Bad Reputation

by Stefanie London

  How was he supposed to answer that without coming across like a conceited jerk? “The reviews are mostly positive,” he said. “It’s not the content so much as their existence.”

  Reed’s lip twitched like he was trying to hide a smirk. “Got it.”

  “But I’m trying to get my show off the ground, and the investors are taking issue with the fact that my sex life is all over the internet.” His knuckles tightened around the cup, the cardboard giving under his grip. He put it down before he crushed the damn thing and covered himself in coffee. “I wasn’t aware I needed to get people to sign an NDA before we slept together.”

  “Preaching to the choir, man.” Reed shook his head. “Honestly, I would try to move on. If you were my client back when I was working in the industry, I would have advised a few interviews, especially if your reviews are mostly positive. If people bring it up, you can simply brush over it and keep the focus on your show. Hell, you might even get some more people coming along out of curiosity’s sake.”

  “Only if we can find the right investors,” Wes said. “Otherwise, I’m going to be funding it one hundred percent myself, which is risky.”

  “Very risky.” Reed nodded. “From what I know about Broadway, that’s not a good move.”

  “Like I said, I’m not going to quit.” He braced his hands on his knees, frustration coursing through him. “You really didn’t find anything about Bad Bachelors that might help me? I thought you of all people would understand my predicament.”

  “I do.” Reed nodded. “But it’s a tough situation.”

  “How? You’re engaged now, right? It’s not like you have to worry about it anymore.”

  Reed looked at Wes long and hard, like he was trying to figure something out. He seemed torn, which meant he definitely knew more than he was letting on.

  “Look,” he said. “I understand why you’re pissed off. Believe me, I was ready to burn down the world if it meant getting that site wiped off the map. But there was a cost I wasn’t willing to pay.”

  “A cost that was higher than giving up your job? Your life?”

  “Sometimes you change what you want out of life.”

  Wes bit back his frustration. “That tells me nothing.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t say any more than that. My advice stands, don’t engage. And don’t bother trying to get the reviews taken down, they won’t do it.” Reed shot him a sympathetic look and stood. “I do hope you manage to get your show off the ground.”

  Wes leaned back against the wall of the café as Reed bid him farewell and left the bustling establishment. For a moment, he wanted to let the white noise wash over him. He wanted to pretend he wasn’t dragging Out of Bounds through thick sludge. At every turn, there was another hurdle. Another setback.

  Most people might stop and wonder if it was all worth it at this point. But not Wes. He’d fought too hard already. The more walls that popped up in front of him, the harder he would push until he had what he wanted.

  He mulled over Reed’s words. There was a cost I wasn’t willing to pay.

  What the hell did that mean? Reed seemed to have given up everything—a job he loved, the prestige of working for one of Manhattan’s top PR firms. Undoubtedly he’d given up an insane salary and lavish lifestyle. Though on reflection, it wasn’t all that dissimilar to what Wes had given up for Out Of Bounds. He’d forgone his cushy job and padded paycheck. He’d given up a part of his relationship with his parents. He’d given up sleep and free time and all his savings.

  Sometimes you change what you want out of life.

  Love. All the bad press had stopped when he’d gotten engaged. Maybe that had something to do with it.

  Wes shook his head. Love made people do crazy things, that was for damn sure. And perhaps it made him cold, but he couldn’t imagine giving up his dream for someone. Because what was the point of a relationship if he wasn’t otherwise creatively fulfilled in life?

  It had to be something else. Surely.

  * * *

  Remi leaned back on her couch and bit down on her lip as she lowered her foot into a bucket of ice water. No matter how many times she did it—and no matter how much she knew it would help—there was no dulling the shock of that freezing temperature on sore muscles.

  Her sweatpants were pushed up to her knees and her hair was pulled up into a greasy bun on top of her head.

  “Great idea to have a night in.” Darcy carried over the boxes of steaming pizza that were currently making Remi’s mouth water and placed them on the coffee table. “People at the library have been crazy this week. Must be a full moon or something.”

  This week, Remi, Annie, and Darcy had moved their catch-up to Thursday, since Remi was going to be at the cocktail party with Wes tomorrow night. And the thought of trying to stuff her battered feet into a pair of heels two nights in a row was too much to bear. Plus, she’d barely slept a wink since The Kiss.

  It was never a good sign when your mistakes required a title.

  “Ugh, tell me about it.” Annie had a pitcher of margaritas that she’d made up and three wineglasses. Since Remi’s apartment was basically a glorified shoebox, the options for glassware were limited to cheap white-wine glasses and chunky water glasses that she’d bought at IKEA. “My boss was in a foul mood all week and literally everything that could go wrong with this project is going wrong. I mean, the client expects that defects found in UAT can be fixed with a click of our fingers, but it was their fault for providing shitty requirements.”

  Remi shot Darcy a confused look and got a shrug in return. Neither of them really understood what Annie did at work.

  “Enough about our work problems,” Darcy said, flipping open the top pizza box. The scent of melted cheese and garlic wafted into the air. “How’s the dream career going?”

  Remi had been dreading this moment. She should have been over the moon, but instead, she wanted to cry. Rehearsals continued to plague her confidence—even though she’d finally managed to master the swish, swish, kick without taking Alfred’s head off. They’d also taken measurements for the costume designer today, and Remi had been horrified to see that her numbers were well over what they used to be.

  It appeared that was the downside to the ladies’ supper club.

  She eyed the pizza with disdain. “It’s okay.”

  “Okay?” Darcy settled onto the couch and sat cross-legged. “What’s going on? I thought you’d be ecstatic.”

  Where did she begin? Or, more importantly, how much did she actually want to say? It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Annie or Darcy—far from it. But they both had jobs they loved, jobs they were good at. And for all the troubles they’d had in their lives—Darcy finding out her fiancée had been cheating on her and Annie experiencing the breakdown of a relationship at the same time her mother was diagnosed with cancer—none of it ever seemed related to work.

  “I guess I’m feeling guilty about abandoning Mish,” she said. It was certainly true, but it also felt like safer topic of discussion.

  “That’s understandable.” Annie sat next to Darcy.

  The two of them were like chalk and cheese. Darcy had a full sleeve of tattoos on one arm and a pierced tongue, and tended to dress in all-black outfits. Annie, on the other hand, was sleek and feminine. Her shiny, brown hair was always perfectly smooth, and you’d never catch her looking rumpled or frazzled.

  But the two had been friends since childhood.

  “But I’m sure she gets it,” Annie continued, pouring everyone a drink. “Sometimes when an opportunity lands at your feet, you have to take it. Would you rather grow old and wonder what might have been?”

  Would she have preferred ignorant bliss over the knowledge that she didn’t have what it took to succeed in her dream career? Maybe.

  Stop it. You will get the choreography, and you will make this work.

 
“Has she found someone to replace you?” Darcy asked. She leaned forward and grabbed her margarita, taking a sip.

  “Yeah, at least for now.” Remi shifted on her seat. “But she didn’t seem that keen to talk when I rang her yesterday.”

  Considering she and Mish had spoken on an almost daily basis for the last year and a half, it was strange to have that gap in her life.

  “She was still pretty pissed.” Remi grabbed a piece of pizza and almost moaned at the melty, gooey goodness. Just one slice and then she’d eat the quinoa salad she’d prepared before the girls had arrived. “Not that I blame her at all. She’s got every right to be furious at me.”

  “And how’s the other stuff?” Darcy asked. “Is it like riding a bike?”

  “Kind of. My feet have taken a beating, but I know they’ll adjust and the calluses will come back, and I won’t get as many blisters then.”

  Annie wrinkled her nose. “For such a beautiful art form, it sure doesn’t look so glamorous underneath it all.”

  “I once had a teacher tell me that a ballerina’s feet were like a warrior’s hands.” She pulled her foot out of the ice bath and dropped it down onto the towel she’d laid out earlier. Then she put her other foot into the bucket and cringed again at the shock. “Every battle scar and ugly bit is the product of conquering new ground.”

  “I like that.” Darcy grinned. “Makes you sound fierce.”

  “And what’s it like working with the Anaconda?” Annie’s eyes twinkled. “Any glimpses of the beast?”

  Remi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he walks around the studio with it slung over his shoulder.”

  Darcy snorted, her margarita almost sloshing over the edge of the glass. “Now that’s an image.”

  “Seriously, though. I need to live vicariously through you, since Darcy isn’t any good to me anymore.” Annie smirked and Darcy rolled her eyes, swapping her drink for a slice of pizza.

  “Sorry my engagement is so boring,” she retorted through a mouthful of pepperoni.

  “What’s he like?” Annie probed.

  “Charming.” It was the first word that popped into her head when it came to Wes. “And driven and talented.”

  “Not to mention gorgeous,” Darcy added. “I saw him when we met Remi for a drink before her date-that-wasn’t-a-date. I prefer my own tall, dark, and handsome man, but I can still appreciate some fine human construction.”

  Memories of their kiss rushed through Remi, firing up all the places he’d touched as if she were suddenly in the dimly lit studio again. The way he’d taken charge of kissing her—stunned only for a nanosecond when she’d thrown her arms around him before he jumped into the driver’s seat. And the way he’d carried her across the room and pinned her to the wall…

  “You’re looking a little flushed, Remi.” Annie shot Darcy a knowing look. “Kind of weird for a girl with her foot in a bucket of ice water.”

  “Did something happen?” Darcy’s blue eyes widened.

  “Nothing happened.” The second the words came out of her mouth, she knew the denial was too quick. Too obvious. “Maybe something happened.”

  “What kind of something?” Annie leaned forward to grab her drink. “First base, second base?”

  “Or did you hit a home run?” Darcy laughed.

  Remi chewed on the crust of her pizza slice. “What is this? High school?”

  “Just answer the question, Drysdale.”

  God. How was she supposed to fit a kiss like that into such neat little boxes? Some kisses could be classified—good or bad, tongue or no tongue, sloppy or too much teeth. But this was the kind of kiss that would usually lead to a night of hot, headboard-banging, scream-your-lungs-out sex.

  That was until he had to say something stupid.

  You should be grateful, or else you’d be nursing a hell of a freak-out right now instead of mild self-recrimination.

  “It was just a kiss,” she said, taking her other foot out of the ice bath and dabbing it with her towel.

  “It wasn’t just anything by the look on your face,” Darcy said. “You’ve got that ‘I’ve been thinking about it for days but I really wish I hadn’t’ expression.”

  Got it in one.

  “It was just a kiss. An ill-advised one at that.” She stood and picked up the bucket. “I’m not planning a repeat.”

  She walked over to the kitchen, which was behind the sofa where her friends sat, and tipped the water down the drain. Ice cubes clinked against the metal sink, drowning out Annie’s response.

  “I’ve never seen you get so angsty over a kiss before.” Darcy turned and draped her arms over the sofa, watching as Remi set the bucket down and started spooning her salad into a bowl.

  “I’m grumpy because you guys get to eat pizza and I have to be healthy,” she replied.

  “Bullshit.” Annie shook her head. “You like this guy.”

  “I like all the guys I kiss. Otherwise, why would I kiss them?” She stuck her head into the fridge and dug around for some feta in the hopes it would make her salad taste less like a dish sponge. It also had the added benefit of hiding her reaction from her friends. “We were rehearsing and we got caught up in a moment of passion. That’s it.”

  Keep telling yourself that.

  “There’s a big difference between liking a guy enough to make out with him and liking him enough to be annoyed that you did,” Annie said knowingly. “What do you think, Darcy?”

  “I concur.”

  “Don’t gang up on me,” Remi said as she carried her dinner back to the coffee table. It looked so bland and beige next to the delicious, crispy pizza. “I’m fragile at the moment.”

  “Ha, fragile.” Darcy chuckled. “I know a lot of fragile people, Remi, and you aren’t one of them. Believe me, you’re stronger than the lot of us put together.”

  “And the fact that you’re giving this whole ballet thing another shot is testament to that,” Annie added. For all their teasing, she knew the two women had her back. With her being so far away from home, they were her surrogate family. Her best friends and sisters all wrapped into one.

  “I do like him,” she admitted. “He’s exactly my catnip—sexy, he’s got moves, he’s confident without being a jerk. The problem is, if I want to move forward in this career, then he’s one of them.”

  “Them?” Annie cocked her head.

  “The haves,” she said. “And I am the have-nots. In other words, I rely on people like him to help me get ahead. The last thing I want is anyone saying I’m trying to sleep my way to the top or that he would be the kind of guy to take advantage of me. It would hurt us both.”

  It was the greatest insult anyone could hurl at her. Remi loved sex, but not as a negotiating tactic. Not as payment for a favor. She would never use her body like that, despite what people had said last time. The whispers had cut worse than outright accusations because they’d come from those she’d thought had known her better.

  Annie and Darcy knew the full story behind why she’d left Australia. Originally, she hadn’t wanted to tell them, instead stating that she’d always planned to come to New York, and after she broke up with her boyfriend, it’d seemed like the perfect opportunity. Not exactly a lie.

  But the day Darcy found her sobbing in the bathroom, it had all come out—the affair, the pregnancy. The miscarriage. Everything.

  “Jealousy makes people say stupid things,” Annie said with a sigh. “I could totally see that.”

  “Well, we’re having funding issues with the show anyway. Maybe if it all falls in a heap, I’ll let myself indulge.”

  “Funding issues?” Darcy asked.

  “Yeah, seems one of the investors wasn’t so happy about Wes’s, uh…reputation, to put it delicately.”

  Annie raised a brow. “And to put it not so delicately?”

  “He didn’t like the
fact that Wes’s sex life was splashed all over the internet. No so much because of what they said, but the fact that people were talking about it.” Remi waded her fork through the quinoa, trying to dig out a chunk of feta.

  “Talk about flipping gender norms,” Annie said. “Not that I’m happy Wes is having difficulties, but it’s usually women who get judged for their sex lives.”

  “Well, Bad Bachelors has certainly got a hand in it.” Remi shook her head. “I thought it was such a great idea at first, but after seeing what Reed went through and now Wes, I’m not so sure.”

  Darcy shot Annie a strange look.

  “What?” Remi asked.

  “Nothing.” Annie picked up her drink. “So what’s Wes’s plan for the show? Has he got another investor lined up?”

  “Apparently there’s going to be some important, rich people at this cocktail party tomorrow night.” She chewed, her mind whirling at the details he’d emailed earlier that day. Not just the invite for the event, but the fact that he was sending her to see a friend of his who was a personal shopper at Saks. On him. “I’m going with him to lure some wallets open.”

  “Going with him as a date?” Darcy asked.

  “No, it’s not a date.” Remi put her salad down, her appetite waning. “Definitely not a date.”

  Chapter 13

  “Good girl’s guide to dating, rule #1: start slow. You don’t need a Ferrari for your first car. Wes is for advanced players only.”

  —GoodieTwoShoes

  There hadn’t been too many opportunities in Remi’s life for her to truly feel like a princess. Sure, in the early days of her career, she’d had exciting moments. Glamorous moments. But nothing like spending the afternoon with a personal shopper at Saks Fifth Avenue, playing in the VIP area where everyone had a small dog poking out of a handbag that cost more than any car she’d ever driven. But with Wes’s connections, no one had called her out for being an intruder despite her anticipating a Pretty Woman moment the second she’d set foot in their gleaming, well-lit dressing room.