her bag down the steps, the car beeped in her driveway. She walked out of her house, determination in every step.
As she slid into the back seat, she closed her eyes and reminded herself that everything would work out.
CHAPTER THREE
Gerard
“Imogen Ramos is the woman you’d pick?” Gerard kept his tone devoid of any emotion. He sat at his desk and stared at the file that included a picture of a dark-haired, nondescript woman. “This is who you expect me to propose to?”
“You don’t have to propose, sir,” Barnie answered. “She’s already agreed. Just slide her the ring or mail it to her. Doesn’t matter. Her only condition is one meeting to ensure you’re not, and I quote, ‘a disgusting lounge-lizard creep she’d never take to her alumni association.’”
“Yale?” Gerard stared at the woman’s picture and folded his hands in his lap. Imogen had a Plain Jane quality to her, but that might be bad. She’d be likely to turn into someone else he’d never be able to shake. Sometimes women clung. He had to choose his words carefully. Smart, overlooked women were the worst kind of desperate. “I’m not getting a good feeling on this one. I’d rather find someone else.”
“Are you serious? Is this because you went to Harvard and she went to Yale?”
“No, because…” Gerard hadn’t thought about Stella Burns in a long time, but her memory scared him. Imogen reminded him of her. It was the blank intensity of the gaze. He closed the manila folder and pushed it back to his campaign manager. “I tend to avoid girls like this one.”
“She’s perfectly normal. Loosen up.”
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