Damage Control

by Jae

  Lauren smiled faintly. “Can I get you anything before we start?”

  Grace started to shake her head, but her mother said, “That’d be nice. If you have it, I’d like to have a freshly pulled espresso with steamed low-fat milk that forms a foam cap, no higher than half an inch.”

  Lauren nodded, but Mrs. Duvenbeck wasn’t through yet.

  “It should be flavored with just a hint of sugar-free vanilla syrup and garnished with a sprinkle of cinnamon—organic, of course.”

  Years of practice enabled Lauren to keep a straight face, even though she was inwardly cringing at the culinary crime Mrs. Duvenbeck was committing on a perfectly good cup of coffee. “Of course,” she said calmly.

  Grace sent her an apologetic gaze, surprising Lauren.

  Since Grace had been a child star, Lauren had expected her to be just as spoiled as her mother. Lauren pressed a button on the office intercom. “Carmen, can you do me a favor and get Mrs. Duvenbeck a coffee?” There was a moment of silence when she repeated the woman’s coffee order, but then Carmen gamely promised to deliver the coffee in a minute.

  Lauren rolled her desk chair toward a small, round table and nodded at the three chrome-and-leather chairs surrounding it. “Why don’t we get started by talking about where you want to take your career and what, exactly, you feel your brand is? Or is there something in particular you wanted to discuss?”

  Mrs. Duvenbeck gingerly settled herself into the chair next to Lauren instead of reserving that seat for her daughter. “Oh yes, there is.” She rummaged through a giant purse that probably held half the product line of Lancome and finally flung a magazine onto the table. “We need you to make this go away!”

  Lauren read the sensational headlines and skimmed the article, managing not to raise an eyebrow at the mention of a gay tryst. She peered over at Grace, who met her gaze with an anxious expression. The actress didn’t set off Lauren’s gaydar, but then again, Tabby Jones hadn’t either, and the photo of Grace with Jill Corrigan looked awfully cozy. “Mrs. Duvenbeck,” Lauren said, deciding to be straightforward. “I’m a publicist, not a magician. I can’t just make this go away, especially not if there’s any truth to it.” She looked back at Grace. “If this is just news you weren’t yet ready to put out, you should realize that the reporters are going to find the truth sooner or later. You might want to bite the bullet and—”

  Grace, George, and Mrs. Duvenbeck all spoke at the same time, with Mrs. Duvenbeck’s enraged voice drowning out the others. “My daughter isn’t gay!”

  There was no way they could have a productive discussion like this. If there was any truth to the gay rumors, Grace certainly wouldn’t confirm them while her mother was in the room. Ignoring Mrs. Duvenbeck, Lauren turned toward Grace. “Maybe the two of us could go over to the conference room to talk while your mother enjoys her…coffee in peace.”

  Mrs. Duvenbeck’s makeup-covered face flushed. “I’m perfectly capable of talking while I enjoy my coffee.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second,” Lauren said, managing to hide any hint of sarcasm. “But the thing is, if I want to represent Grace to the best of my abilities and handle this situation as efficiently as possible, I need to get a good feeling for who she really is as a person, and I can do that better if we’re alone.”

  Grace got up and put one hand on her mother’s shoulder. “She’s right. We’ll be right back, I promise.” As soon as the door closed behind them, she lightly touched Lauren’s forearm. “I’m sorry. My mother means well, but sometimes, she can be a little…”

  Lauren said nothing. She’d learned the hard way that it was best not to comment on things like this. The loyalty of celebrities could be fickle and change faster than wind direction. Pulling her arm away from Grace’s touch, she pointed down the hall. “This way, please.”

  Grace kept her shoulders squared as she followed her new publicist to the conference room. At least they’d left behind that damn magazine in Lauren’s office, but Grace knew she wouldn’t be able to leave the rumors behind as easily.

  They settled facing each other at one end of the long table in the conference room.

  Lauren put her phone on the table and turned it off, giving Grace her full attention. For several moments, she didn’t say anything; she just sat and looked at her.

  Grace took the opportunity to study her too. In a city where even waitresses were drop-dead gorgeous, Lauren Pearce wouldn’t rate a second glance. Her chin was a bit too assertive, her jaw too energetic, and her body a little too sturdy for her to ever make it in front of the camera, but she certainly looked like someone who could do wonders behind the camera, single-handedly rescuing reputations and changing public opinion. Grace guessed her to be a few years older than her own twenty-nine—certainly not the elderly PR veteran she’d expected, but old enough to have a lot of experience in her job. She radiated confidence as she tucked a strand of her chin-length chocolate-brown hair behind one ear with a steady hand. The hazel eyes behind the horn-rimmed glasses were so light that they almost looked golden.

  “So,” Lauren finally said, “let’s talk openly.”

  Grace nodded. “I’d appreciate it.” Most people in Hollywood were masters at beating around the bush, never coming right out and saying what they meant, so Lauren’s straightforward style of communication was a nice change of pace.

  “Look, I know many managers, agents, and even publicists try to keep their clients in the closet, fearing it’ll ruin their careers.”

  “But I—”

  “Yeah, I’m not a big fan of that strategy either,” Lauren said. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. Coming out will cost you a few roles, but nowadays, it won’t ruin your career. It’s different for gay leading men, but for women—”

  “I’m not gay,” Grace burst out. She felt her cheeks heat, and she cursed her fair complexion.

  “Okay,” Lauren said calmly. Nothing seemed to rattle her. “Then what was going on in that picture? You have to admit the two of you looked pretty friendly.”

  Grace took a deep breath and tried to sound less defensive as she repeated, “I’m not gay. If Jill and I looked friendly, it’s because we are. Just friends. Nothing more. I’d like for you to set the record straight.”

  The corner of Lauren’s mouth twitched at her choice of words, and even Grace felt her tense features relax into a smile.

  “No pun intended,” she added. “What do you think we should do? Give a press conference, stating that I’m straight?”

  Lauren firmly shook her head. “That would only drag attention to that gossip rag that most people don’t even know exists. Besides, the more you swear you’re not gay, the more it’ll look like you’re either in denial or outright lying.”

  “But I’m not!”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Lauren said. “We both know that perception is everything in this business.”

  Grace slumped against the back of the leather chair. “So you want me to just do nothing? I can’t afford any negative publicity right now. My new movie is premiering in two months, and I need it to do well at the box office, especially after my last movie didn’t gross as much as the studio had hoped.”

  “What’s the new movie about?” Lauren asked, appearing genuinely interested. “Some love story set in Georgia, right?”

  “Yes. I’m playing a widow from small-town Georgia. Her husband died in a farming accident, and she stopped believing that life has anything good in store for her.” Grace realized that the Southern accent that she’d worked on for months was back full force, and she tried to shake it off. “By the end of the movie, she finds her faith again and a good man to love.”

  Lauren tapped her chin. “Hmm. I have to admit that doesn’t sound like the kind of movie that would benefit from having the media out its lead actress.”

  “No,�
� Grace said, gritting her teeth. “It sure doesn’t. So, what can we do to stop this madness?”

  “In my experience, one of two things will happen. One,” Lauren raised her index finger, “some starlet is caught driving under the influence or something else happens in Tinseltown that draws the paparazzi’s attention. They’ll simply forget about you. Or, two…” Lauren lifted her middle finger as well.

  “I don’t think I’m going to like option number two,” Grace murmured.

  “Two,” Lauren said, “if it’s a slow news week or something else happens that gives those gay rumors any ammunition…”

  Grace shook her head. “Nothing like that will happen; I can assure you.”

  “Okay, then let’s hope for option number one.” Lauren looked as if she’d prepare for option two nonetheless. She sent Grace a warning glance. “From now on, refer all media inquiries to me. If you do address the press, keep it short and simple. Remember that you can’t be caught lying or dodging questions, or your credibility will be shot.”

  Grace nodded tersely.

  “Lay low for a while and stay out of the headlines,” Lauren continued in the same stern tone. “No parties, no drinking, no warm embraces with other actresses that could be construed as something more.”

  It irked Grace that Lauren thought she was one of the fun-loving party girls. Come on. What do you care what she thinks? But she couldn’t change her nature. She cared what people thought of her, always had and probably always would. Her livelihood depended on people liking her. “I’m not into any of that anyway.”

  “Embraces with other actresses?” Lauren asked, a tiny smile lurking at the corner of her mouth.

  Against her will, Grace had to smile as well. She felt herself relax a little. “Drinking and partying. I don’t mind the embraces—in a strictly platonic way, of course.”

  “Of course,” Lauren said, now completely serious again.

  “So that’s it?”

  Lauren nodded. “Yes. That’s our plan of action. Letting the fire die down by not pouring more fuel into it. It also wouldn’t hurt for you to be seen out and about with that handsome husband of yours, as long as it doesn’t seem like you’re putting on a show for the press.”

  That would be much harder to do. Her interactions with Nick had stopped long ago to feel loving and passionate. They were affectionate, but more like old friends and less like two people still madly in love with each other. Not wanting to discuss it with her new publicist, though, she just nodded.

  They got up, and Lauren walked her to the door, where they paused to shake hands.

  Lauren’s fingers around hers felt strong and capable, and Grace allowed herself to relax and believe that Lauren would guide her through this situation. “Thank you.” She gave Lauren’s hand one last squeeze and walked out to gather her mother and George and make it out of the building with as little attention from fans or the media as possible.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Dinner and dancing?” Lauren repeated, glad that Peyton couldn’t see her lack of enthusiasm through the phone.

  “Yes. You know, that thing normal people do on weekends,” Peyton said, her tone teasing.

  After five business lunches, two cocktail parties, and one premiere this week, the last thing Lauren wanted to do in her free time was to get dressed up and head out again, yet she found herself saying yes anyway. Too bad most women didn’t consider hanging out on the couch in sweatpants a proper dating activity.

  An hour later, Lauren met Peyton in front of El Niu, the trendy restaurant Peyton had suggested.

  “Hi, you.” Peyton kissed her on the lips. “Long time no see,” she said as the hostess led them to their table. Her voice held an undertone of accusation.

  Lauren suppressed a sigh. “Yeah, it’s been a busy week.”

  “More like a busy month,” Peyton said.

  “That too.” Sometimes, Lauren wondered why she even bothered with dating. Her relationships never worked out anyway.

  It wasn’t as if she was too picky or had unrealistically high expectations. The only requirement she had was that her date couldn’t have anything to do with the entertainment industry. She wanted a girlfriend whose only connection to show business was going to a movie theater to enjoy a film, popcorn, and tacos on a Saturday night.

  As a dentist, Peyton definitely met that requirement. She was also pretty and intelligent, but Lauren still found her attention drifting as they studied the menu and talked about what food they’d order. Behind the cover of the menu, she discreetly peered at her phone, which lay next to her on the table, wondering whether Judy had remembered to keep track of Ben’s social media.

  Her cell phone vibrated, indicating that she had new messages, but she valiantly ignored it and kept listening to Peyton’s adventures on her three-day cruise to Ensenada.

  Just when the waiter approached the table to take their orders, Lauren’s phone rang. She had kept it turned on, explaining to Peyton that it was just in case of emergency. Of course, an emergency for one of her clients could be anything from a broken nail without a manicurist on set to a dead body in bed next to them. A quick glance at the display showed her that Marlene was calling. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. It’s my boss.”

  Peyton nodded with a stony expression.

  Lauren pressed the button to accept the call. “Marlene?”

  “K-Cee just got evicted from a hotel in Vegas,” Marlene said, not bothering with a hi or a how are you?

  “What did he do this time?”

  “He took a swing at the concierge. Lauren, I need you to talk to the hotel manager and convince him not to press charges.”

  Lauren tightened her grip on the phone. “I’m not sure if we should continue to represent him. This is the third mess he’s created since we took him on last month. No matter how often I talk to him, he just doesn’t want to understand that the old adage ‘the only bad publicity is no publicity’ stopped being true two arrests ago.”

  “Let’s discuss this another time,” Marlene said. “Take care of this matter first.”

  “All right.” It was Marlene’s company, so she got to make the decisions. Lauren just hoped she was billing K-Cee enough for having to pull his ass out of the fire time and again—on a Saturday night to boot. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” Lauren slowly lowered the phone, pocketed it, and met Peyton’s resigned gaze. “I’m sorry. I have to go. One of my clients got himself into trouble. Why don’t we try for dinner sometime next week? Things should have settled down by then.”

  Peyton refolded her napkin and put it on the table. “I don’t think so. By then, you’ll probably have another fire to put out.”

  Lauren couldn’t even deny it. She’d canceled their second date at the last minute, too, because something had come up at work. If she was perfectly honest with herself, her job had always come first.

  “As nice as it’s been, I’m not into ménages à trois.”

  Halfway out of her chair, Lauren froze. Ménages à trois? What the heck did Peyton mean?

  Peyton gestured to the spot on the table where Lauren’s phone had been. “You, me, and your phone.”

  Ouch. Lauren winced but again didn’t try to defend herself. She rounded the table and took Peyton’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she said again, meaning it. “Let me at least pay for your dinner so you can stay and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Peyton said, now sounding a little more friendly. She stood, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed Lauren, lingering for a moment.

  They both knew it was a kiss good-bye not just for tonight.

  As Lauren headed for her car at a fast clip, she felt like a loser. She did damage control for celebrities every day, yet couldn’t control the damage her job did to her private life.

 
The waiter walked up to their table. “Good evening, ladies. My name is Marc. I’ll be your waiter for—” His gaze came to rest on Grace. He did a double take and paused in the middle of introducing himself. “Uh, you are…”

  Long since used to it, Grace just smiled and said, “Good evening.”

  “Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?” Marc asked when he recovered. “Our wine list is excellent.”

  “I’ll have a glass of pinot grigio, please,” Katherine said.

  “Right away, ma’am.” The waiter turned a questioning gaze on Grace.

  Grace suppressed a sigh. On days like this, it was really tempting to order a glass of champagne, her drink of choice in the past. But, as she had every day for the last thirteen years, she shook her head. “Just a Pellegrino for me.”

  “Very well.” After bowing slightly, he walked away and returned with their drink orders within less than five minutes. He started to recite the specials of the day, but Grace’s mother stopped him with a shake of her head.

  “My son-in-law will be joining us,” Katherine said, apparently enjoying calling Nick that as long as she still could. “We’ll wait to order until he arrives.”

  “Very well. Let me know if you need anything else.” After one last lingering glance at Grace, the waiter walked away.

  By the time they had both emptied their glasses, there was still no sign of Nick. Grace was beginning to doubt he would arrive anytime soon, if at all.

  “What’s keeping Nick so long?” her mother asked.

  “I have no idea, Mom. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or something.” She bit her lip when she realized she was falling into the old habit of finding excuses for him.