Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection Book 2)

by Leigh James

  "What do you mean? I thought this would be your crowning moment in social media."

  I shook my head. "No, sir." Taking a deep breath, I prepared for the worst. "A reporter told us about an hour ago that she's found out about our past." I steeled myself for his reaction, but all I heard was silence. "Pierce? Are you still there?"

  "I'm here," he said. "I was just inwardly cursing."

  "Well, Kyle and I are going to handle it. I promise."

  "How the fuck do you plan on 'handling' it? It's a disaster is what it is. Put on a hazmat suit. That's about as much as you can do before a shit storm." He hung up on me.

  I didn't really feel any better after those baby steps. I still had to call my mother though. I looked at myself in the mirror. Big girl panties, Lowell. Come on. I groaned and hit her number.

  "Well, well, well," she said before the phone even had a chance to ring. "I knew you would ruin everything. You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady." She took a deep breath, winding up. "You're engaged? To your stepbrother? Who's been disinherited? Would it really be so difficult for you to just date a hot actor with a house in the Hills? Like a normal person?"

  "You can't help who you fall in love with, Mom."

  "Oh, cut the crap. Of course you can. Do you think it was fate I fell in love with four millionaires after your father left me penniless and with a baby? Do you think my heart told me to do that? No, young lady. Those were decisions based on rational thought. I needed someone to take care of us, so I found someone to take care of us. Several someones. And my heart didn't have any say in the matter. Have you met Pierce Richards? The man is ugly. He's a hairy beast. The man has more hair on his chest than he ever had on his head. He even has hair on his ass, Lowell. Like fur. But I married him anyway. Because it was the right thing to do for our future. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

  "Not really," I answered weakly. "Which is pretty normal."

  Caroline sighed. "It's time to grow up, young lady. Part of what you find out when you're an adult is that fairytales don't happen to those of us who live in the real world. You don't love Kyle. You just want him to put his dick inside you because he's a bad boy and because it's taboo. I know you. This is a phase. You'll grow out of it as soon as you two stop having sex all the time, then you'll realize what this is—lust. And maybe a late-stage temper tantrum."

  "Please don't ever talk about Kyle's dick again." My voice was flat. "This is not about sex, Mother. I know you can't understand what being in love means. You don't love anybody except for yourself."

  "That's not true," she said, and I almost felt her seething through the phone. "I love you. I loved your father—before he knocked me up and took off. I just don't let my emotions rule me. That's called being practical. That's called being a grown-up."

  I paused for a second. "I'm sorry you're disappointed. I'm sorry I'm disappointing you."

  "Then don't disappoint me, dear," she snapped. "You're the only one who never has. Don't start now."

  I shook my head, tears welling up. "I don't want to be like you." The tears ran down my face. "I don't want to end up like you."

  "Like what?" She snorted. "Thin, rich, and fashionable? There are far worse things, let me tell you."

  "I don't want to be bitter. A bitter cougar. Aren't you lonely, Mom? Aren't you tired? Don't you want to be with someone who cares about you?"

  She groaned. "Before you went and messed things up, I thought that Pierce was interested in me again."

  But you don't love him. You just want to go shopping again. And plan dinners at all the right places. That's all you want. You don't care about anybody.

  Not even me.

  Not even me.

  "Good luck with that, Mother." I willed my tears away. "And you might want to pour yourself a drink before you watch the Entertainment channel this week. Make it a stiff one."

  "What on earth does that mean?" she shrieked. "I'm coming out there to put a stop to this. You're the one who needs something stiff! A stiff dose of reality! You've lost it."

  But I knew, I just knew, I'd only just found it. "Speaking of stiff, Kyle does have a nice dick. And I do enjoy it. And he is a bad boy." I heard her inhale sharply, and I almost relished making her upset. "But do you know the best thing about him? Do you?" I realized I was yelling at her and my whole body was shaking. "It's that he loves me, Mom. And I can trust him."

  "I can't believe my own daughter is so naive that she's—"

  "I feel sorry for you," I interrupted. "Because you will never, ever know what love like that feels like. But I hope your new barre class is great. And your new ten-thousand-dollar bucket bag. Good luck with keeping your face up. It's turning into a regular full-time job, whether you want one or not."

  "I cannot believe this is you, Lowell. You're going to pay for this. I am going to make you pay," she screeched.

  But it was as if someone had dropped a house on her and she'd lost all her power over me. Suddenly, I didn't care if she went on screeching till her next facelift. I just shook my head. "I've already paid, Mother. So I guess this is good-bye."

  I hung up, looking in my own eyes in the mirror for signs of despair. None came.

  As if it were a new wrinkle, I took that as a visible sign of growing up.

  * * *

  The interview was booked for first thing in the morning. I had no idea what Katie would do between now and then, but I figured it couldn't be good. It was time to come clean. I invited Tori, Shirley, and Gigi over, and I made them pack their bags to stay the night. We needed to close ranks. After they arrived, they all fussed and cooed over Kyle, as if he were the conquering hero of my Hollywood image empire, which I suppose he was.

  With a pit fully formed in my stomach, I called Lucas. "I've got good news, and I've got bad news."

  "I always like to hear my good news first," he said. "Go."

  "I'm engaged. Yay."

  "I already saw that. That's fine news. Much better than the fight you two had up in Boston. Nicely done." He waited for a minute while I paced. "Is that it for the good news?"

  "Um… it depends on how you define good, I guess."

  I could almost hear him looking at his watch. "You know I don't have time for guessing games. Go."

  "Kyle and I are doing an exclusive interview with the Entertainment network first thing in the morning."

  "Did you clear that with your agent? I'm sending our PR person over. She needs to be on set—I already told you that. She'll have to vet the interview."

  "Great," I said tightly. "That's great."

  "So what's the bad news? Go," he commanded.

  "I haven't lost a pound. But I've been working out, and I think I look pretty good."

  "She looks great," Kyle called from the other side of the room. He, Tori, and Gigi were researching wedding venues and honeymoon destinations, in spite of my protests. "If you give her a hard time, I'm coming down to the set tomorrow to break your face."

  I made a shushing motion at Kyle, but I was secretly thrilled by his threat. It was just so mas macho.

  Lucas just ignored him. "Per our contract, you have to be in shape enough for our shoot."

  "Per our contract, I'm in shape enough. I'm in better shape. I'm just not skinny."

  Shirley came over. "Give me that phone."

  I handed it to her and watched her stalk around my kitchen.

  "Real body types are in, Lucas. Your movie sucks, but Lowell's body just might save it. You might get numbers if people think she's representing a new Hollywood standard in beauty." She listened to him and rolled her eyes. "No, I don't think your movie should be a clinical trial. That's not what I'm saying."

  He must have yelled at her because she closed her eyes and braced herself against the phone.

  "Say what you want. I've been in this business a long time, and I know what I'm talking about. You can thank me when it does well." She hung up and handed the phone back to me. "That guy's a real asshole."

  "I tol
d you," I complained.

  "He's a successful asshole, though. You still need this part." She wagged a red, gel-manicured fingertip at me.

  "I know. I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep it, though." I looked nervously at Kyle. Now that I'd sort of dealt with Lucas, it was time to deal with my inner circle. We hadn't told anyone about us yet. Tori was the only person outside of our parents and Katie who knew about our past.

  Shirley rarely, if ever, missed a trick. "What does that mean?"

  I swallowed nervously. "It just means that Kyle and I are going to answer every question at the interview tomorrow."

  "I would expect that. So what's the problem?" Shirley looked at my face, which was clearly guilty, and raised her eyebrows. Then she looked at Tori, who was looking down, picking imaginary lint off her blouse. She turned to Kyle, who was inspecting his nails. Gigi just shrugged at her, mystified, so Shirley turned back to me. "Out with it. Right now, please. I'm not getting any younger."

  "Kyle and I… have known each other for longer than you think." I shot him a quick look and saw the smile spreading on his face. "We… knew each other when we were younger."

  "Go on." Shirley crossed her arms. "'Cause I know that's not the whole story."

  "We grew up together. For part of the time, anyway."

  "My father was married to her mother," Kyle said. He put some crushed ice into a tumbler and poured vodka in it, squeezed in a lime, and handed it to Shirley.

  Shirley frowned and took a large swig of her drink.

  "They were married for four years. Lowell and I were stepsiblings from the time she was ten until she was fourteen and I was seventeen, when they got divorced. That was the last time I saw her. Before this."

  "So…" Shirley looked as if her mind was racing a mile a minute. She didn't look upset anymore, more like she was plotting and scheming—her normal look. "Did you two have feelings for each other back then? Did you ever do anything?"

  "No," we said in unison, horrified.

  "He was really mean back then," I offered.

  "She was sort of a dork," he explained.

  "Okay, okay. We can work with this," Gigi piped up, her blond ponytail swinging excitedly. "You two didn't like each other back then, but you met years later and felt an instant spark." She sounded as if she was giving a movie pitch to an executive.

  "Umm… no," Kyle said, shaking his head. "I mean, I obviously thought she was hot when I saw her again, but we didn't exactly… get along." He looked at me and smiled. "She totally wanted me though. I could tell."

  I snorted. "As if."

  Shirley looked confused. She elbowed Tori, who was still busy picking imaginary lint off her shirt. "I thought you said you set them up and they hit it off instantly."

  Tori pressed her lips together, pretending to think. "Is that what I said? I really don't remember." Shirley towered over her, and Tori winced. "Okay, okay… I might have made some stuff up."

  "Which stuff?" Shirley asked.

  "All the stuff?" Tori asked, even though it wasn't a question.

  "Tori didn't set us up," I interjected. "I'm the one who called Kyle. Actually, I called Kyle's… pimp."

  "Pimp?" Shirley asked, aghast. She drained the rest of her drink and shoved the tumbler back into Kyle's chest. "Does that mean you're a—"

  "Escort," Kyle said smoothly. He poured her another vodka. "I'm an escort. Well, I was anyway, until I accepted a new position with my father's company."

  "You're a hooker." Shirley couldn't hide her shock.

  "I'm retired now." He gently handed her the drink. "You should probably sit down. You look a little pasty."

  Shirley sat down obediently and drank some more. Gigi watched us all with avid interest. Tori twirled her hair, trying to look innocent. I just paced, knowing that I was anything but.

  "You hired a hooker," Shirley said to me, and I nodded. "And he showed up." She jerked her thumb in Kyle's direction. "And you recognized him… because he was your stepbrother."

  I smiled at her in sympathy. "It gets a little convoluted, I know."

  "And did the reporter from XYZ find out all of this?" Shirley asked.

  I shook my head. "She knows that our parents were married. I don't think she knows about the… other part." I looked at Kyle. "I guess we'll find out when she posts something."

  "What about the proposal?" Shirley asked. "Was that just for show?"

  "Yes," I said at the same time Kyle said, "No."

  "We're getting married. For real. That's the important thing," I said soothingly. "I know. It gets a little convoluted."

  * * *

  It was a long night of refreshing: refreshing the XYZ website and refreshing our drinks. Shirley, Gigi, and Tori were sleeping over in order to be there for the interview early the next morning. Pierce hadn't called again, and neither had my mother. I would be relieved about that, but somehow it didn't seem right.

  Finally a picture of us from earlier in the day was posted to XYZ with the headline: Stepbrother Fiancé?

  We clicked on the article—if you could call it that—and my heart sank. It named Kyle as Kyle Richards and speculated that "Kyle Jordan" was a name fabricated to fool the press. It told all about our time living together in northern California and how our parents had been bitterly divorced. To my horror, there was even a school picture of me in glasses and braces, smiling pleadingly at the camera.

  I wondered who had sold them this information. It was mostly banal, with few details, so I wondered if it could have been someone who had worked at the house and recognized both Kyle and me.

  There was no mention about AccommoDating. Not yet.

  But I knew it was only a matter of time.

  Kyle

  Lowell and I went to bed a little after that. I felt thoroughly dejected.

  "It's just a matter of time," I said. "They're going to find out that I was working for Elena and that you hired me. It's all gonna come out."

  Lowell wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close.

  "I'm so sorry," I said.

  "For what?" She put her head against my chest.

  "For being your stepbrother. And your escort. And all this drama." I gently kissed the top of her head.

  "I'm not sorry anymore." She looked at me. "I love you, and we're getting married. End of drama."

  "Lucas is going to fire you. And then your premiere… the producers of Hearts Wide Open aren't exactly gonna be happy either. There's plenty of drama."

  "What if I told you I don't care anymore?" she asked softly.

  "I'd say I don't believe it." I watched her face, which was defiant. "Or that it was a damn shame, because you're a talented actress."

  "There are some things that're more important than that. Like you." She blew out a deep breath. "I'm worried about your father."

  "What about your mother?"

  She shrugged. "My mother… is a pain in the ass."

  "I know that. But she's going to freak."

  "She already did. She screamed at me and threatened to come out here."

  I scrubbed my hands over my face. The idea of seeing Caroline Barton again exhausted me. "Great."

  "I know, right?" Lowell groaned.

  We just snuggled against each other, each of us lost in our thoughts.

  "What do you want to do tomorrow, Lo? During the interview?"

  She looked at me again, her eyes searching my face. Then she smiled. "We're going to do the right thing, babe. Together. From here on out."

  * * *

  We had scheduled the interview for the ass crack of dawn. I groaned when the alarm beeped. I slammed it off then reached for Lowell's nipple and rubbed it slowly with my thumb. I kissed her shoulder, feeling heat shoot through me.

  "Mmmm," she said, then she sat bolt upright. "Kyle. Stop." She swatted me off of her. "We've got work to do."

  I groaned again. "Do you think you're always gonna be so Type-A?"

  She shot me a filthy look. "You can play with my boobs later.
Now shush. You're gonna wake up the others."

  She bustled around the room, and I took small comfort in her promise about her boobs and later.

  Lowell made me wear a suit, claiming that I would look dashing and respectable. I knew what she really meant was that I wouldn't look remotely like a hooker, but that was fine with me. She chose a simple white dress that showed off her curves, which she was apparently through with hiding.

  The network showed up, and they did our hair and makeup.

  "There," the artist told me, putting a final puff of powder on my nose. "You're gorgeous."

  I flashed him a smile. "I kind of get that a lot." I needed to feel some bravado right now to counteract the nervous boulder of dread sitting like deadweight in the center of my stomach.

  "I bet you do, honey. I bet you do," he said as he hustled off.

  I turned around to find Lowell watching me with raised eyebrows.

  "Are you flirting?" she asked.

  I shrugged. "Maybe a little."

  "Aww, you're nervous." She took my hand. "Don't be. We're gonna be all right."

  I laced my fingers through hers. "If you say so."

  She leaned against me. "I do."

  * * *

  Lucas sent over his PR person, Jenny, a grim, razor-thin woman with black nail polish and a cool haircut. Gigi tried to make small talk with her but finally gave up. Jenny smiled at no one and constantly tapped things into her phone. She was sitting in the room with some of the network's crew, and I had a feeling she would get a nasty surprise today.

  Or two.

  Gigi was staying out in the room with us too, doing nothing to earn her commission except flicking her hair and smiling. Tori and Shirley sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and vigilantly checking every website known to man for signs of trouble. They were also researching Caribbean resorts for our honeymoon, but fearing reprisal, they'd made me promise not to tell Lo.