Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie Trilogy)

by Kimberly Stedronsky

  “They questioned her ex, did you know that?”

  I glanced at Vivian’s phone, recalling the conversation I’d just had with Numero. “Yeah. Look, I don’t want Vivian to worry. We’ve got the ball tonight, and then we start shooting next week-”

  “You’re still going tonight? You think that’s smart?”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s smart. It’s happening. We need the publicity for this movie, and I want to dance with my fiancée.”

  “We’re coming up. Put some fucking clothes on. Oh, and happy birthday, kid.”

  He disconnected.

  Minutes later, two FBI agents, Frank, and Emmet were parading into my apartment. Before I could ask them to keep their voices down, Vivian appeared in the doorway of the living room, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She wore bed head like a true movie star, looking nothing short of glamorous in my overly-expensive, monogrammed robe. I’d never worn the thing- Kelsey had gotten it for me for Christmas two years ago.

  Her gift looked amazing on my future wife.

  “What’s going on? Keaton?”

  Her soft voice drew everyone’s attention, and I moved to her quickly, nodding at the group.

  “V, you know Frank. This is Emmet Hastings, my PR manager.”

  “Pleasure to finally meet the source of all my overtime,” Emmet called, giving Vivian a little wave.

  “Hi,” she replied quietly, her eyes darting to the other two people in the room.

  They were exactly who I’d cast to play the part of the agents on the case; man, late sixties… I’d already decided on Tommy Lee Jones. The woman, late forties, was fresh-faced and probably gorgeous beneath her heavy jacket; Diane Lane. Maybe Ashley Judd.

  “Federal agents,” I told Vivian, and both Tommy and Ashley flashed their badges.

  “I’m Agent North, and this is Agent Carson.” The woman swept her hand in the general area of the couch. “Can we talk?”

  “Vivian doesn’t know what’s happening,” I replied, looking pointedly at Frank. “And I’d like to fill her in privately. Please excuse us.”

  Before any of them could protest, I backed Vivian into my- our- bedroom, closing the door.

  “What is going on?” She reached for her ponytail, and I took her hands before she could begin twisting the long, dark strands.

  “Listen. There was another murder. At Idlewild, right in front of the Round-Up where I proposed to you.”

  “What?” she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “And the victim is a woman. She resembles you.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she cried, her eyes wide. “Keaton, is someone after me? Us?”

  “It’s obvious that whoever is doing this tried to frame me from the beginning. Only a handful of scripts were sent out. Now that it’s out there for the crew, this guy has decided to get personal. The fact that this victim looks like you can’t be a coincidence. And the park-”

  “I can’t believe they can’t find him! It’s the fucking FBI! How fucking incompetent are they, that they’ve let this go on this long?”

  “Honey, we can hear you from out here, FYI.”

  I recognized Emmet’s voice, almost smirking.

  Vivian flushed, but I could see that she was still fuming. I was glad she’d decided to let pissed off win over frightened, but on the same token, I needed her cooperation. “Okay, deep breaths, kiddo.”

  “Deep breaths? Deep breaths?” Her voice raised an octave higher with each word. I silenced her with a kiss, pulling her up and against me. My tongue took over, and she moaned softly, letting my mouth drug her harried thoughts.

  “No time for that, kids!”

  Emmet again. I pulled away, forcing a grin to my lips as I reached for her nose, pinching. She tried for furious, finally taking a deep breath.

  “Okay. Let’s go. I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be. No one is getting near you. I’ll have bodyguards on us twenty-four seven if I have to. I already called Kevin Costner.”

  “Keaton.” She rolled her beautiful eyes.

  “What? Now that Whitney’s out of the picture, he should be available.”

  “You’re an ass.” She tucked her hand in mine, letting me lead her back out into the living room.

  Starstruck

  V

  “Let me zip you up.”

  “By ‘zip me up’ do you mean take my dress off?” I asked, forcing a lighthearted tone.

  He caught both of my index fingers in the air, attempting to nip at them with his teeth.

  I pulled them away quickly, trying for a smile. “Let’s just stay here,” I suggested.

  His grin fell, and he tucked his hands in mine. His suit couldn’t have fit him more perfectly; his freshly shaven face fell. “Are you afraid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though Agents Jones and Judd told you not to be?”

  I quirked my eyebrow at him. I could tell that the federal agents weren’t happy when Keaton decided to make jokes through our entire meeting.

  “There are going to be so many people there tonight. I feel like I have a gigantic target on my back.”

  “Nope.” He turned me around gently, making sure to run his finger along my spine as he zipped up the gown. “No target. Just sexy.”

  I swallowed hard, focused on my phone on the dresser. Finally, gathering my confidence, I reached for it. “I would like to call Matthew back. Are you okay with that?”

  He immediately shrugged, nodding toward my phone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  I decided not to answer him.

  I couldn’t stop worrying. About Keaton, about my parents, and about Matthew. Knowing that the FBI was at our house… his house… made me sick to my stomach.

  It wasn’t enough for me to break Matthew’s heart. Now, I’m putting him in danger.

  “Two minutes,” I promised, pulling up my contact list.

  “Take your time. The limo isn’t here yet.”

  I watched as he left the room, wondering if I’d have the same self-control if he were on the phone with his ex-wife. I hit call, and Matthew picked up on the first ring.

  “Vivian?”

  “Hey.” His worried voice was comforting, but sent waves of guilt coursing through me. “Are you okay?”

  “Me? I’m fine. I’m worried sick about you.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Not anymore.”

  “I’ll never stop caring about you, no matter where we end up, honey.”

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, repulsed by the instant longing that rooted in my heart. How? Why do I miss him? It was over, we’d made our decisions, as sloppy as they were, and we were no longer each other’s.

  We never would be again.

  “The FBI was here, Matthew. They said not to worry, but Keaton’s still anxious. I can tell. We have security on us twenty-four seven. Armed.”

  “Your parents are beside themselves. They hate how they left things with you.”

  “You’ve talked to them?”

  “The FBI was at their house, too.”

  “I’m sorry… I can’t believe this is happening,” I murmured, so helplessly, and he sighed heavily through the phone.

  “Thank you for calling me. I didn’t think you would.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

  “I didn’t call to talk to him this morning, I called to talk to you.”

  “I know.”

  After a long silence, his voice sounded, clear and controlled. “I want you to consider keeping your distance from him.”

  “Matthew-”

  “No, listen.” He hardened his words. “At least in public. As long as the media continues to make the two of you out into this big Hollywood bullshit love story, you’re at risk. Whoever is murdering these women, he’s obviously got it out for Thorne. I don’t want this psycho using you to hurt him.”

  “You think that’s what he’s doing?”

  “It’s pretty obvious at this point. That pict
ure of him proposing to you at the park was all over the news, and the killer chose that location to strike next?”

  “And that poor girl,” I whispered, remembering her face as we’d watched the news.

  “She could have been your twin. All I’m saying is- you’re an actress, right? Act. Break up for the media. Make it look like he doesn’t care. Don’t let him make you a liability.”

  “This isn’t a movie, Matthew, this is real life, and-”

  “It’s so fucking surreal, it may as well be,” he snapped, and I stiffened at his cursing. “Think about it. Please. God, Vivian, please.”

  I could feel his unspoken words.

  I love you.

  I lifted my shaking hands to my hair, patting a long curl that I’d so painstakingly placed for the ball. “I’ll think about it,” I agreed finally, my voice wavering uncontrollably.

  “You know, there have been reporters here, Vivian. Asking to talk to me. Dirty tabloids wanting the scoop on your ex. I haven’t spoken to them.” His words were edged with careful patience. “I wanted you to know.”

  The guilt crushed my windpipe, and I held my stomach, trying to fight back the surging nausea. “I’m so sorry. Matthew.”

  “I’d better go. Be safe.”

  He disconnected.

  I tried to imagine a swarm of reporters on the front lawn of our little bungalow. His bungalow. God, I wanted to just hug him… as wrong as that may be… and apologize, in person. Again. Really tell him how sorry I was that he was even involved in my crazy life.

  I was scared to death for him.

  “V, the limo’s here.” Keaton appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of concern. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” I resisted the overwhelming emotions, taking his hand. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “Wait.” He lifted my left hand in his, slipping a ring over my finger. The black diamond was oval, surrounded by several small, white diamonds, and I drew in a stunned breath. “There. Okay, now let’s do this.”

  “What is this?” I asked. He walked behind me, pulling a matching necklace from his pocket and gathering my hair to the side of my neck.

  “It’s jewelry, Vivian. Something I never see you wear. Something I’m going to drown you in, because you’re about to become a movie star. My movie star.”

  “What about my engagement ring?” I asked, admiring the gorgeous set in the mirror and loving the way the dark diamond played off the design in my dress. “Shouldn’t I wear that?”

  “Not tonight. Let’s make them wonder if you’re really, truly mine.”

  I tried to believe his words, that it was all a show for the paparazzi.

  But I knew.

  He was trying to protect me.

  Taking a deep breath, I focused on the ring, thinking of Matthew’s words.

  . . .

  The limo ride lasted nearly an hour, and Keaton spent much of it on the phone. I listened to him talk business, admiring his easy shift from playful and teasing to commanding and cool. He had a way of making the people working for him believe that he was asking for their opinion rather than giving a direct order. I grinned as he sent a wink my way. He was deep in the middle of a conversation with my new acting coach.

  “Yes. Yes, we’re still filming, Eli. Yes, there will be security on the set. Listen, if you’re uncomfortable by this whole situation, I won’t hold you to the contract.”

  He listened to the man speak, and I traced the edge of my ring, looking down at my feet.

  “Fine. No, I understand. No, I can work with her, it’s fine. Listen, I have to go, but call Kathy and let her know. Thanks.”

  He disconnected, moving across the limo to sit next to me.

  I lifted my face to his. “Did he quit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because there’s potentially a murderer threatening my life?”

  “That’s the word on the street.”

  “Do you want to recast the part of Kristie?”

  “No.”

  I’d expected a witty answer from him, and his short response was disheartening.

  And telling.

  “Happy birthday,” I said softly.

  He held me tighter. “Thanks, kiddo.”

  “Why do you think… she’s a girl?”

  His entire body relaxed against mine, and his hand fell to my waist as his mouth moved to my cheek. “Because you are the most beautiful, feminine thing I have ever seen. I can’t imagine you growing a penis in there.”

  I rolled my eyes, laughing and turning into his arms. “I can’t believe you.”

  “Believe me.”

  He held me for a while, swaying with the limo as the vehicle moved through traffic. “Are we allowed to… dance? I mean, it is a ball, right?”

  He let go of me and leaned forward toward the open bar in front of us. I watched as he poured himself a glass of some kind of dark whiskey. “You’re going to meet a lot of famous people tonight. Some won’t dance. Some won’t leave the dance floor. And most of them will be too busy to dance.”

  “So who are we?” I asked as he tipped the glass back, downing the drink in one gulp.

  “We’re dancing.”

  “You’re a good dancer, Maverick.”

  He grinned at my Top Gun reference, and I knew he was thinking of Luke’s wedding. “Play a game with me.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” I smirked, nudging him with my shoulder. “Your games have ridiculous rules, and you always win.”

  “Play.”

  “No.”

  “Entertain me. Play.”

  Exasperated, I stifled a giggle, sitting back against the seat. “Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What are we playing?”

  “I call it Scenes. I think, my little video store girl, that you can handle it.”

  “Let’s hear it, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “One of us starts. Either I say a line from a movie, or do something significant from a movie, then the other has to follow with the scene. You don’t know it, you lose a point. Most points by the end of the night wins.”

  I looked up at him, confused. “Give me an example.”

  After thinking for a moment, a slow grin spread over his lips. He kept his eyes on mine, lifting his palm to his mouth. As he exhaled, his warm breath smelled like the whiskey he’d just downed.

  He slapped his palm against the window behind me, leaving it for a moment before pulling away.

  I watched the shadow of his hot palm print tattoo the glass before evaporating.

  “Titanic,” I said quickly, half laughing. “In the car, in the cargo hold under the ship. Jack and Rose.”

  “And what were they doing?” he prodded, sliding over me on the seat.

  I let the cool leather press against my back, smiling up at him. “They were making love. On the ship of dreams.”

  He chuckled, catching my lips in his as his hand slid up my leg, under my gown. “Do you fully understand how to play now, Rose?”

  “Mm-hm.” I sighed into his kiss as he pressed the button for the privacy window, separating us from the driver.

  “Mm-hm, what?” he demanded, tugging at the zipper of his dress pants.

  “I’ll never let go, Jack,” I managed.

  His sexy grin told me that he was fully entertained.

  . . .

  The moment we stepped onto the red carpet, I felt like all of my dreams had come true.

  At that very same moment, I felt like I hadn’t done a thing to deserve any one of them.

  Keaton led us slowly down the walkway, his hand in mine. Cameras flashed, people called out and a group of screaming girls nearly fainted. I watched as they yelled Keaton’s name, recognizing the two beefy security guards behind us as they moved in.

  “…the Hollywood High School Sweethearts, and they’ve dressed the part. Simply adorable!” Some reporter weaved her way over to us, her press pass bobbing against her breasts. Her sleek, black gown and sky-high heels made me feel too short and inadequate
to be talking to anyone on camera.

  “Hi,” I smiled, and fuck if thirty-five different camera flashes go off all at once. A microphone was between us, and I finally read her badge.

  Close-Up Magazine.

  Holy shit.

  “Vivian, will you tell us whose dress you’re wearing?” she began, and I lifted my face. I knew that my eyes were giant, blue saucers, and my heart was ready to pound out of my chest.

  “It’s… mine,” I stammered, and the crowd erupted into entertained laughter.

  “It’s such a pleasure to be the first to formally speak with you,” she said, her smile so wide I was sure there was Vaseline lining her gums. “And you’re just as witty and sweet as I’ve heard!”

  “Thank you… Jenn,” I added, thankful to have caught her name on her pass. The heated flush that passed over my neck as I realized that she was asking about my gown’s designer nearly sent me scratching into hives.

  Breathe. Breathe.

  “The pleasure’s mine,” I added. “And to answer your question, it’s Oscar de la Renta.”

  “You are stunning. This has to be an original.”

  I looked over at Keaton, who was already deep in conversation with another reporter. “I’m honestly not sure. Keaton surprised me.”

  Her face was positively glowing at that point. “It fits perfectly!” she cried, astounded.

  “He knows my body very well,” I replied, and then melted into a puddle of mortification on the ground.

  As I blushed, I automatically covered my stomach with my hands, and she beamed, going in for the ultimate scoop.

  “I’ll bet,” she said, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. “I’d say lucky girl, but I can tell that he’s the lucky one. When?” she bravely asked, gesturing to my stomach.

  I felt Keaton’s eyes fall on me.

  I could have simply shrugged with a secretive smile. I could have ignored her with a polite grin and walked on.

  Instead, I did the exact opposite of what Matthew had asked of me.

  Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I leaned into Keaton as he joined my side.

  “March,” I replied as Keaton pressed a loving kiss to my forehead. This time, a bazillion cameras flashed from every direction. “Keaton’s convinced she’s a girl.”