by Paige North
We leave a trail of curious stares in our wake on our way to the elevators.
“You do realize,” I say as we stand there waiting for the doors to open, “that in a few minutes, we’ll be all over social media. The press will be shedding crocodile tears about how you cheated on poor little nobody me with J.Page. Then they’ll research me and find out about Sebastian…”
“Which we knew would happen, right?” He kisses my hand. “And if anyone calls you a nobody, I’ll—”
“Please don’t say ‘punch their lights out.’”
“I was going to say correct their misconception through diplomatic means.”
He smiles down at me, and I don’t doubt a word of what he says. I’m his everybody, and he’s mine. But then I start to think again about why we’re here, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get.
J.Page can suck it.
The elevator opens and we step inside the car, all alone. The doors close on us, and Colt turns and braces his hands on either side of me, looking down into my eyes until my breath flutters in my chest. His gray-blue gaze tells me that I really am his world, and he wouldn’t have anyone but me by his side right now. He kisses me tenderly, and as the elevator dings at our floor, my head swims.
“Are you ready?” I whisper.
“Yeah.” But his eyes have gone dark. This is the only hint that the outcome of this meeting means more to him than he’s letting on, and I grab his hand again as we walk into the eleventh floor lobby.
The female receptionist lights up when she sees Colt, then clears her throat as if remembering J.Page’s stupid story about his rogue dick. I squeeze his hand before he starts thinking about his own dad and how that piece of garbage left Colt and his mom. Even if Colt isn’t really the father of J.Page’s baby, he’s got to be feeling like his own asshole father, and I despise J.Page even more for making him feel like that.
The receptionist lets Murray Cantor know we’re here and shows us to his office. Surely it’s a good thing that they’re not making Colt wait in the lobby, right? I don’t think they’d force a rising star like him sit around twiddling his thumbs…
But when we enter a room, the news doesn’t look so great after all. First off, this isn’t an office—it’s a conference room, and a tall, skinny, dark-haired man is standing by a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the hills and valleys of LA. Seven other designer-suited men and women are seated around the table, and none of them get to their feet to greet us.
Nerves are shooting through me as Colt introduces me to his agent Murray—the one standing by the window. Murray barely acknowledges me, because he goes right into introducing everyone else in the room to Colt. I don’t remember any of their names, although it registers vaguely that there’s a CEO here, as well as a managing director and some cofounders.
It looks like they’ve brought the big guns.
When they seat me in a chair away from the table, Colt bristles at the slight, but as I smile at him, he takes a seat with everyone else. His jaw is clenched so hard that I think it might shatter, and everyone is staring at him.
“Ah, Colt Brooks,” Murray says as he sits. “How I wish you’d lived up to the high hopes J.Page had for you. If it weren’t for her, you would’ve been one-and-done with your first movie. Tell me… Why exactly did you think it was a good idea to work her over?”
I tense in my seat, and as everyone in that room stares at Colt, he somehow keeps his shit together.
“Page is lying about me,” Colt grits.
“You have your version of events and she has hers,” Murray says. “But even if she is lying, she’s been spreading her story on the eve of Mystery Man’s release about how you impregnated her and ditched her. That’s even more of a problem than we had when you were pulled from the movie’s press junkets for your bar fights.”
Someone in the room clears his throat in irritation.
“The optics aren’t good,” Murray continues. “Not good at all.”
One of the poised women in the room speaks up. “Here’s the thing: as far as the public knows, J.Page is pregnant and her romantic lead is the deadbeat daddy. Do you know what that does to a movie opening?” She lasers her gaze at Colt. “It kills every ladyboner that anyone ever had for you. It creates empty, limp seats in the theaters.”
Then she looks at me as if she’s still wondering what the hell I’m doing in here…or maybe she’s wondering why I’m sticking with what she thinks is a womanizing creep.
I ignore her, because Colt is gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles are white. I move slightly, catching his eye, and when he sees me, his death grip loosens.
“After Page takes a paternity test,” Colt says, “we’ll see who’s lying.”
Murray sighs. “Brooks, that still isn’t the point. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter if J.Page is lying. J.Page never loses. With a few well-placed words, she’s already ruined you.”
The bald man at the head of the table speaks up. I think he’s the CEO. “Let’s just cut to the chase. We’re releasing you, Colt. This agency can’t represent you any longer.”
The air goes out of the room, or maybe I’m the only one who can’t breathe. But from the way Colt momentarily closes his eyes as if he’s just absorbed a powerful blow, I know it’s not merely me. I want to lash out at the injustice of this, the total and utter bullshit, but the CEO is talking again.
“Your reputation has become radioactive, and the production company is even considering holding off on releasing Mystery Man in a week and going direct to video. They’re thinking of suing you for the money they’ve invested and are bound to lose.”
I explode. “Can they do that?”
They ignore me, because Colt is already rising out of his chair. He’s livid as he looks every person at the table in the eye, then walks over to me and helps me up. As he rests his hand against the small of my back, I can almost feel the anger running through him.
He faces them. “Page doesn’t own me, but it’s obvious that she owns every one of your asses. Have fun working with that monster.”
Complete silence ushers us out, and I hold Colt’s hand as we move through the lobby, then get onto the elevator. I’m trembling, and I’ve got a lump in my throat not because I’m devastated for Colt, but because I’m so proud that he didn’t become the old Colt, losing it with all those awful people, raging around the room and turning over tables and getting himself another all-expenses-paid night in jail.
This is Sebastian’s daddy, a man.
My man.
He blows out a long, furious breath as the elevator goes down, then takes out his phone.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“I’ll give you one guess.”
And I’ll give this to Colt—he has enough brittle patience to wait until we’re out of that building and by ourselves in a private spot with a fountain nearby before he dials. He puts the call on speakerphone, because I sure as hell want to hear this.
J.Page answers with a bitchy bark. “Hah! Are you calling me because your ass has been let go?”
Colt looks at me as he talks, and there’s cold fire in his gaze. “I’m calling because you’re getting a paternity test, Page.”
She doesn’t have anything to say to that, and Colt clenches his teeth.
Finally, she answers, her voice shaky. “Colt…you wouldn’t do that to me.”
“You better fucking believe I would. I’m contacting a lawyer the second I get off this phone.”
I pump my fist, but Colt is still as serious as can be as J.Page wails, “You’ll ruin me!”
“Familiar story. So who’s the actual, unfortunate father, if you’re even pregnant?”
She starts crying, and I’m sure she’s going for the Academy Award for Best Piece of Shit in Existence.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Colt isn’t letting up. “Whose is it?”
“Like I’m going to tell you!”
“At least tell me why the hell you did this.”
She sniffles, and when Colt still doesn’t relent, her voice goes hard. “Okay, okay. I guess I was hoping that you’d…I don’t know…step in and help me out.”
Colt frowns, and I roll my eyes. Is she freaking kidding?
J.Page starts crying again. “You’re a good man, all right? I thought you would do the job.”
We’re both shaking our heads in absolute disbelief as Colt says, “So you thought I would take up the responsibility of being the father, even though the child isn’t mine?”
“Yes,” her voice is very small.
“And you thought I would do it even after you left a voicemail accusing me of getting you pregnant and calling me an asshole for leaving you in the lurch? Did you think I wouldn’t recall the truly significant fact that I never slept with you?”
“I was upset because I’d just found out the news. And I was…drunk.”
Whoa.
I think of Sebastian and how, after I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol because I knew better.
This poor little kid.
Now J.Page is crying again, but it sounds real: body-wracking sobs that I recognize because I’ve been weeping so much lately too. I share a look with Colt, and even though he’s still disgusted, he obviously feels bad for her.
A good man. Funny how someone like her caught onto that when my own family is still coming to terms with the possibility.
“Page,” Colt says. “You need help.”
“From…you?”
Oh brother. There’s hope in her voice again.
Colt shakes his head. “I’m talking about professional help. Maybe—”
“Go fuck yourself!” she screams. “Your career is so over!”
She hangs up, and Colt just stares at the phone. I walk over to him and slip my arms around his waist.
I have no idea what to say, so I settle on a platitude. “That baby would’ve been lucky to have you as a dad.”
He tucks some hair back behind my ear. I lean my cheek against his firm chest as he holds me too. He sighs, and the sound travels through me.
“Even with everything that fell apart today,” he says, “I’m somehow relieved. And, oddly enough, I’m not afraid of what might happen next, as long as I have you and Sebastian.”
I draw back from him, and he smiles down at me, making warm shivers rain through me.
“With you two,” he says, “I can do anything.”
He clearly means it, even if he might be sued by the production company. Even if he might have to give back that ten million dollars he was paid for Mystery Man.
And if those two things aren’t terrible enough, everything gets even worse a few days later when a so-called online critic leaks a screener for the movie to the public before its release date, dooming Mystery Man even more.
Chapter 5
Colt has already left the house to go to an out-of-the-way beach alone with Sebastian, taking a morning walk. I know he really needs some quiet time after what happened last night when Mystery Man was pirated all over torrent sites, so I didn’t protest when he rolled out of bed after tossing and turning beside me for hours. Before he departed, he murmured that he just needed a place where he could spend time with our son away from the constant phone calls and reminders of the shit that went down.
When we got word of the leak, I didn’t dare watch the movie, even though I was as curious as hell. I stayed in the dim family room with Colt, reminding him that everything would be okay and that Sebastian and I were here for him. He smiled at me, although there was a lot of darkness that came with it. Then, when he left this morning, I grabbed my laptop and started watching the flick, and I haven’t stopped since.
Now that the end credits are rolling by on my laptop screen, I sink back into my pillows on the bed. I’m numb with what I just saw, and it has nothing to do with how J.Page and Colt were romancing each other so charmingly and convincingly. It doesn’t even have anything to do with how the movie only reminds me of how the press has been roasting Colt because they’ve found out about me and Sebastian, accusing him of being a serial baby daddy when they don’t have any idea yet that J.Page is a lying shrew who’s going to be taking a paternity test if the court has anything to say about it.
No, what’s stunning at this moment is the awesomeness of this film—and how fucking great Colt is in it.
He’s got such swagger, such natural charisma and comedic timing, and as much as I hate to say it, his chemistry with J.Page is ferocious. And it’s all going to waste now that the movie has been exposed on the internet.
In a stupor, I set the laptop aside, finally getting ready for what promises to be a long day ahead. After I shower and get dressed, I go to the nightstand where I put my phone, then scroll past all the messages from Margot and my other friends who have heard that I got together with Colt. I don’t find any messages from him, though, so I’m about to put the phone back down when it rings.
I answer it because it’s Carrie Leigh’s number. “Hello?”
“Serena!” Colt’s personal assistant says. “Can you believe it?”
“I just saw the movie and, yes, I can believe it was that good. I’m just sick about how it got leaked, and now the studio’s going to lose even more money on it—money that they’re going to go after Colt for.”
“Oh, Darlin’. You are about five steps behind Hollywood life this morning.” Carrie Leigh laughs. “I’m guessing you haven’t checked out any industry sites or film geek boards. Am I right?”
I sit down on the bed. “After I finished the movie, I turned it off. I didn’t look at any comments on the torrent site or anywhere else.”
“Well, it seems we’ve got a wonderful turn of the tables going on.”
What?
She continues. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of Colt, but he’s not picking up. That’s why I’m calling you. Is he there?”
“No.” I wake up my computer. “What the heck is happening, Carrie Leigh?”
“Oh, it’s just that the people who watched the leaked movie are fucking loving it! And, more to the point, they love Colt!”
OhmyGod, OhmyGod, OhmyGod… “Sources, please?”
“The Hollywood Reporter, Deadline Hollywood, Variety… There are posts on all those sites about how a star is being born right before our eyes. The studio suits would be idiots not to go ahead and release this film as planned, starting overseas. My God, Colt’s already got a bunch of Tumblr pages devoted to him. People can’t get enough.”
I don’t know if I like the sound of that. I don’t want people blogging about Jennifer Page and Colt in that movie and calling them “J.Colt” or posting fan fic about his “hot ass.” Still…
Carrie Leigh says, “Would you get a hold of him for me? Then have him call me, because I’ve already got three agents who’ve contacted me, salivating to sign him.”
Squee!
I thank her then call Colt with one hand while checking online for news about the success of the movie with the other. This is like a dream, and unlike the awful things that have recently been happening with J.Page, this is anything but a nightmare.
Before Colt picks up, I get a text from Carrie Leigh.
I just learned that the production company IS going ahead with the US release of Mystery Man! We’re on a roll!
This is happening faster than I can keep up, and when he answers, I gush, “Colt! It’s Mystery Man! Carrie Leigh called to say—”
“Slow down, Cookie.” He laughs. “I’ve just been looking through my messages. Remember my ex-agent Murray? He’s left several voicemails already.”
“You’re not going to return his calls, are you?”
Colt only laughs again then totally ignores the question. “Bash and I are about to hop in the car to come home. We had a great morning together. He found a few shells he wants to show you.”
He’s talking about shells at a time like this?!? How can
he be so cool?
But I let it go just so he can just come home to me as soon as possible, and the moment he walks in the door with our son, I fly into his arms. Sebastian doesn’t know why the mood has suddenly gone from sedate to crazy, but he laughs along with us anyway as we all huddle together.
The celebrating doesn’t end there either, because, soon after, when Mystery Man opens in overseas theaters first, it’s a smash.
And so is Colt.
“I don’t know about this.” I’m looking at myself in front of the long beveled mirror in the bedroom, checking out the Valentino gown my new stylist picked out for the US premiere of Mystery Man. Its long, red mermaid skirt flares out just above my jeweled, silver Manolo Blahnik heels, and the waist is cinched, the bodice tight enough to make my boobs look movie-star worthy. “This dress doesn’t exactly hide these hips that helped me have a baby less than a year ago.”
Margot, who traveled down here to celebrate as well as to babysit Sebastian during this special night, sighs. She’s wearing shorts and a tee, and she bounces down to the bed. “Oh, Serena. You’re just…”
She puts a hand over her heart, and that’s a good enough compliment for me. I turn back to the mirror and inspect how the hairdresser styled my auburn locks into a smooth, long style that curls over one shoulder, and how the makeup artist gave me smoky, sexy eyes and sultry red lips. On one hand, I look like the Serena I’ve always known, yet I don’t look like that Serena at all anymore.
But when Colt appears behind me in the doorway, it doesn’t matter which Serena I look like, because deep down, I’m all his, and that’s all that matters.
He’s gorgeous in his tuxedo. The suit hugs his broad shoulders, and the darkness of the fine fabric emphasizes what a tall, stately stud he is. He’s worn his hair loose and free, and he consumes me with his hot gaze. The only three things stopping me from rushing over to pull him into a dizzying kiss are: 1) Margot’s in the room, 2) I don’t want to make that stylist come back to this house to repair my makeup and hair, and 3) Colt is holding Sebastian in the crook of one arm.
The baby is staring at me as if I’m an A-list movie star, just like Colt now. With the success of Mystery Man overseas, the box office projections here in the states are going through the roof. So are the amount of articles and blog posts dedicated to him online. Even if the press has already exposed that Colt belongs to me and that we have a child together, that fact seems to have only made him sexier to the public.