Casting Lacey

by Elle Spencer

  ***

  “Are we good?” Quinn asked.

  Lacey still wasn’t sure why Quinn felt the need to follow through with this crazy plan, or even that it would achieve her goal. Hollywood was a very fickle town, after all. But that wasn’t her concern. She took another quick glance around the guesthouse. “I need my career back, and if this is what it takes, I’m all in.”

  “Good!” Quinn said, looking rather relieved. “On to business then. I start shooting season six in two weeks, so we’ll go out a few times before then for photo ops.”

  “How do you know the paparazzi will be there?”

  “Jack will handle that part.”

  “So, you’ll let me know what to wear for those photo ops?”

  Quinn looked Lacey up and down. “You’ll go to my stylist this week and she’ll set you up. We’ll do some casual stuff and a little more formal as well. I’d like to take you to a friend’s wedding this weekend, if you’re up for it. Again, just as friends.”

  “Whatever you need,” Lacey said with a smile.

  Quinn eyed her skeptically. “Why so nice all of a sudden? Surely you want to give me crap about dressing you.”

  Lacey grinned. “Jack said I can keep the clothes.”

  “Ah. I knew there had to be an ulterior motive.” Quinn tried not to smile back, but the effort proved impossible.

  Lacey bit her lip. “And the Range Rover.”

  “Wow!” Quinn chuckled. “Are there any other demands I should know about?”

  “Don’t expect anything of me in private.”

  The smile quickly left Quinn’s face, along with the positive energy they’d managed to have in the room for about five seconds. “Now, who’s being arrogant?”

  “Whatever. Just…when I’m on set, so to speak, I’ll shine for you. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “And off camera, you’ll be angry and bitter. Got it.”

  Lacey grabbed Quinn’s arm as she tried to leave. “Look, I just…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Quinn said, shooting her a glare. “Do your thing when we’re in public. That’s all I ask.”

  “I will. I promise. And I’m sorry that I’m coming across like a complete bitch. This is just a crazy situation, you know?”

  “I know,” Quinn replied, softening her tone. “Look, I’m sorry I told you we’d never fuck. I mean, we won’t, of course. But I’m sorry I said it like that. It was rude.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lacey said, smiling. “It hurt more when I heard we wouldn’t be canoodling in public.”

  Quinn laughed. “God, you’re something else.” She pointed toward the door. “Should we go get your things?”

  “I don’t have much. Just the suitcase and carry-on I brought to the main house.” She finished the sentence off with a stuffy British accent. Quinn rewarded her with a smile she was trying very hard to suppress.

  They walked side by side past the pool, Lacey with her hands tucked into her pockets. Quinn was about the same height as her ex-girlfriend, so just a few inches shorter than Lacey. She could easily put her arm around her shoulders, and Quinn’s arm could wrap around her waist. When the time came, that’s the way they should walk for the cameras. Lacey grinned, thinking it might be rather fun to put on this little charade, blocking the scenes, right down to how they held hands. Maybe this actually could feel like real acting work.

  “Is something funny?” Quinn asked.

  “No.” Lacey picked up both bags. “I’ve got this. See you in the morning?”

  “I stocked the fridge for you, but the coffee maker in the main house is much better, so feel free to come in and use it.”

  “Well, I do love good coffee. And I’ve always wanted an excuse to say ‘the main house,' so you're on.”

  Lacey took her luggage to the guesthouse, dropped it by the bed and then went back to the door. She leaned against the doorframe, taking in the beauty of the backyard. It looked like a resort with the gorgeous pool and lounge chairs with thick white cushions she could sink into. And why waste a single second of my time here, she thought.

  It took about 30 seconds for her to change into a bikini. She’d only brought the one – a simple, black style that was comfortable and fit well enough to do laps. And this pool was certainly long enough to do laps. She’d have to go shopping for a few more swimsuit options. Maybe something more colorful, more “California.”

  Lacey looked at herself in the mirror. She’d always had a nice body. Long legs, flat stomach, nice ass. Even with the pressures the soap world put on women to enhance their beauty, she’d managed to stay natural. She didn’t need breast implants. Her tits were fine. Not too big, not too small. One of the producers had suggested she try to plump up her lips a little bit and she all but told him to fuck off.

  No, Lacey Matthews would never succumb to the pressures of producers and directors, most of whom looked like they’d never seen a green smoothie or a vitamin, or even a salad in their lifetimes. Assholes.

  Lacey walked outside and threw a towel on the one of the lounge chairs. She stood at the edge of the pool, staring down into the calm water. “This could be the easiest job I’ve ever had,” she said to herself, right before diving into the pool.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lacey didn’t want to get out of bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept straight through until morning. It was eerily silent. No car alarms or garbage trucks or horns honking – the sounds that punctuated her memories of growing up in New York City. Not even the sound of gardeners, which seemed to be L.A.’s unique soundtrack. Just silence. Oh, and a bird chirping somewhere in the distance.

  She’d left the privacy curtains open, giving her a view of the pool through the French doors. What a view to wake up to, she thought. She rolled over and checked her phone. The first thing she saw was a text from Jack.

  We’re at the hospital. Beverly & San Vincente. Get here as soon as you can.

  What the fuck? She quickly typed a reply and then jumped in the shower. She’d planned on spending the day in her swimsuit while she caught up on her laundry. Everything was dirty. “Shit!”

  What the hell was she going to wear? She got out of the shower and dug through her suitcase. The only clean thing she had was a blue, flowery skirt she’d yet to wear, mostly because she hated it. It was too high-waisted, but she’d brought it just in case… actually, she had no idea why she’d brought it. Shit.

  She put on the skirt and a bra and went into the main house. She had no idea where Quinn’s bedroom was. She scanned the main floor and decided it had to be upstairs. She opened the first door and found what was obviously a guest room. It looked too sterile to actually be lived in. She closed that door and went to the next. Bingo.

  Immediately drawn to the floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the room, Lacey pushed a white sheer curtain to the side and discovered a balcony with a breathtaking view of the ocean. She wanted to step out onto that balcony, but she stopped when she remembered she wasn’t yet fully clothed. That, and she was expected to be at the hospital soon. She turned back around and scanned the room. The bed was made up, the feather duvet carefully tucked in at the ends. Huh. That seemed strange since as far as Lacey knew, Quinn didn’t have a live-in housekeeper. Were those hospital corners the work of Quinn Kincaid herself? “God, she’s tidy.”

  Lacey went into the bathroom. It smelled like Quinn; soft vanilla-ish something or other, and it was just as tidy as the bedroom. The only thing sitting on the two-sink countertop was a toothbrush resting on a neatly folded white towel with the toothpaste tube evenly lined up next to it. On the other side of the room was a huge bathtub that Lacey eyed with envy, since it was a luxury few New Yorkers had.

  She flipped the light switch on for the closet and the whole room lit up. “Holy shit!” Shoes were neatly stacked on special lighted shelves. The clothes seemed to be color coordinated and separated according to season. Jesus, Quinn. OCD much?

  She rifled haphazardly through a
rack that seemed to be strictly summer blouses and found a white, short-sleeved gypsy style blouse. She quickly put it on and shrugged at herself in the mirror. It didn’t look great with the skirt but it would have to do. She looked at the rack again and noticed the mess she’d made. Most of the blouses had been pushed to one side and were no longer equally spaced. She tried to separate them but quickly gave up. “Aw, screw it.” She didn’t have the patience for such ridiculous perfection. Besides, it might do Quinn some good to see a shirt or two askew.

  She went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. No makeup. Wet hair. She opened a drawer and found more perfection. “Who the hell keeps their makeup drawer so organized?” She picked up a blush brush and ran it over her cheeks, then tied her long, wet hair up into a ponytail. Again, it would have to do.

  ***

  Fucking traffic. By the time Lacey walked into the hospital, she was frazzled and hungry and in desperate need of a cup of coffee. She saw Jack sitting in the lobby and headed in his direction. “What happened?” she impatiently asked.

  Jack took her by the arm and led her to the elevators. “Quinn broke her arm this morning, mountain biking. It’s pretty gruesome.”

  “Oh my god.” Lacey stopped dead in her tracks.

  Jack took her arm again and kept walking. “She’s just come out of surgery and we have her on a private floor. I’m going to put out a statement in about an hour.”

  “Jack, you didn’t need to call me down here to tell me the deal’s off. It’s cool. I get it.” Lacey hadn’t even unpacked yet, unless you counted all the clothes she’d tossed around looking for something clean to wear. God, if Quinn saw her guesthouse right now, she’d be horrified. Actually, if Quinn saw her own closet right now, she’d be even more horrified. Lacey suddenly felt like a kid whose mom was about to find out she’d broken the lamp.

  “Our deal’s not off,” Jack said. “Not yet, anyway. I’m still going over our options, but we figured we better have you here for the show in case we decide to go forward with this.”

  “You can’t be serious, Jack. She needs to focus on getting better, not on some fantasy you invented.”

  Jack held the elevator door open. “Oh, for god’s sake, Lacey, it’s a broken arm, not the end of the world. Just come up with me and we’ll work it out. Trust me, she wants you here.”

  Lacey stared at him, not sure what to do. He motioned with his head for her to get in the elevator. Against her better judgment, she did.

  ***

  Two hours later, Lacey was still sitting in the waiting room. Jack walked in and waved her over. “She’ll see you now.”

  Three cups of bad hospital coffee, a dying phone battery and an uncomfortable chair had made Lacey cranky. And on top of that, none of this made any sense. She got up and brushed past him, walking down the hall faster than necessary. “This is ridiculous. She has no business worrying about coming out of the damn closet right now.”

  Jack grabbed Lacey by the arm. “Slow down honey, and if you don’t mind keeping your voice down just a little, that would be great.”

  Lacey pulled her arm away. “I’m not your honey, Jack. And I thought you said this was a private floor.”

  “Private. Not empty.”

  Lacey stopped and took a deep breath. “Sorry. Where is she?”

  Jack opened the door to Quinn’s room. “Just hear her out and then let me know your decision.”

  Lacey slowly walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Quinn looked like hell. She had scratches on her face, a black eye, and a big friggin’ cast on her arm that was being propped up with pillows. This wasn’t good, and Lacey felt like an intruder. She took a few steps back, hoping to get out of there without being noticed, but Quinn opened her eyes. Well, one eye. “Hi,” Lacey said, giving her a little wave.

  Quinn motioned that she wanted Lacey to come closer with a very limp wave of her hand. Lacey stood at the side of the bed, gripping the safety bar. It was even worse up close. Quinn’s left eye was swollen shut and she had several nasty looking bruises on her good arm. Lacey wasn’t sure what to say. She swallowed hard and was about to make a joke to lighten the moment, when Quinn said. “Do I look as bad as your face says like I look?”

  “Worse,” Lacey said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

  “Fabulous.” Quinn pointed at the lighted x-ray on the wall with her thumb. “Check that out.”

  Lacey grimaced. “Oh my god! Is that your arm?”

  “What’s left of it,” Quinn slurred. “I hit sand and went head first over my bike, right onto a pile of boulders. Smashed my humerus. I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too. Not the best timing.”

  Lacey reached out to touch Quinn but pulled her hand back. “Look, I totally understand if you want to back out of our deal. My feelings won’t be hurt at all.”

  Quinn tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a drunk groan. “You have feelings?”

  Lacey smirked. “Okay, I guess I deserved that.”

  Quinn closed her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. “These drugs are fantastic. And that blouse looks better on you than it does on me.”

  Wow, she doesn’t miss a thing. “I, um, I was going to do laundry today, but something came up. Hope you don’t mind that I found something in your closet. I promise I didn’t move anything.”

  “No, that’s…” Quinn’s head slowly drooped to one side as she fell asleep mid-sentence.

  Lacey plopped down into a chair and settled in to watch Quinn sleep. She was pretty sure the drugs were the only reason she didn’t get reamed for going through Quinn’s closet. She looked at the clock and then focused on her phone. She needed to start looking for auditions again. Surely Quinn’s family, her friends, the people closest to her would descend on her house, leaving no room for Lacey or this stupid plan. She groaned when her phone took its last breath and went dark.

  ***

  “Hi, I’m Stephanie, Ms. Kincaid’s nurse.”

  Lacey looked at the clock again. She’d been sitting there for half an hour. “Hi Stephanie. I’m Quinn’s…I’m Lacey.”

  Stephanie administered more pain meds and ran down her checklist. “Everything looks good, so I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

  Lacey stood up. “You’ll make sure she stays medicated, right? You won’t let the meds wear off?”

  “I only have two patients today, so it won’t be a problem.”

  “Thank you. I watched my mom suffer.”

  Stephanie nodded her understanding. “I won’t let that happen.”

  There really wasn’t any reason for Lacey to stay, since Quinn was so heavily medicated. And if there was one thing in this world Lacey hated, it was hospitals. Quinn was in good hands. Except, why were there goosebumps on her arms? Was she cold? Lacey glanced around, looking for another blanket. She found one, along with a set of sheets and a pillow sitting on a recliner. Oh, god. They didn’t expect her to sleep the night here, did they?

  Lacey unfolded the blanket enough to cover Quinn’s shoulders and arms.

  “Thank you,” Quinn whispered, her one good eye barely opening enough to focus on Lacey.

  Her throat sounded so dry, Lacey picked up the mug of water and rested the straw on Quinn’s lips. “Take a sip of water.”

  Quinn took a couple of sips and immediately fell back to sleep again. Lacey set the mug down and stood motionless for a moment. She couldn’t be here. It brought back too many bad memories of her mother, lying helpless in a hospital bed, slowly dying.

  Quinn wasn’t dying. Lacey knew that. Still, it was too much. She wanted to say something. Some words of comfort. At least, a goodbye. But her own throat had dried up. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered, and then quickly left the room.

  She went down to the cafeteria and poured herself a tall cup of coffee to take with her in the car. She wasn’t about to go back into heavy traffic wit
hout one. She saw Jack sitting in a chair in the lobby as she was walking out. “She’s too medicated to talk. I’ll come back tomorrow,” she told him without stopping.

  Jack stood up. “Lacey, keep this under wraps, okay?”

  Lacey stopped and turned around. She was angry that he’d forced her to be here when Quinn was obviously in no condition to even talk, let alone make a major decision. “Jesus, Jack. We still have a contract. I’m pretty sure that covers broken arms. Besides, who am I going to tell?”

  Jack put up his hands. “Just sit tight until we figure out the next step.”

  Lacey stepped into his personal space and lowered her voice. “If you’re really as good as you say you are, you’ll convince your client that this whole thing is a bad idea. Especially now.”

  Lacey walked away but Jack followed her. “It’s a good idea, Lacey. Hell, it’s an even better idea now. And it’s not over, so get back on board and earn your money.”

  Money. Lacey definitely needed some of that. The first payment wasn’t supposed to hit her account for three more days. She stopped just outside the door and pulled the keys to her new Range Rover out of her purse. She stared at them for a second and then at Jack. She needed this gig whether she liked it or not. “What do you need from me? And please don’t tell me I have to sleep in that damn recliner all night.” She put her hand on her hip and chided herself. It was a selfish thing to say out loud and she knew it. “Is that what you need? What Quinn needs?”

  “When you come to pick Quinn up in a few days and take her home, wear something nice.” Jack looked her up and down. “Nicer than this. There will be cameras.”

  Lacey looked down at her ill-fitting skirt and worn out leather sandals. She made a mental note to find the business card Quinn had given her with her stylist’s phone number on it. Maybe it would be fun getting a new wardrobe. Maybe the stylist could give her a new attitude, too. “Fine,” she said. “Anything else?”