Redemption of a Hollywood Starlet

by Kimberly Lang

  Finn let her go ahead and angled off towards Cait’s. Her door was standing open, and as he approached, a duffle bag landed at the bottom of the steps. He stepped over it and entered without knocking.

  Cait seemed to be sorting through a stack of papers on the table. With a sigh, she just scooped them all up and shoved them in her backpack. When she stood and saw him she froze. Then she sighed again. “By all means, come on in.”

  The trailer was stripped of all personal items already. “You seem to be in a rush.”

  “I’ve been ready to go for two days now. I don’t have much here, or at the condo so I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  “For New York or L.A.?”

  “New York, actually.” Her voice was falsely friendly. “I left so quickly that I left some things unfinished. Then I’m taking a short vacation, and I’ll be back in L.A. in a couple of weeks. If you need me—for something Folly-related,” she clarified, “my agent will know how to find me.”

  Cait was cold and distant, and all but telling him to forget her phone number. Her attitude hadn’t improved over the last two days. But then, hadn’t Cait already proved she could carry a grudge?

  She zipped up the backpack and hiked it over her shoulder. “I would like to thank you and Dolby and Walter for this experience. It’s been a great opportunity for me.” She lifted her chin, seemingly proud of herself.

  Since she wasn’t going to bring it up, he was going to have to. “About the other day …”

  Her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. “Yeah. I guess I should apologize for slapping you.”

  “You were stressed.”

  She snorted. “Don’t make excuses for me, Finn. I said I should, I didn’t say I was going to. You deserved it.”

  This was a change. He hadn’t expected her to be so adversarial about it. He didn’t know what he had expected, but whatever he’d planned to say escaped him now.

  Her attitude changed and her voice became crisp and irritated. “Do you need something? I have a lot to do before I leave.”

  “I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

  “Just fine.” She smiled and lifted her chin, but the smile was plastic.

  “You’re a good actress, but even I’m not believing that.”

  “You’re right. I’m not fine.” Her face softened and, eyes downcast, she closed the space between them. “This is such a mess.”

  “It’s blowing over already. By the time you get to L.A., something else will have taken its place.”

  “I was talking about us.”

  The sudden change threw him. And when her hand came up to rest on his chest and trace over his heart, the muscles twitched involuntarily.

  “You know, I missed you so much when I left. I nearly called a dozen times.”

  Her voice was husky, longing, and it brought out a similar feeling in him. “Why didn’t you?”

  “It was hard, but I’d been kicked around so much by the press—and you were all tangled up in that—and I was hurting. I figured a clean break was best. You know, leave it all behind.” Cait’s voice was low, and her eyes followed her hand as it moved over his shoulder, his arm. “I thought I’d moved on, but I guess I’m a little like the media. Unable to forget.” She fell silent, but her hands continued to move, stoking the fire. Finally, she spoke again. “Do you want to know why my love scenes with Jason were so hot? Because he wears the same aftershave you used to. I could smell it and picture you. Picture us.”

  His skin tightened.

  “Some memories are just burned into your soul, you know? I thought I was over it, that I’d be able to resist, but I was wrong. I told myself I could have one small taste without danger. I was so wrong. You’re my drug, Finn, and I simply can’t resist. Even when I know it’s bad for me. So it got me thinking …” She lifted her eyes to his then, and he nearly recoiled from the anger and bitterness there. Her hand came to his nape and she pulled him closer. “Why resist?”

  He grabbed her shoulders and set her away from him. A smirk played at the corner of her mouth. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing, Finn. I’m actually feeling quite right, and I owe that to you. So if you want one more for the road …” Her face was a picture of innocent confusion, but her words hit him with the same force her slap had. “What? Isn’t that why you came here to see me? What you wanted?”

  So much for understanding her. For thinking they somehow made sense together. He felt foolish, and he didn’t like it. “Silly me. I came to check on you. I was worried.”

  “Ah. No need to worry about me.” She moved away and perched on the edge of the table. “Why the face, Finn? I’m doing exactly what you told me to do. You’ve been right all along.”

  “About …?”

  “Not giving a damn what other people think. It’s very … liberating.” There was something dangerous in her voice.

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  “So I’ve decided to quit fighting it. Every town needs a bad girl who tries but never quite gets redeemed. It gives them someone to root for and feel superior about at the same time. I think I’ve found my niche.”

  He could see the anger and frustration radiating off her, but it was the determination that worried him. “What happened to your great redemption story?”

  “Eh.” She waved a hand. “I shouldn’t try to play outside my range. People can tell when it’s false. You certainly saw right through it. I hope you’ll understand, though, when I say that we’re kind of played out as well. I’m only looking to you for inspiration, not participation.”

  Finn didn’t know what to say. He needed to say something, but this Cait seemed like an entirely different person, and he had no idea where to even begin with something that wouldn’t make this entire farce even worse.

  She seemed to be waiting for him to speak, and when he didn’t, she pushed to her feet and rubbed her palms on her jeans. “So, I think that’s a wrap. Are you here in your official capacity as producer?” She waited for him to shake his head. “And you’re not here for sex, so I guess we’re done.”

  Cait grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  “Cait …”

  She sighed. “You’ve got some talent, Finn, but you’re really not that good of an actor. Don’t try to pretend you care. It’s beyond your range.”

  Finn was speechless, and the feeling didn’t sit well.

  Caitlyn felt as if she was choking. Her throat felt closed and tight and it was nearly impossible to inhale. She’d been running on anger and outrage and frustration for days now, but the pain was finally starting to break through.

  That had been the performance of her life. Definitely award-worthy. But, damn it, she would not let Finn toy with her like that.

  She hadn’t being lying, though, about the addiction. She’d been foolish enough to think that a taste of Finn would be safe. That she’d be able to put him behind her again.

  She’d been horribly wrong. And the withdrawal symptoms were killing her. She loved the big jerk, but Finn wasn’t capable of returning the feeling. Hadn’t he proved that three years ago? Why had she gone and put herself back there again?

  Because she was an idiot. A glutton for punishment. Even now, as much as she was hurting, she wanted him. If he hadn’t pulled away, she’d have happily …

  She had to give him some credit, though. Finn hadn’t misled her; he’d been upfront from the start. He wasn’t the one changing the rules mid-game and then crying when the other side didn’t want to play.

  No, this was her mess. Because the same things she hated about him were the same things she loved about him. The acceptance. The freedom. The lack of pretense. It was honest, but without more it felt shallow.

  She laughed at herself. Oh, the irony. Looking for depth in Hollywood was a fool’s errand. Unfortunately, after a lifetime in that puddle she really wanted something in her life that had some depth.

&nbs
p; And Finn wasn’t it.

  Of course she had to accept the fact that maybe she wasn’t that deep, either, and that bothered her. For now, at least. If it were true … well, she’d learn to accept it. Maybe embrace it even. It wasn’t defeatist; she simply needed to find her strength and play to it. Even if there wasn’t much to that strength.

  With a sigh, she started the car and looked up to see Finn standing in the doorway of the trailer, watching her. It was impossible to read his face. Possibly there simply wasn’t anything there to read.

  She took a deep breath and was glad to feel the constriction in her throat loosen at bit as she realized she’d accomplished more than she thought.

  She’d faced down Finn and survived, after all. She could face down Hollywood, too.

  Finn tossed his cards on the table and Brady reached over to flip them faceup. When he saw Finn’s hand, he sighed and nudged Ethan. “The idiot went all in on a pair of absolutely nothing.”

  Both his brothers looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Finn shrugged.

  Granddad’s game room at Hill Chase was decorated to evoke old-fashioned gentlemen’s clubs: dark woods, leather chairs, muted lighting. From the bar and dartboard at one end of the room to the pool table by the balcony doors, it was a masculine space, perfect for brotherly games of poker at the card table in the middle. The rest of the main house was quiet—the Grands, Lily and Aspyn had retired long ago, leaving them to beer and cards.

  Brady had the “Disappointed Big Brother” look down pat. “Is there nothing sacred to you?”

  “What? It’s poker, Brady.”

  “Exactly. I thought you at least still took poker seriously.”

  He could happily punch Brady for that crack, but Nana disapproved of them destroying her furniture. At the same time, a knock-down-drag-out with his brothers might just make him feel better. He certainly wanted to hit something, but they’d wake the house if he did.

  “It’s just a game.”

  “Which I just won, by the way,” Ethan reminded him, raking in the pot with glee.

  Finn lifted his beer in a toast. “Good for you.”

  Ethan pushed back from the table and crossed his arms. “Okay, what the hell is wrong with you? Your mood is just … foul.”

  “Well, we can’t all be a constant ray of sunshine like you.”

  Brady nearly spat his drink. When he recovered, he grabbed Finn’s beer and moved it to the other side of the table. “I think it might be time to cut you off. You’ve obviously lost grip with reality.”

  “Hey, they call L.A. La-La Land for a reason. Reality isn’t necessary.”

  Ethan looked at Brady and spoke as if Finn wasn’t even at the table. “He is in bad shape.”

  Finn knew they weren’t referring to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. He was nowhere near done drinking them under the table. While none of them had mentioned their visit that other morning, he knew his brothers hadn’t forgotten the topic entirely. He’d love to know what they reported back to Nana, though, because the lecture he’d expected had never come.

  It was rather disturbing. Disturbing enough for him to broach the subject. “Am I a bastard?”

  Brady snorted. “Well, I can’t say with certainty, because I wasn’t at your conception—thank God—but you do look a lot like the rest of us. So, I’ll go with no.”

  “I should really know better than to try to converse with you two.”

  Ethan’s face rearranged itself into honest curiosity. “Tell us what’s on your mind, then, little brother. We’re all ears.”

  He debated for a moment, then decided that if he could go all in on nothing once tonight, he might as well do it again. “Cait.”

  Ethan reached for his wallet and handed Brady a bill.

  So much for thinking his brothers could be serious about this. “Good God, what is it with y’all and this need to bet on my life?”

  “It keeps us from getting too invested in the idea you might actually get your life straightened out.”

  “I have fame, fortune, success … What more do you want from me?”

  Ethan looked at Brady, who merely shrugged. “At the risk of sounding maudlin, which I will blame on too much alcohol, we just want you to be happy.”

  “I am, damn it.” He slammed his hand on the table, causing poker chips to jump.

  “We can tell.”

  “Bite me.” Finn went to the fridge behind the bar for another beer.

  Brady turned in his chair to face him. “So if you’re so happy what’s all this about?”

  Finn sorted through several answers, and when none of them seemed right, shrugged instead.

  “Did you see that?” Brady nudged Ethan. “Aspyn was right.”

  Ethan nodded. “I thought it was just an annoying habit, but I’m going to go with her on this one.”

  He was going to regret asking, but … “What?”

  “Your answer to everything is a shrug,” Brady said. “You really don’t seem to care. No wonder Caitlyn keeps leaving you. No matter what happens, you shrug it off.”

  “Because there’s very little in life that’s truly life or death. Everything else will sort itself out in time.”

  “And it makes you look like you really don’t give a damn.”

  What had Cait said? People believe what they see. Now his brothers were piling on, too. “I care when it’s worth caring about.”

  Ethan nudged Brady. “I like Caitlyn—”

  “You don’t even know Cait,” Finn interrupted.

  “I know she’s got guts. Most people wouldn’t have the courage to try to redeem themselves and make a comeback. They’d just slink away into obscurity.”

  Brady nodded. “True. That does show guts.”

  “And she probably would have done fine if I’d left her alone.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Brady asked.

  Finn started to shrug, but caught himself. “Because I wanted her.” He came back to the table and sat.

  Ethan leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “I think she’s proved she wants you, too.”

  “She says I’m a drug.”

  Brady’s eyebrows pulled together. “That’s new.”

  Ethan was nodding, though, as if he agreed with Cait. “I’d believe that. The allure of drugs is the high. It feels good. And you two certainly seem to have a hard time staying away from each other.”

  “Then I just don’t understand her. Life is short. Do what feels good.”

  “Sure,” Brady added. “But how many people do you know that went into rehab?”

  “A few. But Cait isn’t an addict.”

  Ethan rubbed his eyes. “I’ve had too much to drink to play with metaphors, so let me explain this to you in small words. If she says you’re a drug, it means that as much as she wants you, she doesn’t think you’re good for her.”

  Finn fiddled with his poker chips. “She’s made that much very clear. And look—it seems she’s right. Her life seems to spin into hell every time she gets near me.”

  “Then you have to show her that you are good for her. That you can be good for each other.”

  “And how exactly do I do that?”

  “By offering her what she needs.”

  “I don’t know what the hell she needs. I don’t think she does, either. One minute she’s planning her great redemption story—which doesn’t star me—and the next she’s deciding she’d rather play the tragic heroine. Also without me, I might add.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Once again, Cait was the great paradox of his existence. There were scores of people lined up to tell him what he could do for them, what they needed from him. But not Cait. She didn’t want or need anything he had to offer. “Lord, if anyone is a drug it’s her. She’s messed with my brain enough.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Then suck it up and quit acting like an idiot.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Brady flipped a poker chip at him. “Ethan’s right. And he knows from experie
nce. So do I, actually. You’re certainly carrying on a family tradition.”

  Ethan laughed. “It must be in the DNA. You know, we do suck at psychology. We were doing an intervention for the wrong thing.”

  “I don’t have a clue what the two of you are talking about.”

  “The great Marshall failing is arrogance,” Brady explained. “Taken to the extreme, you’ll end up like our father. It makes for good politicians, but lousy people. We were trying to save you from that.”

  “We were totally barking up the wrong tree.” Ethan shook his head sadly.

  “Well, I’m glad you admit it.” The conversation had taken a wrong turn, and Finn was having a hard time following along. “I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

  Ethan leaned forward. “Do you want Caitlyn?”

  “Yes.”

  Brady held up a hand. “The more important question is do you love Caitlyn?”

  Finn hesitated. How many women had told him he was incapable of that emotion? It certainly wasn’t one he was familiar with. He certainly felt something for Cait, but was it love?

  Ethan saved him from answering. “For the purpose of going forward—and because I really don’t want to be at this all night—the judges will accept that as a yes.”

  “And …?”

  Brady went to the bar and got two more beers. He returned to the table and handed one to Ethan. “Then pay attention, little brother, ‘cause your big brothers are about to teach you something very important.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Ethan grinned. “How to grovel.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FINN had never been so happy to hand something over to the post-production team. And he didn’t realize how much Folly had been weighing on him until he did so. He wanted to be in the editing room, but he was honest enough to admit that editing was not his forte, and he’d be more in the way than anything else. Both Farrell and the editor, Paul, shared his vision for Folly and he had confidence in their work.

  But he’d check in in a couple of weeks, regardless. Just to be sure.

  He sat on his balcony, watching the waves lap the Malibu shore. Once back in the controlled setting of a studio, the last weeks of filming had gone quickly and without catastrophe. Without Cait around, his stress level had decreased substantially, mainly because Naomi had chilled out as well. As expected, the hoopla had died down as soon as Cait left for New York. Almost immediately, there’d been something else to take its place, and while Finn knew it wasn’t forgotten, it was no longer hot news.