Injury

by Tobin, Val

  Fury made her turn on him. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re my manager, not my parent. I don’t have any parents.” Dani’s voice was shrill. Tears threatened.

  John covered the distance between them in two long strides.

  Dani thought he’d hug her then, but he didn’t. Her body shook, and she wished he’d put his arms around her. She hungered for a touch—any touch. A flashback to five years ago when she’d tried to seduce him and he’d rejected her seared through her head. “I’m going in the shower. When I get out, you’d better be gone.” She didn’t need him—she didn’t need anyone. She was Daniella fucking Grayson. If she needed company, she could find it.

  John’s eyes narrowed, and when she tried to break past him, he grabbed her by the arm. “No. I’m not going anywhere until I know you won’t tie one on when I leave. I understand you’re going through a difficult time. That’s why I’m here. Yell at me all you want. I’m not letting you ruin yourself no matter what that harpy of a mother did twenty years ago. Is that clear?”

  Dani nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.

  “Say it.”

  “I won’t get drunk.” But oh, Christ, she wanted a drink. This time, when John suggested making Dani something to eat, she agreed.

  Chapter 3

  A veggie omelet, a piece of toast, juice, and hot coffee filled her belly, and Dani fought the urge to run into the bathroom and throw it up. To keep her thoughts off the toilet, she collected their dishes and focused on cleaning up the meal.

  The fear of getting fat and losing her career was a constant throb in her stomach and made eating difficult. Rehab and a therapist had helped to get it under control, but Dani found that when the stress backed up on her, the anxiety became almost impossible to manage.

  “Thanks for breakfast. Dinner. Whatever.” Head tilted toward her shoulder, Dani smiled at John, who sat on the couch in the living room.

  “Glad to see you eating.” He frowned, probably worrying she’d relapse. “Will you be okay?”

  Dani eyed the bathroom door, an involuntary motion, and as soon as she realized what she’d done, she snapped her attention back to John. Would she ever be able to eat without that rising stress? “I don’t starve myself anymore, and I don’t throw up. I watch what I eat and I exercise. ‘Kay?”

  John stood and joined her in the kitchen. “I’m worried about how you’re coping. When’s your next therapy appointment? If it’s not tomorrow, make one with Doctor Hadley. Talk it through.”

  “I’m fine.” Dani continued to rinse the dishes and stack them in the dishwasher.

  “I saw the interview with Henderson. He told you to call him. If you agree to do the picture, you’ll be working with him—and there’ll be love scenes. Between that and everything that’s happened this morning, you’ll need a professional to talk to. Call Hadley. It’s not showing weakness to see a therapist—it’s a way to stay strong.”

  Dani didn’t reply, just dumped soap into the dishwasher, snapped it closed, and turned it on. It ran silently, the humming fridge the loudest sound in the room. A glance at John showed him waiting for her response.

  “Last night, I had a few drinks with friends. I’m not an alcoholic.”

  “Said every alcoholic in the history of alcoholics.”

  Dani shot him dagger eyes. “The drinking is under control. I stopped, no problem, before, and I can do it again. You know I don’t drink when I’m working on a picture. Even Hadley said I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t have all the signs, but I do have to be aware of what I’m doing to deal with my problems.”

  “As soon as you woke up this evening, you wanted a drink. You’ve already had one DUI. When do you get your license back?” Hands fisted on his waist, John leaned toward her, face flushed.

  Dani sighed. “Three months. All right, I get it. When the news about my mother broke, it shook me up. Most people dealing with that would want a drink. Give me a break, okay? And I’m paying for what I did when I was dating Greg Henderson.”

  “What are your plans for tonight?”

  “Liz is coming over. Don’t worry. If we go out, we’ll behave.”

  John frowned again. “Will you tell her about the sequel?”

  “Yes. She’ll want to audition, and I’ll help her get a part.”

  Elizabeth Logan and Dani had met five years before on an audition that, for Dani, had been a disaster. Sick with the flu, she’d shown up to the audition anyway because rent was due and she had no money.

  The waiting did her in.

  Crowded into a holding area with fifty other hopefuls, Dani forced herself to sit straight. She tried to look like the character she wanted to play: a confident, powerful young leader of a youth group who would one day become president. Liz, seated next to Dani, chatted with her to help take Dani’s mind off her nausea.

  All their efforts shot to hell when the casting director called Dani into the room. She threw up on the floor in front of him, the meager contents of her stomach splashing onto his shoes. Dani left the room in tears and huddled in the bathroom for the next two hours.

  After her audition, Elizabeth coaxed Dani away from the toilet, helped her get home, and then lent her rent money.

  They’d run into each other at subsequent auditions and struck up a close friendship even though they competed for the same parts. When Dani’s career took off after the success of Injury, Liz admitted a touch of envy, but Dani vowed Liz would benefit from the good fortune.

  Dani unabashedly used her star power to help her friend get ahead. Since then, Liz had landed great roles and carried them well. In the meantime, the two young women enjoyed the attendant party life.

  John picked up his jacket and put it on. “You going to call her, then?” To make sure, he waited.

  She didn’t know whether to be grateful or resentful. Grateful. He cared about her even if he wasn’t in love with her. Dani picked up the phone and called Liz, who said she was on her way.

  That settled, John said his goodbyes, and Dani walked him to the door. “What if they’re still out there?”

  “The reporters? They won’t be in the hallway. I had security take care of that. But no doubt they’ll be hanging around outside the building.” He paused. “Warn Liz. She’ll get swarmed.”

  Dani hugged John, brushing her lips against his cheek for a chaste kiss. When he’d left, she wandered back to the TV. Should she turn it on? She wasn’t sure what had happened with her mother. No one had called her. Yet. She fully expected the police investigating the murder to contact her.

  While she contemplated, the phone rang. John must have plugged it back in. Voice-mail picked up, and she listened to herself telling the caller she wasn’t available. After the beep, a woman spoke. Jeanette. Dani snatched up the receiver. “I’m here. Just screening.”

  Jeannette’s sexy voice, deep and throaty from years of smoking, floated through the receiver. “Dani, I’m so glad to hear your voice. Are you okay? So sorry about your mother. It’s such a shock.”

  “I’m fine.” Dani folded herself onto the couch, legs curled under her.

  “Did John mention the sequel?”

  “Yes. I’m considering it.”

  “What’s to consider? Darling, nine million dollars. And a share in the revenues. This is a sure thing.”

  “Henderson and I have issues. John suggested I think it over—maybe demand to have him written out of the picture.”

  “You’ll be fine. You’re both professionals. Why didn’t you tell me you two were having problems? Was it that bad?” Jeannette’s voice held fear.

  Dani couldn’t tell if it was fear of Dani backing out of the series or fear for Dani if Greg came back into her life. “He was toxic. That’s all I’ll say.”

  “The studio wants both of you. They won’t be okay with writing him out of it. You’ll risk everything. You know these guys: they can make or break you. Piss them off, and your career, which is in the stratosphere, will tank. They’ll offer you shitty, dumb
blonde parts.”

  “I’m not blonde.” Dani smiled.

  “That’s not funny, darling. They’d make you dye it and give you vacuous parts that damage your career.”

  “There are other studios.”

  “You’re still under contract with this one for at least four more films. Don’t fuck with them.” Jeanette sounded desperate now, and a shiver of fear bolted through Dani.

  “He has bizarre tastes. I can’t get involved with him again.” Dani didn’t want to talk about him anymore. It brought back too many unsavory memories. What would seeing him every day for months do to her?

  “Are you saying you’re pulling out? Because that won’t fly. What would make it easier for you to say yes?”

  Dani considered how to respond. Silence hung heavy. Jeannette’s breath puffed into Dani’s ear, and Dani realized the agent was smoking. “Do they know there’s a problem?” Of course, the studio knows. The execs had watched the relationship implode during the promotional tour for Injury.

  George Manning, Danger Play head, had hauled both Dani and Greg into his office during a break in their marketing travels. He ordered them to get over it, or he’d sue them both. Dani had done as ordered, avoiding Henderson whenever possible, and linking arms and canoodling with him in public when the job demanded.

  But she’d been more naïve then, lacking confidence, and did whatever the older and, she assumed, wiser adults around her told her to do. It had never occurred to her to consult with a lawyer.

  Why hadn’t John stepped in and defended her? But she brushed that aside as soon as she thought it. John hadn’t accompanied her on that tour, and she hadn’t confided in him. He still didn’t know the truth, and Dani liked it that way.

  When the silence had dragged on too long, Dani broke it. “What did they say?”

  “They insist on the two of you. John should have told you how critical it is to accept this role as offered, including Henderson’s presence. You’re both adults, Dani. Rise above your personal issues and do your job. The pool of big-name celebrities right for that role is small. They can’t replace Henderson with another actor—Greg owns that role. And they sure as hell don’t want to write him out.”

  Jeanette took a long drag on her cigarette and continued. “I’m not saying you can’t carry the film, but the magic happened because of the chemistry between you and Greg. I don’t suppose you could date him just for the duration of the filming and the tour? How bizarre could his tastes be? A little BDSM? It’s all the rage now. Most women would kill to be with him.”

  “No, I can’t. He’s an asshole, and I don’t want to date him, not even for nine million dollars. I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.” Yet when John had suggested she back out of it, Dani had argued. Why was she now fighting against doing it?

  John was right. Dealing with that narcissist daily would be stressful. She recalled Henderson’s expression when he stared into the camera and spoke directly to Dani during the interview she’d seen on TV earlier, and her stomach clenched.

  Call me, sweetheart. I’m here for you, baby.

  The public thought he was a romantic figure she’d jilted. Damn him. Call him? No, Greg, I don’t fucking think so. Sweetheart.

  “Darling? Are you there?” Jeanette’s voice cut through Dani’s musings.

  “I’m here.”

  “Want to tell me what happened?” She sounded serious now. Dani detected a note of compassion, and it calmed her.

  “No. I’ll say he was a jerk and leave it at that. He’s not dangerous.” He’s not dangerous. That was something she’d told herself daily after they’d gone their separate ways. She wanted to believe it, because if it wasn’t true, she was a coward for not reporting him, and another woman might suffer for it.

  “He’s not dangerous,” she repeated, convincing herself. “But he’s bad for me. He’s controlling, jealous.”

  “Oh, well, he was smitten with you, darling. The whole world could tell he had goo-goo eyes for you. Did he hurt you?”

  “Not so I should press charges.” She paused again. She’d just given Jeanette a big broad hint at the truth and hoped the agent would miss it. To Dani’s relief, Jeanette did—or she chose to overlook it.

  “Well, that’s fine, then. If you two can play nice while the picture shoots and during the marketing tour, then we’ll all get a nice chunk of money from it. Shall I tell the studio to send the contract over? You can sign it tomorrow. They want to start production next month.”

  “Can I give you an answer in the morning?”

  Dani heard a loud sigh, and it wasn’t Jeanette taking another puff of her smoke.

  “Darling, this should just be a formality. The studio is under pressure to get this film off the ground. If you drag your heels on it, they’ll be upset with you. Four movies, remember? Who pays your bills, Dani? Who made you a star? Do you want to be labeled difficult?”

  The threat behind Jeannette’s words wasn’t an empty one, and Dani knew it. She could handle Henderson—she wasn’t a naïve girl anymore. Dani couldn’t afford to make a misstep in her career, and she had to keep the studio happy. When she’d fulfilled her obligations, and her contract came up for renewal, she could consider going elsewhere. “Okay, Jeanette. Tell them I’m in. Has Greg’s agent replied?” Maybe Henderson would turn it down though Dani suspected he’d jump at it.

  “I haven’t heard. But that’s great news. I’ll call the studio right away. Talk later, darling.”

  Dani hung up the phone and eyed the liquor cabinet. She wasn’t working on a film; she could have one drink. It’s not like she’d get snockered. Besides, Liz was on her way over, and they’d go out to a club. Of course, they’d have a drink while they hung out. Dani fixed her gaze on the liquor bottles and decided to have the martini John had denied her earlier.

  Chapter 4

  Robert “Cope” Copeland sat at the bar watching Dani and Liz gyrate around the dance floor. Cope had worked for four years for the limo company Dani’s manager used to procure drivers. He’d been driving Dani around and doubling as her bodyguard since she’d lost her license three months before, though he’d been an occasional driver for her during the filming and promotion of Injury. Not that she’d remember. She’d been plowed most of that time.

  At first, he’d thought the job akin to babysitting a spoiled rich brat, and he should know—he used to be one. But she’d turned out to be different than the average nobody thrust into wealth and fame at a young age. Dani didn’t act spoiled, and she didn’t throw money around. She was beautiful, of course, and he’d felt the pull of her charisma luring him in. He’d lusted after her from day one, but he’d kept it in check. The income from the job was more important than any woman right now.

  Cope wanted to own his own limo company and had been working long hours to save up the money he’d need to get it off the ground. A graduate of UC Berkeley with an MBA, Cope wanted to build the business himself, though his parents were wealthy enough to help him out. His mother pestered him to let them give him the money every time he visited.

  But he knew there’d be a steep price to pay if he conceded—and not in cash. They’d own him, probably swallow his company whole, merging it with the rest of their conglomerate. That had happened to his older brothers, and Cope had concluded it wasn’t for him.

  A coffee in front of him, Cope’s gaze followed the girls as they wove around the other dancers. Almost all eyes were on them, and they made a gorgeous pair. Both young women wore short dresses that hugged their bodies. Their spike heels threw them off balance, giving a sexy sashay to their hips.

  They never glanced at him, which was typical. To Cope’s chagrin, Dani remained oblivious to his existence if she wasn’t telling him where she wanted to go. He suspected she didn’t even remember his real name half the time though he’d helped her up to her apartment often enough after a night of hard partying.

  At least this night looked tame compared to the usual antics the girls got up to.
But since he’d had to rein in an attraction to her, had behaved himself, the least she could do was acknowledge he existed. He knew he wasn’t her type, which was anyone old enough to be her father. Cope figured he’d never be in the running whether he worked for her or not. He was only four or five years older than she was.

  A guy standing on the sidelines, swaying drunk, leered at Dani. Cope frowned. In here, a place frequented by celebrities, no one pestered her for an autograph. The management frowned on it, and anyone harassing the patrons would get ejected. Outside she was fair game, and Cope had helped her dodge the reporters and fans vying for her attention when they’d first arrived. There had been far more of them than usual since the news of her mother’s arrest had broken. He’d figured it would be a tame night once they’d gotten inside.

  This guy looked like trouble though, and Cope figured he’d need to keep a close eye on him. Guys like that might try anything, including slipping her a roofie. The creep sidled closer to Dani and Liz.

  Tan, wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt and cargo pants, the letch crept nearer. One hand swept down to block his crotch from her view the closer he got to her. The jerk was trying to conceal the hard-on he sported.

  Casually, Cope took a sip of his coffee without taking his eyes off Creepy Guy. Cope would wait and see Dani’s reaction to the douche before interfering. Whatever Cope’s opinion of the guys Dani dated, it wasn’t his right to interfere if she wanted the attention. After all, she’d dated that sleazebag Greg Henderson for months, and Cope could only stand back and watch. It had been like Bambi versus King Kong, and Cope had wanted to slug that fucking ape on more than one occasion. Instead, he’d had to drive them around and call the son-of-a-bitch “Mr.”

  Creepy Guy had arrived at his target and tapped Dani on the shoulder. His lips moved, then Dani’s as she replied to him, but she shook her head while she spoke, so that was good. The guy took her hand then, and Cope sat up straight, itching to jump over there.