Fame

by Jillian Dodd

  He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close. “I’d be a fool not to be interested. Tell me about the coat.”

  “The coat?” I ask.

  “Yeah, why the fur and not a trench coat? It’s hot out.”

  “It’s soft?” I say, tentatively.

  “And—?”

  “Fine, it’s possible that I hate this coat. But it’s so incredibly beautiful. And I wanted to look nice for you tonight.”

  “Vanessa, I love that you wanted to impress me, but I’m already impressed. I think you’re beautiful. Why do you hate the coat?”

  “My ex bought it for me after he cheated on me.”

  “He was trying to win you back?”

  “Yes.”

  He gives me a sweet kiss and touches the fur. “It’s my new mission to make this your favorite thing.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “We’re not done with the fur,” he says in a way that sounds almost like a threat to both my fur and my ex.

  He leads me to the kitchen, where he grabs a tray of fruit, cheese, and nuts out of the fridge and opens the champagne.

  “Are you expecting company?”

  He laughs. “No, it’s a welcome gift. Keatyn thinks of everything.”

  “Actually, Tyler thinks of everything.”

  “Well, I’ll be sure to thank him then.” He hands me a flute and says, “To luxury spending.”

  “And to fur,” I say with a laugh and take a sip. The bubbles go straight to my nose and cause me to sneeze.

  “Bless you,” he says.

  “Thanks.”

  He picks a grape off the tray and feeds it to me.

  I’m shocked by how natural it feels. How it doesn’t feel like I’m submitting, but rather he’s taking care of me.

  And for a woman who’s trying hard to hold everything together, it’s really, really nice.

  “So, um,” he says, “we’ve done it twice now without a condom. I keep meaning to ask, and I know it’s not very responsible of me, but . . .”

  “I can’t get pregnant,” I admit.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, after I lost my baby—”

  “Wait, what? When did that happen?”

  “A few years ago. I was pregnant and miscarried at about four months.”

  He moves quickly around the island and wraps me in his arms. “That must have been horrible for you.”

  “It was. And I don’t know what all went wrong, but they told me I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant again.”

  “I’m sorry. Your husband must have been crushed.”

  “Uh, not exactly.”

  “Didn’t he want children?”

  I take a gulp of champagne. Why the hell am I talking about this? I don’t talk about it to anyone.

  Not even Keatyn knows the details of how it all went down.

  “I, um, it’s not something I want to discuss.”

  He nods, while studying my eyes. “I understand. But, Vanessa, just so you know, you can tell me anything.”

  “Does that go for you too?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why haven’t you worked for the last two years?”

  “My wife left.” He pauses for a moment, seeming to reconsider his words. “Actually, that’s not exactly right. My wife, um, she died.”

  My eyes get huge and I feel horrible for prying, especially when I see tears shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry. That must have been horrible for you.”

  “It was. That’s why I stopped last night. It’s not because I didn’t want you. I just, well, you’re the first woman since . . .” His voice trails off.

  And I’m thinking no fucking way. He hasn’t been with anyone since she died? Two years ago? Oh, god, no. Please tell me he went out and got laid like I did after Bam. I just wanted to be fucked.

  But I don’t want that with Dawson, because I want . . . I want . . . Ohmigawd. I want him to love me. I don’t want to be the girl he fucks to get over his dead wife.

  “Since, uh, when?” Please say since you’ve been in California.

  “Since she died.”

  Shit. I’m so fucked.

  Four Seasons Hotel - Las Vegas

  RILEY

  “Riley, you’re drunk. I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jennifer says, trying to get away from me.

  I give her my sexy grin and pull her back onto my lap. “You were grinding on me all night and gave me a lap dance in the club. Got me hot.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just dancing.”

  “On my dick.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I was a little drunk and dancing in a totally fun but inappropriate way.”

  I slide my hands up her shirt. “I like inappropriate.”

  She pushes my hands down. “Riley, you’re drunk.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t want to have sex with you when you’re drunk. We’re going to be working together. I don’t want to mess up our business relationship.”

  “Fine, you’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me. I have a contract.”

  “Dallas always gives me a way out.”

  She frowns, gets up, and walks toward the huge bank of windows overlooking the strip.

  I follow her. My horny thoughts conjuring up visions of fucking her from behind while we both look out at the lights. That would be a beautiful shot in a movie, actually.

  I wrap my arms around her, pulling her ass against my hardness. “I was just thinking. . .”

  “Just stop it, Riley,” she cries.

  And it hits me that she’s actually crying.

  This sobers me up.

  “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

  “Yes, you jerk, I’m crying. I like you. And you’re ruining it. If sex is all you want—if you aren’t interested in me, or in being friends—then just get the fuck out of here, call Dallas, and get me fired.”

  I start to feel nauseous.

  “Uh, excuse me,” I say, but I only get as far as the ice bucket before throwing up.

  “Gross,” she says, coming to help me. “I’ll call down for some coffee.”

  I throw up again and then shake my head. “Make it a nice greasy cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke.”

  “That sounds good,” she says, taking the ice bucket away from me and handing me a larger version, one that held the magnum of champagne we drank to pre-party.

  I hear her ordering room service and slide to the floor with the bucket, praying I didn’t just screw everything up.

  Dawson’s beach house - Malibu

  DAWSON

  My heart goes out to Vanessa for not only having a miscarriage, but also for not being able to get pregnant again. I can tell it’s something that hurts her deeply, and I’m pretty sure, based on the little she said, that her husband wasn’t supportive.

  Whether or not I was a supportive husband is a question that has gone through my head a million times over the last two years. Was I a good husband? Is it my fault Whitney’s dead? Did she know I wouldn’t stand by her?

  It’s weird how you can look back on your life and so clearly see all the mistakes you made. If you knew then what you know now, how would your life be different? Or would it be? For example, would I have used the condoms Whitney gave me when we had sex or used my own?

  I was going to tell Vanessa about my daughters tonight. But, after her admission, I’m thinking now’s not the right time.

  Plus, she’s wearing nothing but my shirt.

  I glance at the fur coat she showed up in. I need to come up with a few more ways to make her love that coat. To make her think of me every time she sees it. Because for the first time in a very long time, I feel like maybe things are turning around for me. That everything I’ve been through, from Whitney getting pregnant to the aftermath of her death, is over. My brothers were right. It’s time for me to put the past behind me and start living again.

  It’s dark outside and although I’m more than ready t
o fuck her again, I don’t want it to be just sex with us.

  “Do you want me to open another bottle of champagne or would you prefer something else?”

  “You got any good scotch?” she says to me with a grin.

  I grab two lowballs from a cabinet, drop a couple ice cubes in, and pour us each a drink.

  “Would you mind carrying these?” I ask, handing them to her while I grab the fur.

  “Where are we going?”

  I don’t answer, just give her a directional nod.

  “Is that the way to the bedroom?” she asks.

  “Sorta,” I say, leading her through the master bedroom, bathroom, and then out a side door.

  “Wow,” she says, echoing my own thoughts when I first saw the little Zen courtyard. “This is so pretty. It must be for meditating and doing yoga.”

  “And relaxing,” I say, turning her toward the round daybed tucked into the corner.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that,” she says, taking in the daybed which looks like something you would find at an exotic resort. It’s layered with red cushions and pillows and has a pointed wicker top. There are even curtains for privacy.

  I set our drinks on a wicker cocktail table next to it, lie down, and snuggle her into my chest, using the fur as a blanket.

  “I feel like a genie in a bottle,” she says, looking around and laughing.

  “Does that mean I get to rub you and make three wishes?” I ask.

  She quickly stops laughing, her breath seemingly taken away by my question. “What would you wish for?” she whispers.

  “Love,” I say softly.

  “I want love too. Big love. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “Like Keatyn and Aiden?”

  “Yes. The kind of love that can’t be torn apart. The kind of love that heals and inspires. The kind of love that lasts forever. What else would you wish for?”

  “Happiness and forgiveness.”

  “What do you need to be forgiven for?”

  “I feel responsible for things I really had no control over. I feel like I need to be forgiven. What would you wish for?”

  “I wish I could have children,” she says. “And I’ll second your love and happiness.”

  I rub my hand across her naked stomach three times. “Ask me what I want, genie,” I say.

  She holds my hand in place. “I’m going to grant you three wishes. What would you like?”

  “I want Vanessa to find big love, happiness, and children.”

  “That’s three wishes. Don’t you want to save some for yourself?”

  “Nah,” I say, pressing my lips against hers.

  We kiss while lying naked under her fur coat, for a really long time.

  Friday, October 3rd

  Driving up the California coast

  ARIELA

  I’m cruising up Highway 1 when my cell rings.

  “Hey, Keatyn,” I say. “Hang on.” I carefully pull to the side of the road and put my flashers on. “Sorry, I have the top down and couldn’t hear you.”

  “It’s okay. I was just calling to see if you wanted to fly up to Sonoma with me today.”

  “Oh, thanks for asking, but I decided to drive up the coast. I’ve never been farther north than Malibu. Vanessa said the drive is breathtaking. She even lent me one of her convertibles.”

  “How fun! I’m jealous. It is so beautiful. You’ll love it. And there’s something so freeing about hopping in a convertible and blaring your music.”

  “That’s exactly my plan. I didn’t even make reservations anywhere for tonight. I’m just going to stop wherever I feel like it.”

  “What time should I expect you on Saturday?”

  “Is around noon okay?”

  “Yes, that’d be perfect. Um, have you talked to Maggie yet?”

  I sigh. “No, I’ll be honest. I’m kind of chicken.”

  “Don’t be. Maggie definitely speaks her mind, but she was really excited to hear you’re coming. I do think you owe her a call though.”

  “You’re right. I’ll do it as soon as I hang up.”

  “What about your parents? Have you talked to them? Or your husband?”

  “Vanessa gave me the name of a private investigator, who had Collin followed yesterday. There are pictures of him screwing his secretary. He lied when he said he would stop. Not that it matters. I’m not going back.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  “I haven’t told them. He works for my dad. They won’t understand.”

  “I know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen your parents, and I know you blame them for some of the past but, Ariela, you chose your path. You were eighteen when you left Eastbrooke and were in your twenties when you got married. You may have felt pressure to stay on that path, but you chose it. You can’t blame your parents. I’m sure they thought they were doing what was best for you.”

  “Wow. Tough love, huh? I expected that from Maggie, not you.”

  Keatyn laughs. “I may be quoting Maggie. I’m also a little worried.”

  “About what?”

  “Riley is my best friend. All I want is for him to be happy. And I’ll love whoever he chooses as long as she makes him happy.”

  “I saw him leave with Jennifer Edwards and saw the article about them. Are they dating?”

  “Yes. I know you came here on a whim, Ariela. I get it. But until you are sure about what you want, don’t mess with his life.”

  “I understand. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I press end on my phone and just stare at it, Keatyn’s words echoing in my head. She’s right. I did come here on a whim. But at the same time, I’ve wanted to do it for so long.

  Before I chicken out, I call my father. I was going to call Mom, give her my typical update. I’m fine. I just need a break. It’s time I take responsibility for my life.

  After getting through his assistant, my father answers with, “When are you coming back home?”

  “I’m not. I’ve hired an attorney and am filing for a divorce.”

  “You’re what? Why?”

  “Our marriage falling apart isn’t all Collin’s fault, Dad. I never loved him the way I should have.”

  “Is that why you’re really in California? Are you looking up that boy from high school?”

  “The boy who you said would never amount to anything?”

  “Yeah, what was his name?”

  “It’s Riley Johnson. And you were wrong, Dad. Riley is the CEO of a movie production company. A multi-billion dollar company. He’s more successful than Collin, and even you.”

  “So, you want to trade up?”

  “No, I’m following my heart. I wasn’t strong enough to do it when I was eighteen, but I’m strong enough now.”

  “Collin will be devastated.”

  “Oh, I think he will be fine, since he’s sleeping with his secretary. But you probably already knew that.”

  “Ariela, you have a good life here.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m miserable. And even if Riley doesn’t give me another chance, I’m staying in California. This was my dream too, not just his.”

  “You’re a little young for a midlife crisis, darling. Your mother went through something like this in our marriage. She started seeing Dr. Vance. Maybe we should make you an appointment.”

  “Let me guess, that was about the time she found out you weren’t faithful, and she decided she liked her life enough to settle for part of you? Or she was fucking Dr. Vance to get back at you?”

  “Ariela! How dare you?”

  “Mom told me about your arrangement. I think it sucks, and I don’t respect it. Call me a fool, but I believe in true love. And I’m going to find it. Collin will be getting the divorce papers next week. Goodbye, Dad.”

  I’m shaking and crying when I hang up. I look over at the ocean. I didn’t realize when I pulled over that there’s a beach right here. I get out of the car, grab a mat out of the trunk, and go sit in the sand.r />
  As I sit down, I decide to call the one person who always understood what my parents were like, my best friend from high school, Maggie.

  “Maggie?” I say when she answers.

  “Ariela?” she asks. “Are you crying?”

  I say yes and tell her everything that happened after high school. What my dad had said. How he told me going to California would be the biggest mistake of my life. How I got back together with Collin, the boy I had dated from home. How I married him. How unhappy I’ve been. What made me decide to come to California. What’s happened with Riley. What my dad just said. And, finally, how I’ve missed her.

  I figured she would chew me out, but she says, “I missed you too. I heard you’re coming up here.”

  “I am.”

  “It’ll be okay, Ariela.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I don’t know if Riley will forgive you, and I don’t know if you will end up together. But that really isn’t the point. You have to be happy with yourself, first and foremost.”

  “You’re right, as usual. I thought you were going to chew me out.”

  “Oh, I still might,” she says. “But I can’t do it when you’ve been crying.”

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

  Trinity movie set - Studio City

  KEATYN

  Knox kisses my neck and then my lips.

  We’re both shirtless. Nude pasties cover my nipples and we’re both wearing underwear for this scene since a sheet is strategically covering Knox’s ass. My legs are both outside the sheet, one bent on the bed, the other wrapped around him.

  “Slowly arch your back into him,” the director whispers. “This is the night you’re going to conceive your love child. Good. Now, Knox, gently wrap your arm around her buttocks and pull her even closer. Good. Can we get that?” he says to the camera man. “Close in right there, their chests coming together.”

  “Coming together,” Knox whispers in my ear.

  I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. It bursts out of me.

  “Cut!” the director yells. “Come on, guys. Stop screwing around.”