Hollywood Scandal

by Louise Bay

  She rolled her lips together as if she were trying not to smile. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Anytime.” I smoothed my hand across my chin as I imagined how the soft skin of her inner thighs would feel against my palms. “I didn’t see you over the weekend,” I said, even though I’d been the one avoiding her. “You and your boyfriend didn’t drop by for that glass of wine.”

  I hadn’t seen any evidence of a significant other, but I couldn’t imagine a woman like her could be on her own. The corners of her generous mouth twitched—she understood that I was trying to establish whether or not she was single. Most women would have fallen over themselves to let me know they were interested. Not Lana. It made her all the more intriguing.

  “I had to work,” she said.

  “What do you do?” Those legs would look good in a nurses’ uniform or a tight black skirt of a sexy office worker. Hell, her legs just looked good, no matter what she did.

  “I design jewelry. I have a shop in town.” She glanced at the ocean as if she wanted to get on with her run. I was late for my shower, but I wanted our conversation to continue. She held my attention, and not just because she looked so incredible, but because I wanted to know more about her world that she seemed so confident in. It seemed so far away from the life I led.

  “So you work for yourself?” I asked. “That sounds awesome.”

  She gave me a tight smile and nodded. I expected her to ask me what I did, but she didn’t. I wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t care or because she thought it was rude to pry. “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to go if I want to fit in my run,” she said.

  “No problem. I’ll be around tonight, though. Maybe I’ll see you then.” I wanted to know more about her, get to know someone who hadn’t already formed a view on the sort of person I was or what they could get out of a conversation with me.

  “Maybe you will.” She ran off down the path between our houses toward the beach. I watched her glossy brown ponytail bounce away. She was just stunning. The kind of girl next door they made movies about.

  When she disappeared out of sight, I glanced at my watch. Shit. Ten minutes. I sprinted back into the house, discarding my sneakers, shorts and socks in a trail behind me as I headed to the shower.

  All I needed to do was get clean and throw on some clothes. On set, hair and makeup would sort out the rest.

  The car pulled up as I yanked my jeans on. I scrubbed my hair with the towel and put a comb through it before grabbing a t-shirt. My phone chimed from my bed and Sinclair flashed on the screen. Shit. He’d probably heard from Audrey’s publicist about the split. I picked up my wallet and stuffed it in my pocket before I answered my cell.

  “Are you on the way to set?” Sinclair asked without even saying hello.

  “I’m just heading out to the car.”

  “You don’t want to be late.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to be late. I’m right on time.”

  “And you’re keeping it in your pants. No partying.”

  I sighed as I locked the front door. I was pretty sure I could have left it wide open and it would be fine in this town.

  “My pants are securely on.”

  “I can arrange to have Catherine fly up for a couple of nights on your next day off, if you like?”

  Jesus, did he mean that to sound as sordid as it did? Catherine was one of the two models I saw casually. But we were old friends who fooled around. She wasn’t a hooker, and she wasn’t on call for me.

  Sinclair, like most people in Hollywood, thought that the more famous you were, or the more famous a person you worked for was, the more power you had. And that was how people operated. But not me. I didn’t give a shit about fame or money when it came to how I treated people. People were people, no matter what their latest movie grossed.

  “Hold on,” I said as I pressed the phone against my shoulder and reached a hand to the driver. “I’m Matt. Good to meet you.”

  He shook my hand with a firm grip, which I appreciated. “Morning, sir. I’m Jed, and it’s my pleasure to drive you while you’re in Maine.”

  I slid into the car and Jed closed the door behind me.

  “I don’t need you to arrange dates for me. Thank you,” I said into the phone.

  “Well, about that. I think we’re going to have to switch things around. Audrey wants to pull out of your deal early, and it’s not like we can stop her.”

  Even if we could have stopped her, there was no way I would. She was doing the right thing. “She called me. I’m fine with it. She doesn’t want to split until after the premier.”

  “Yeah, so by then the studio won’t give a shit. And we can hook you up with someone else pretty quickly.”

  I didn’t say anything. I knew another contract girlfriend was the right thing to do for my career, but at some point I’d like a shot at living a normal life and being a thirty-year-old man—meet a new girl, flirt, fuck and repeat.

  I just wanted a time out. A fistful of humanity.

  I sighed. “Okay, send me some details.”

  “You don’t sound so sure. You’re not going soft on me, are you? This is what you pay me for. These last eighteen months have gone well—true love has saved your soul as far as Hollywood is concerned. All being well, you’re going to be signing onto the Anthony Scott feature in the near future, which may turn out to be your first franchise. We need to be scandal free.”

  “We’re not disagreeing.” I tipped my head back onto the headrest. He was right. “But things need to loosen up if I sign with Anthony Scott.” I paid Sinclair to do what I needed, which was to save my career. But at times he forgot who was in charge.

  “I think it will be a lot easier for you to start working your way through Victoria’s Secret models when you’re signed on to carry a major studio franchise. But generally, if you want to stay successful, you’ll keep out of trouble.”

  I wasn’t sure that I wanted to sleep with a conveyor belt of women. But Sinclair had to see that things had changed. I wasn’t about to go backward. I just wanted to take some control back in my life. I’d like to run my tongue over Lana’s collarbone, fuck her mouth, make her moan as I slid into her. I’d just like the option.

  “Yeah, I learned my lesson.”

  “So, I’ll send over some resumes tonight. Last night I heard Renee Bromley’s contract just came to an end, so I’ll call her people.”

  I rubbed my brow. Renee Bromley? “She’s fucked every guy in Hollywood. Can’t you find me a closeted lesbian?”

  “I thought you might like someone who gave you options.”

  “Renee Bromley doesn’t give me options. She’s just a star fucker.”

  “She’s a star. You can’t be a star fucker if you’re a star. And a relationship with her would bring you a lot of publicity.”

  “Surely this is about looking reliable, bankable and scandal free. Publicity is a secondary factor.”

  “But it’s still important,” Sinclair said. “It gives you double bang for your buck.”

  The last thing I wanted was to repeat the Affleck/Lopez debacle. I didn’t want tabloid column inches. I wanted my franchise, success and the money and freedom that would bring me. “What about a civilian? Someone who isn’t famous.”

  “No fucking way,” Sinclair boomed. “I’ll never do that again. We want a woman with as much to lose as you. We need a star on the rise with good management. Someone ambitious who understands the game.”

  My whole life seemed like a game with everyone else taking a spot on the board. I might bust his balls, but the guy was the best in the business. “Okay. Point taken. Send me what you have, just not Renee.”

  “Deal. But I want someone signed up before you split with Audrey. We haven’t agreed on the story yet, but you can’t be seen as weak and heartbroken. You need to move on quickly, just not so quickly you look like an asshole.”

  “Got it. You better get to work.”

  “I’m always working. Tha
t’s why I’m up in the middle of the night to call my favorite client on his first day on a new movie.”

  I laughed. It was God knew what time in LA. I might bitch about how much I paid him, but if I got this franchise, he’d have earned his money.

  “Thanks. Now, go get me my franchise.”

  I pressed cancel on my phone and stared at the ocean as we continued along the coastal road toward Portland. I caught sight of a brunette beauty running on the sand. There was no way to mistake Lana’s tempting body.

  It was important to me that Brian and Sinclair didn’t have even the slightest concern about me and my reliability. They didn’t understand that despite my previous mistakes, there were few actors who had the same drive to succeed that I did. I grabbed onto each rung of the ladder as soon as it came into sight and didn’t let go. I’d had a wakeup call. I wouldn’t need another.

  Six

  Lana

  I flipped the sign to open and propped the shop door ajar with a rock I’d found on the beach last summer.

  Tourists didn’t start showing up until after ten in the morning, but I always changed the sign at nine anyway. Mondays were generally slow, but it was the day I allocated to paperwork and catching up with what happened over the weekend. I employed someone to cover Saturdays and Sundays. But even if I wasn’t in the shop, I was usually designing or dealing with online orders. I’d never thought running my own business would take so much time and focus.

  I lifted the floor-standing sign and carried it out onto the street.

  “Hey, Lana.”

  I looked up to find Mr. Butcher standing in front of me, carrying his fluffy Pomeranian lapdog. If I bumped into him and Mrs. Wells within a couple of days, I was all caught up on the gossip of not just Worthington, but the whole state.

  “Good morning, Mr. Butcher. I see Posey has a new outfit.” I tugged at the collar of his Pomeranian’s coat.

  “She’s got an entire new wardrobe for summer,” he said.

  “She’s certainly better dressed than I am.”

  “Nonsense, my lovely. Your New York style is wasted in a town like this.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Mr. Butcher had retired to his hometown after a glamorous career in the New York fashion industry. He loved it here, and we both knew it.

  “There are parts of this town I love, but people’s style is not one of them. You’re the exception, my lovely girl. You and your beautiful jewelry. I just wish you’d let me introduce you to some of my friends. I’d have had you world famous by now if I was still in the industry.”

  I couldn’t think of anything worse than being world famous. A slice of notoriety on my college campus had been a step too far and had sent me running home. I’d never even tried to expand my jewelry line into other people’s stores. For me, small and inconspicuous was exactly what I wanted. As long as I could pay my bills and indulge my shoe habit every so often, I was happy. “Well, I told you that online orders were doing well, didn’t I? I might just conquer a little bit of the global market after all.”

  “You’re very talented. I’m sure Saks would fall over themselves to see your work.”

  “You know me, Mr. Butcher. I love what I do, and being in Worthington works for me.”

  “There’s a big world out there—Paris, Rome, London. You don’t want to explore? You don’t want the biggest stars in the world wearing your designs?”

  That had been the dream. Once. Before I could fathom what that kind of success would mean giving up. The privacy, the control, the ability to oversee all the details, ensure the quality. “Some people are happy living small-town dreams.”

  “Oh well, you must tread your own path. You just have so much potential. Now, tell me. Have you heard about the movie filming nearby?” he asked, his eyes lit up with excitement in an exact imitation of the look his dog gave me every time I brought out a biscuit.

  “Mr. Butcher, I’m disappointed. That is old news. What has the world come to when you’re telling me gossip I’ve already heard?”

  Mr. Butcher’s shoulders rose conspiratorially. “Have you spotted anyone in town? Someone saw George Clooney antiquing in Portland over the weekend.”

  “Well, I doubt anyone will come to Worthington.” The town was quaint rather than glamorous.

  “Perhaps you’ll run into that man Mrs. Wells has said is about to appear in your life.”

  I straightened out the sign, making sure it was tucked in against the wall to provide a little shelter from the ocean breeze that could whip up around here out of nowhere. “I’m sure there’s meant to be something sacrosanct between fortune teller and client. Mrs. Wells shouldn’t be spreading such wild rumors.”

  “Oh, it’s just between us. She’s so excited for you.”

  I tried hard not to roll my eyes. “Well, I can assure you, there is absolutely nothing to be excited about. I like my feet firmly on the ground. I have no desire to be swept up in any kind of storm. I keep telling you, I’m happy with my life here.”

  Mr. Butcher gave Posey a kiss on the nose as if he wasn’t listening to a word I was saying, which he probably wasn’t.

  “I have some paperwork to get on with, so please excuse me, Mr. Butcher.”

  “Of course, dear. Posey and I are just going for our morning promenade.”

  “All eyes will be on you both, I’m sure.” Dressed in a cream, double-breasted suit and a trilby hat, Mr. Butcher couldn’t help but draw the eye. No one was going to miss him. I’d seen him a couple of times posing for pictures with tourists. He loved the attention.

  “You are such a charming girl. You’re going to conquer the world one of these days.”

  I leaned forward and gave Posey a kiss between her ears. “Have a good day, you two.”

  The sun was hot and bright as I watched Mr. Butcher and Posey head down to the sea front. Hopefully, the good weather meant the tourists would be here and ready to shop.

  I pulled up the stool to the counter and logged on to my laptop. My first job was always to check sales and place any necessary orders from Massachusetts.

  As I began going through the sales, my phone rang.

  “Hey,” I answered when I saw Ruby’s name. “How was your weekend?”

  “Chas and I split.” Her voice sounded far away as if it was too much effort to speak louder.

  I took a breath before I replied. I didn’t want to sound as relieved as I was. “Oh God, Ruby. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, he told me he didn’t want to be tied down.”

  “But I thought it was casual?”

  She sighed. “I thought so, too. I guess I can’t even get casual right.”

  “Hey, this isn’t you. He’s a man-child. You need to find yourself a grown-up.”

  “Or I should just retire my vagina.”

  I laughed. She was always so dramatic. “Take a breath.”

  “Can’t you come down and spend the weekend in New York? I want a girls’ night out. Maybe both of us will meet someone.”

  “I can’t.” More importantly, she knew I wouldn’t. “I have the shop and the house is rented. I have to be here.” Images of bare-chested Matt flashed into my head. Did he ever wear a shirt? I supposed with the chest he had, he wanted to show it off. His skin this morning had looked hot, and I’d wanted so badly to reach out and press my fingertip against his shoulder, just to check if it burned.

  “You’re not in the shop on weekends, and the renter next door doesn’t need you to be there.”

  I pressed print on the list of orders that had come in. “Why don’t you come back here for the weekend?”

  Ruby sighed. “I need to flirt my way out of misery. Who am I going to flirt with in Worthington? Mr. Butcher?”

  I chuckled. “Posey would get jealous.”

  “What’s going on there anyway? Any news about Mrs. Wells’ prophecy? Any men washed up on the shore?”

  One. Next door. He was too tall. Too handsome. Too close. Usually, renters came and went and I never saw them. For
some reason, I kept running into Matt, as if our daily pattern had become entangled.

  I pulled the first two sheets of orders from the printer. “You know this place. Same old, same old.”

  “So come to New York,” she pleaded, drawing out the vowels like a five-year-old.

  “I can’t.”

  Silence reigned on the other end of the phone.

  “It’s not like it was in college, you know. There are eight million people in this city, none of whom give a shit about you. Just come back for a visit.”

  I didn’t want to have this conversation. There was no point in bringing up the past. It was done, and I didn’t want to think about my untrustworthy ex-boyfriend and how he’d ruined college for me, sending me home to Worthington, my dreams in pieces. “I have a customer. I’m going to have to go.”

  “I didn’t hear the bell ring.”

  I smiled. She knew me far too well. “The door is open. Try not to obsess over Chas. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hung up and stared out toward the ocean. This place was beautiful. Safe. I was surrounded by people who’d known me my whole life and knew who I really was. Why would I ever want to leave?

  Seven

  Matt

  If today was anything to go by, The Perfect Wave was going to hit it out of the park. The director was a great communicator who seemed to respect his cast and crew. We’d had numerous conversations over the past few months about how I saw this character, and we were totally aligned. He seemed to like what I’d done in preparation and had been obviously relieved when I knew my lines. Luckily for me, my co-star was equally focused and professional. We’d gotten through things faster than I expected, and I was on my way back home by six.

  I grinned as I remembered the jokes from the crew, which was always the sign of a happy set. Not that the bitching wouldn’t start later, but at least right now there wasn’t tension and unhappiness draining all the creativity from the production.

  I was psyched. The next six weeks were going to be great.

  We pulled up outside my cottage and before Jed had a chance to open my door, I sprang out. “I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.” My call time’s varied, but there were a lot of early mornings. I slammed the door shut.