by Elle Spencer
Casting Lacey
by Elle Spencer
Casting Lacey
Copyright © 2017 Elle Spencer
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters and events described herein are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
“I don’t want to do this, Jack.”
Jack Harris put the car in park and turned toward his client. “We’ve talked about this. It’s the best way to get what you want.”
“And keep what I have. I know, Jack. You’ve mentioned it at least a thousand times.” Quinn Kincaid shook her head in disbelief. She’d been doing that a lot lately, ever since she’d decided to entertain Jack’s ridiculous idea.
Jack reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Besides, she’s perfect.” He beamed with pride. “I’ve completely outdone myself.”
Quinn pulled her hand back and turned away in a dramatic huff. “How do you manage to be the publicist who gives all the other publicists a bad name? Do you know how hard that is?”
“What can I say?” He gave her an insincere shrug. “I’m a winner.”
Quinn lowered her sunglasses and shot him a glare. “I’m serious, Jack. I really don’t want to do this.”
“Just give me five minutes. I haven’t even told you about her yet.” He unrolled Quinn’s heavily tinted window. The anticipation was killing him. He had to know what she thought of his choice for her. “The one at the end, with the long, brown hair.”
“Dammit, Ja….” Quinn froze, her mouth hanging open.
Jack wanted to laugh out loud at Quinn’s reaction, but he covered it up with a clearing of his throat. If he wasn’t sure before – and by god he wasn’t – he certainly was now. Quinn Kincaid was indeed gay. He leaned over and looked out the car window with her. “I expect a week at your Aspen condo. Peak season. Not friggin’ late April. That’s just insulting.”
Quinn kept her eyes on the woman. “Remind me again why I have to pay your retainer and give you my condo in exchange for carrying out your dumb-ass idea?”
“Because I’m that good.” Jack grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. “Now then, would you like the low down before you go down, Quinn darling?”
“Late April, just for saying that. Maybe even May.”
“And here I thought we were friends.” Jack put his reading glasses on and opened a file folder. “Her name is Lacey Matthews. Thirty years old. Lives in New York…”
“New York? Then why is she sitting at a Starbucks in West Hollywood?”
“She comes here every day. Gets her out of that shitty little hotel she’s staying in. Now, can I give you her history without any more interruptions, please?”
Quinn waved a dismissive hand while she kept her eyes on the brunette. “Please do. We both have better places to be.”
“She came up in the business. Spent her childhood on a daytime soap, went to college, then back on the soap. Left the show last year, so she’s in L.A., going to every audition she can. She really needs the work.”
“Any luck?”
“She’s good, Quinn. She has a couple of Daytime Emmys, but nothing so far.”
“I’ve never heard of her.” Quinn impatiently looked at her watch.
“Does it matter? Anyone who watches soaps would know who she is.”
“So, she’s like this generation’s Susan Lucci?”
Jack chuckled. “So, you do watch soaps.”
“You know me better than that, Jack.”
He closed the folder and opened his iPad. “Shall we YouTube her?”
“No. Just tell me about her love life.” Quinn glanced at her watch again and then lowered the car window a little more.
“Broke up with her ex about six months ago. Word is, the stress of coming out was too much for them.”
Quinn stilled herself and slowly turned to Jack, glancing at him quickly before turning to the window again. Looking the woman up and down, her eyes widened. “She’s gay?”
Jack smiled, feeling so very proud of himself. “Perfect, right?” Quinn didn’t reply. “Quinn?”
She gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll need a face-to-face before we make an offer.”
“Well, as you can see, she’s alone. Just don’t get into any specifics until we have a signed non-disclosure agreement.”
“Great,” Quinn replied. “I was ready to open with ‘Hey good lookin’, want to hear my publicist’s half-cocked plan?’ Now I need another pick-up line.”
“Cockblocker by day, publicist by night. Just doing my job!”
Quinn shot him an indignant glare and then looked away. “I don’t know, Jack. I’m having second thoughts about this.”
“Quinn.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “How many times have you told me you can’t do this alone?” His tough publicist façade gave way to the face of a friend, because the truth was, he and Quinn were friends. She trusted him more than anyone else in the business and with good reason. He’d been by her side through a very tough time. The last thing he wanted to do was break that trust. “You’ve always said you need someone on your arm when you announce it to the world.”
“Always?” Quinn scoffed. “I mentioned it once – after two glasses of wine, I might add. And then you came up with this crazy idea.”
“It’s not crazy, it’s smart. This way, we control it.” And the publicist was back, pushing every one of Quinn’s buttons. “We control the whole thing. And nobody loses anything.”
Quinn shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe I have to do this. I mean, seriously?”
“I still can’t believe you’re gay, and neither will the rest of the world. They’ll think it’s some sort of stunt to boost ratings, and then they’ll hound you relentlessly until they get a photo of your girlfriend, so forget about dating for real, Quinn. No woman would put herself through that. Not even for you.”
“So, what you’re telling me is, I have to live a lie, or the world won’t believe me?”
Jack reached across his client and opened her door. “Welcome to show business, baby.”
***
“No, Dad. Nothing yet.” Lacey rubbed her forehead. These daily phone calls from her father were getting tedious. “Yes, I used the security bar on my door.” She sighed. “Dad, I grew up in New York. I think I can handle L.A.” Her eyes widened in surprise as she tracked a woman who had just made herself at home at her small table. “Dad, I have to go. Talk soon. Love you.”
“Sorry for interrupting. I hope this seat isn’t taken.”
Lacey slowly shook her head. “No.” She’d had soap fans insinuate themselves into her personal space before, usually to praise her for standing up to that TV husband of hers, or because they desperately wanted to give her advice on how the storyline should go, as if she had any control over that sort of thing. But this time, Lacey was pretty sure she was looking at Jordan Ellis. No, not Jordan Ellis. That was her character’s name on that law show. She was looking at…
“Quinn Kincaid.”
Why the hell had Quinn Kincaid just plopped down at her table? Was she a soap fan? Lacey reached across the table and took the offered hand. “Lacey Matthews.”
“Actor?” Quinn pointed at Lacey’s iPad. “I noticed you’re looking for auditions.”
Not a fan, apparently. Then again, no one was anymore. Two more rejections just this morning had cemented that fact. Lacey tossed the iPad onto the table. “Yeah, I guess I am,” she said, with a tinge of frustration in her voice.
“Anything interesting?”
“Absolutely…not…a damn thing,” Lacey answered, frowning.
“Sorry. It’s tough out there right now.”
“Not that you would know.” Lacey leaned back in her chair. It was a small table and she felt the need to regain some of her personal space.
“I got lucky five years ago,” Quinn said. “I was in the right place at the right time and I got the gig of a lifetime. I’ll deny it if you quote me. I tell the whole world how hard it is, but it’s mostly luck.”
“Oh, well that’s great news,” Lacey sarcastically replied, throwing her hands in the air. “And here I was, thinking that owning the ten o’clock slot on Thursday nights had something to do with talent.” Was it really all about luck? Had Lacey been working hard every day, honing her craft, becoming the best at what she did, only to be told it all came down to fucking luck?
Quinn’s smile brightened. “I take it you watch Jordan’s Appeal?”
Hell, no, Lacey didn’t watch the show. Why would she watch the woman her ex-girlfriend fawned over every Thursday night? Yeah, they would joke about Dani’s crush, but it irritated Lacey more than anything else, since Dani couldn’t ever seem to find the time to watch Lacey’s soap. But saying that out loud didn’t seem appropriate. “My ex watched it. Religiously.”
“I see. And what about you? What do you think of the show?”
Lacey shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly, I was memorizing my lines while she watched, but she thinks you’re amazing.” She huffed out a breath, wishing she hadn’t said that last part. Dani and her damn celebrity crushes. And they were never women who looked anything like Lacey. Always blonde, California girls. Dani had a type. Jesus! Why hadn’t Lacey ever figured that out until right now?
Quinn pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head, giving Lacey a close-up view of those ice-blue eyes she was so famous for. “Will you tell the network that? I keep asking for a raise and they keep shooting me down,” she joked.
Lacey smirked. “What, from one million per episode to two? I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”
Quinn's eyes widened in surprise. “Am I really sitting here arguing with a stranger about my pay?”
Lacey leaned forward and picked up her cup of coffee. “I introduced myself. Lacey Matthews, remember?” She took a sip and held the cup close to her mouth, peering at the woman over her cup.
“How could I forget?” Quinn picked up the coffee she’d ordered before sitting down at the table. She took a sip and the two women stared at each other for a few long seconds before she said, “Now that we’ve established how unfair this business is…”
“I’m sorry,” Lacey interrupted. “I guess I’m just a little bit bitter about the huge pay gap between daytime and primetime actors.”
Lacey was bitter about a lot of things, and sitting here looking at Quinn Kincaid wasn’t helping. The woman had it all; a great career, a great marriage to some other A-lister, enough money to last her two lifetimes, Lacey guessed. And yet, here the woman sat, flirting with those blue eyes like there was no tomorrow. With a total stranger. A female stranger.
Lacey glanced around, wondering if she was being punked.
“Look,” Quinn started. “It’s like I said before, it’s all about being in the right place at the right time, which is a perfect segue into asking you if you’d like to come to a party at my place tonight. I could introduce you to some industry people, because it’s also all about who you know. And now you know me, so…”
Lacey’s brow knitted as she folded her arms. “Weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“I’m a New Yorker. I don’t take people at face value, and this is weird.” She glanced around again.
Quinn glanced around too. “What are you looking for?”
“Hidden cameras,” Lacey replied, with all seriousness.
Quinn leaned back and laughed. Few people are famous for their laughs. Quinn was one of the few. It wasn’t a laugh that you hear across a crowded room. It was a little subtler than that, but it made you want to laugh right along with her, even if you hadn’t heard the joke. “I promise there are no hidden cameras. Well, paparazzi maybe, but not like one of those hidden camera shows. So, can I ask what you find so weird about this?”
Lacey leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Well, for one thing, I’m getting a gay vibe from Quinn Kincaid, who everyone knows is married to…” Lacey looked away for a second. “God, what’s his name…”
“Divorced. We’re divorced.”
“Are you?” Lacey was genuinely surprised, not that she kept up with celebrity gossip. That was more Dani’s thing, but she’d never mentioned that her celebrity crush had gotten a divorce. “I guess I should read the tabloids more often.”
Quinn chuckled. “Well, if you read those, you would know that the divorce was due to the fact that I’m infertile.” She put up her finger. “Oh, and also, I was too fat for him.”
“What a pig,” Lacey said, still leaning forward on the table. Their eyes locked on each other for a few seconds, and then Lacey asked, “When was the last time you plopped down at someone’s table in West Hollywood?”
“I don’t make a habit of it,” Quinn admitted. “And you can question the weirdness of it all day long, since you have so much time on your hands. Or, you can graciously accept an invitation to my party tonight.” She didn’t wait for a reply. She grabbed a napkin and quickly wrote down the address. She slid it across the table and smiled. “See you later.”
Quinn didn’t make it out of Starbucks before someone stopped her, wanting a selfie and autograph. She gave the woman both and then turned back around. Lacey was staring at her with her arms folded, looking rather perplexed. Quinn gave her a little wave and left.
***
Jack opened the door from the inside and Quinn slid into the passenger seat. “Well? How did it go?”
“You’re right, she’s gorgeous.”
Jack grinned. “I knew you’d think so. Big, brown eyes. Legs that go on forever.”
“Okay, settle down there, big guy.” Quinn watched Lacey collect her things and get up to leave. “She’s not a fan, but I kind of like that.”
“She didn’t fawn over you?”
Quinn almost snorted. “I’d say it was the opposite of fawning.”
“Hey, as long as the camera likes the two of you…” Jack handed his camera over to Quinn. “I took a few shots. The blonde, brunette thing is killer. You already look like a couple. She’s even scowling at you in one of the shots.”
Quinn scrolled through the photos, and sure enough, Jack was right. They did look good together. “We’ll see how it goes tonight. She might not even show up.”
“Oh, she’ll show up. She’d be a fool not to.”
Quinn handed the camera back and looked out the window just in time to see Lacey walking down the sidewalk to her car. She couldn’t help but smile because goddamn, Lacey Matthews had it all in the looks department. And yes, Jack was right – her legs looked fabulous in those shorts she was wearing. And truth be told, Quinn Kincaid had a thing for brunettes. “Good work, Jack.”
Finally, the praise Jack knew he deserved. “My wife says Presidents Day weekend would be perfect.”
“For what?”
“Aspen.”
Quinn shook her head at him for the hundredth time. Jack was nothing if not pushy. “Fine. Tell Amy to pencil you in.” She raised her window and rested her head on the back of the leather seat. “If this doesn’t blow up in my face before then.”
CHAPTER TWO
Lacey stood in front of the huge wooden door wondering where the hell the doorbell was. It was one of those ultra-modern homes where all the essentials like light switches and the damn handle to flush the toilet were hidden. She’d been in a home like that in New York – some unnecessary party she and the rest of the cast had been invited to. Needless to say, that particular toilet went unflushed.
And why did she have to find the doorbell anyway? Quinn had already let her in the s
ecurity gate. She was probably watching her on a security camera from inside the house. Lacey pounded on the door. She considered flipping off the camera on the overhang with her spare hand, but she thought better of it.
Quinn opened the door with a smile. “Hi.”
Lacey pushed her hands into her pockets. Feeling awkward and slightly annoyed, she forced herself to smile back. “Hi.”
Quinn opened the door wider. “Come in.”
Lacey took a quick look around but didn’t see any other guests. “Either I’m early, or this isn’t a party at all.”
“A party of three,” Quinn said. “Me, you, and if things go well, eventually my publicist.”
Lacey spun around. “So, I was right. When we met this morning, I was right?”
“Which part?” Quinn led Lacey into a meticulously decorated room. A long, white sofa faced floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on a large swimming pool. Lacey was pretty sure she got her period just looking at the sofa.
As living rooms go, this one was a blatant display of wealth. Lacey wasn’t impressed. And even if she was, she’d never admit it. She’d met a few A-list actors in her time and rarely did she come away believing they were anything but self-absorbed, egotistical – and okay, yes, they were usually gorgeous to look at, but god they could be shallow pricks.
Quinn asked again. “Which part were you right about, Lacey? The gay vibe or the not so random plop down?”
Feeling like she’d been played, Lacey didn’t bother with pleasantries as her eyes lingered on Quinn’s tits. That dress was certainly hugging her in all the right places, and clearly the moment called for just the right blend of bitchy and coy. “Play your cards right and maybe I’ll tell you.”
Quinn didn’t acknowledge the comment. She sat in a chair and motioned for Lacey to sit on the sofa. A bottle and two glasses were perfectly placed on the coffee table. “Wine?”
Lacey sat down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Trying to get me drunk?”
Quinn suppressed a grin. “You’re not a pushover. I like that.”