I glanced out toward the crowd, all of them peering eagerly toward us to see what the holdup was. There was nothing I’d rather do than shut the door and tell Garrett to keep driving.
But I remembered that nasty look on Max del Conte’s face at the idea of ruining Will’s future. Like he almost looked forward to that as much as he wanted the money Will’s star power could undoubtedly earn. No. I wasn’t going to let him get the satisfaction.
“What can I do?” I asked hurriedly, rubbing my hands up Will’s arms, face, neck—anything I could possibly think of to mitigate this panic.
My touch seemed to work. Will fixated on my fingers as they encircled his wrists; his breathing regulated a bit when I pressed his face into my neck.
“What helps?” I asked again as I wove my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.
“You do,” he whispered. “Oh, God. You do, Lil.”
After another minute or two, long past the time the cars behind us had started honking their horns, Will sat up and straightened his shoulders.
“I’m okay,” he said with a long exhale. “I can do this.” His shoulders were still shaking slightly and his eyes were wide, but he nodded. “Let’s go.”
I stepped out of the car, and he followed me
“Lil,” he called as the roar from the crowd went up.
I turned around to find him staring right at me, like the crowd and the cameras and the lights and the music didn’t exist. “What is it?” I called back, straining my voice to be heard.
Will gulped and reached for my hand. “Don’t let go.”
20
“Salmon puff?”
I turned around to find a waiter holding up a tray of hors d'oeuvres with toothpicks. Eagerly, I grabbed one, popped it in my mouth, and snatched another. After the red carpet and sitting through the two-and-a-half-hour movie, I was famished.
Walking past the wall of fans and paparazzi flashes had been the worst part. My vision still hadn’t returned a hundred percent, and their screams rang in my ears for hours. Somehow Will had forced himself to smile and wave, following Gail’s guidance to step and repeat again and again until she had deemed the photographers had enough shots. I was pretty sure I would come out looking like a deer caught in headlights, but Will had plastered that same smile I recognized from old tabloid photos. The rest of him, however, shivered and shook, showing all the signs of someone trying desperately to ward off a panic attack. My hand was squeezed so hard it lost all feeling until we got inside.
Once we made it past the press, Will relaxed considerably. Most of the reporters asked surprisingly benign questions (Gail told us later they were all instructed not to ask about Will’s disappearance or his relationship with me). Inside the theater, he remained standoffish whenever other actors approached, though he tended to be nicer to members of the crew or the writers. I, for one, was somewhat starstruck. I had never seen so many famous people in one place, and most of them had been so eager to see Will that they barely noticed me. They were friendly, welcoming back a prodigal son to the industry, and Will smiled, even traded a few jokes here and there. But never, even once, did he let go of my hand.
Will grumbled the entire way to the after-party at a hotel’s rooftop lounge a few blocks down from the theater, though I guessed that was partly he was hungry after close to two months of nothing but fish and broccoli, not to mention nothing for dinner that night. It was close to eleven o’clock by the time we got to the lounge.
“Thirty minutes,” Gail assured us as she ushered us into the party. “Get your picture taken with a few people—mainly Amelia. I’ll let you guys know when you can go.” She looked sympathetically at Will as he ducked away to find a bathroom. After watching him stumble down the red carpet for forty-five minutes, Gail had a new understanding of his hatred for the industry. So did I.
“Thanks,” I said to the waiter as I took a third bite off the tray. “I needed those.”
“You know those are about eighty calories a bite and positively dripping with gluten.”
I turned around to find Amelia standing next to me, looking as picture-perfect as ever. We’d seen her briefly at the screening. She had been too busy with her own promotional duties to say more than a quick hello to Will, though I noticed her watching him through half the show from down our row.
She looked me up and down. “Then again, you have the luxury of not watching your weight, don’t you?”
I swallowed the salmon puff and dabbed at my mouth. Then I shrugged. “Worth it. Congratulations on the film. It was…entertaining.”
That was really the best I could say. It was two and a half hours of watching Amelia play an ingénue pop star—sort of a take on A Star Is Born, but with a much happier ending. It might have been fun, if I hadn’t already disliked her so much. On top of that, her lip-syncing had been horrendous, and whoever wrote the music for the film had been listening to way too many boy bands.
Amelia took a long drink of what looked and smelled like vodka. “I appreciate that, love. Now, what happened to our man? Did he run off and leave you here?”
I gave a thin smile. Our man, huh? I would not let this bitch know how much she and her impossibly perky tits got under my skin. I would not. I would not.
“He ran to the restroom, but he needed to make the rounds with some of the producers. Getting some pictures in,” I said. “He doesn’t want to stay long. I’m sure you know that parties aren’t really his thing.”
“Parties? Not Will’s ‘thing’?” Amelia burst into a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. “That’s darling, really.”
I sipped my water. It was awkward enough being here when a lot of people—most of them female—so clearly didn’t want me around. On top of that, being the only one sober made it close to unbearable.
“So, tell me again, how did you two meet?”
I blinked. “I thought he told you that story. I crashed a bike in front of his house, and then got tangled in some lilies in front of his dock.”
“Oh, right, right,” Amelia said, nodding. “I remember now. How very quaint. And how completely plausible.”
I looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”
Amelia’s pink lips were pouted and her eyes a little unfocused from the vodka, but none of that could hide her contempt for me.
“Do you really think that anyone believes you just ‘happened’ to break down outside his house?” She snorted loudly. “Darling, please. That’s the oldest trick in the book. You might as well have pretended to be his long-lost childhood friend.” Her sharp blue eyes blazed a trail of tiny cuts over me. “He’ll get his fill of you. And when he does, he’ll come right back to where he belongs.” She pointed a manicured finger up and down over me. “You see, Will and I have known each other since we were children. I was fourteen when we met. We grew up in this town together. We were royalty together. At some point in the near future, he’ll tire of slumming with peasantry, and when he does, he’ll return to his queen. I’ll make sure of it.”
She giggled to herself, as if the thought of ruining our relationship genuinely amused her. I, for one, was too shocked to reply. Was this chick for real?
“Amelia!” a voice called through the crowd, and immediately, Amelia waved her hand in response.
“Coming!” she called back and then turned to me. “Enjoy the party, darling,” she said with a wink. “I know I will.”
And before I could summon any kind of reply, she slithered through the crowd, already waving at her next amusement.
“Don’t mind her. No one in this town pays attention to a thing she says.”
I turned to the friendly voice beside me, still feeling stunned by the exchange. The voice belonged to a short, squat man with a round, friendly face and a head full of bushy gray hair. He pushed a pair of smudged glasses up his nose and grinned at me. His enthusiasm and kindness was so utterly out of place in this room full of splashy, shiny people, I couldn’t help but smile back.
“S
he, you know, has a little…problem.” He lifted his pinky finger to his nose, miming the actions of a coke fiend.
I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
The man chuckled and nodded. “But you didn’t hear it from me, of course. And no one will care as long as she’s putting out bankable garbage like this every six months.”
“You didn’t like the film?”
The man shrugged. “What did you think?”
I twisted my mouth around, but decided to be honest. “I thought it had its moments.”
“Come on, now, put it out there. You’re the target demographic for a movie like this, aren’t you? Ms. Craig is trying to grab that coveted eighteen to thirty, and you can’t be, what, more than twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six,” I murmured, but the man barreled on enthusiastically.
“Well, then, there you have it. So be honest, kid. What are your notes?”
“Well, if you have to know, I thought the music needed a little work,” I sputtered, finally giving under pressure.
The man rocked back on his heels. “Is that so? Do tell.”
“Well, I mean I’m no expert, but I thought the songs were a little formulaic and mostly unremarkable, especially for a movie like this with some of the biggest stars in the world. You’d think the studio could spring for something better than your average pop crap.” The words contained more vitriol than I really intended, or even felt. Apparently I was more bothered by the interaction with Amelia than I thought. “Er, sorry,” I said. “That was a little much.”
The man only laughed. “No problem, sweetheart. I asked. And can I ask whose opinion is tickling my funny bone at the moment?”
I smiled. I didn’t know this man, but I liked him very much. “Maggie,” I said. “Maggie Sharp.” I held out a hand. “And you are?”
“Rob Reinquist,” he said, returning the handshake. “I actually wrote the soundtrack.”
My jaw practically hit the floor. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Shit, I—Jesus, how rude am I? Please, please forgive me. I’m incredibly nervous being here, and maybe even a little jealous of you, and—”
Rob chuckled and patted me on the back. “Hey, hey, relax. I know it’s shit, but it’s a paycheck. That soundtrack is what happens when the studio asks if I can write music that sounds like the latest Top Forty crap on the radio.” He shrugged. “It’s formulaic and dull, but it paid for my kids’ college tuitions, you know?”
I nodded, taking a sip of water and wishing to God that I had even the slightest taste for vodka. For the first time, I understood why people would try to escape into a vat of alcohol. Mortification.
But Rob’s warm smile—and the fact that in his faded pants and slightly stained shirt he was one of the most relatable-looking people here—put me at ease.
“Well, they weren’t all bad,” I said. “The third number was pretty catchy. I liked the changes between the second verse and the bridge.”
Rob looked at me with surprise. “Oh? Do we have another composer in the house tonight?”
I shrugged. “I was out in New York for a while, but I could never get anything off the ground.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Are you a composer or a performer? Because they are different beasts, you know.”
I blinked. “Well…” I didn’t know how to answer that. I knew what he meant. It was a spectrum, of course, but most artists fell on one side of the continuum or the other. People who either lived to perform or lived to write.
I didn’t perform anymore. And to be honest, I didn’t miss it. At all. It was the music I loved, the music that drove me. I just wanted it out there, no matter what.
“Composer,” I said. “Performing was only ever a means to an end. And to be honest, I haven’t done it in a very, very long time.”
Rob nodded, looking satisfied with the answer.
“Well, hey,” he said as he pulled something out of his back pocket. “I’ve got to go kiss some corporate asses a little bit tonight before I get back to the wife and kids. But if you ever have more solid notes for my stuff, I’d be happy to hear them.” He handed me a business card with a wink. “It’s good to have at least some friends in this town.”
“Oh…thank you…” I took the card and examined it for a moment, stunned by his kindness and openness. I looked up to tell him, but he was already gone.
The party continued in full swing around me, with the drunken laughter and dancing growing louder by the second. I was content to melt back into the wall, study Rob Reinquist’s business card, and ponder exactly what I was supposed to do with it.
A few minutes later, Will appeared at my side, looking tired and bedraggled. He’d lost his suit jacket at some point, and his shirt looked like it had been pulled in multiple directions for the last thirty minutes. His hair was sticking up on one side, and part of his shirt was un-tucked.
“God,” he said as he wrapped a long arm around my shoulders. “I need a drink.”
I looked up sharply. “What?”
He grinned. “I’m joking, Lil. I actually had a couple of shots with some Disney execs, but I’m done now, I promise.”
He did sound a little looser. And while I was happy he’d lost that tense, animal-caught-in-a-trap look, I didn’t love that it had clearly come from the drinks.
He’s not your mother, Maggie. I repeated the phrase in my head several times.
“Relax,” Will murmured into my ear. “That’s all I’m having. No one’s going off the deep end tonight.”
“Were you planning to in the future?” The question was sharper than I intended.
Will straightened and looked me straight in the eye. “No.”
My shoulders dropped in relief. “Okay.”
“Hey, I saw you talking to Rob Reinquist. That guy is such a legend.”
I took a long sip of my water and glanced back at the little man, now making his way toward the buffet. “Really?”
Will blinked down at me. “He did the music for The Dwelling, and I swear, he completely made that movie. Corbyn loves him. He’s won three Oscars for his scores. Didn’t you know that?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never really followed film composers.” Maybe I should have. “He gave me his card.”
Will grinned and kissed me on the head. “There aren’t very many people in this town I’d trust, babe, but Rob is definitely one of them. You should call.”
I looked down at the card in my hand. “Maybe I will.”
Before I could ponder it some more, the card was plucked out of my hand and tucked into my purse.
“Hey!” I protested, but the playful look on Will’s face erased my annoyance.
“Come on, Lily pad, it’s a party,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Stop brooding, all right? For the first time all night, I don’t want to strangle myself. I just want to dance with the prettiest girl in the room.”
I rolled my eyes while he tugged on my arm. “Please. There are about a hundred other girls here with flatter abs and tighter asses than me.” Amelia’s perfectly symmetrical face flashed to mind, and I frowned.
Will yanked me up against him with a growl. “What did I say?” he demanded. “No talking shit about yourself, Lil. You’re worth a million of these plastic-looking bitches. Do you understand?”
His hand was steel around my waist, and the rest of the party seemed to fade away. When was the last time Will and I had gotten quality time together that wasn’t in his trailer, where we were interrupted every five minutes? For the last few weeks, he’d been pulling sixteen- to eighteen-hour days on set. Sometimes I missed him more than when I was hundreds of miles away.
I popped up onto my tiptoes and touched my nose to his. “Yes, sir,” I teased lightly. “Understood.”
It was meant as a joke, but as soon as the word “sir” came out of my mouth, Will’s face took on a completely different demeanor. One that was pure smolder.
He grabbed my hand roughly and squeezed. “Come with me.”
There wasn’t any ti
me to respond as I was dragged through the tight crowd, past the people smashed into the VIP section. Will paused at the top of the stairs, looking right and left to see if anyone was watching us. And then he darted into an unmanned coatroom, practically pulling my arm out of its socket in the process.
“Will!” I protested as he led us into the back of the closet.
“Shut up, Lil,” he said. He flipped me back against the wall, and then he was pressed against me, all six feet, three inches of him, dressed in Tom Ford’s finest with hands, legs, torso, and mouth begging for access.
“What are you doing?” I gasped as his lips found my neck and began to suck.
Will stood up. “What did you expect?” he demanded. “You’ve been parading around me all damn night with your ass looking grabbable as fuck and your nipples basically staring me in the face.”
My mouth dropped, and I looked down at the dress. “What?”
A finger slid under my chin. “I said they were staring at me, Lil,” Will said with a crooked smile that made my heart thump. He dragged his gaze down, then up with such slow intention that goose bumps broke out all over my body. The smile widened. “Although when you’re a little cold, I’m pretty sure everyone in the room knows it, baby.”
I smacked him on the shoulder with my purse, but he caught my wrist and slammed it high above my head on the wall, effectively trapping me there.
“You’re a bit of a caveman, you know that, Baker?” I said, though I made absolutely no move to fight him.
That wicked smile only spread fully, bright and daring in the dark of the closet. His other hand slid up my thigh, seeking skin under the thin silk of my skirt. When he found it, the hand continued up and behind to take a handful of flesh and pulled me taut against his solid and apparently very willing body.
“Fuckin’ barbaric,” he agreed as his fingers sought out my sex. He quirked an eyebrow as he discovered my secret. “Looks like I’m not the only one going back to nature, though, am I?” He closed his eyes as his fingers found pay dirt. “Jesus Christ, Lil, you’re completely bare.”
I blushed. “Robin, um, said most women don’t include underwear when they wear dresses like this. And well, I have, um, dark hair there, so…it needed to go.”
Indiscreet (The Discreet Duet Book 2) Page 21