Damage Control

by Jae

  Mrs. Duvenbeck blinked rapidly. Her hand with the phone dropped to her side as she stared at the newcomer.

  “This is such a wonderful idea,” the blonde said, twirling once to indicate the entire arcade. “I just told Mr. Garner from the LA Times what a great event it is and that you are the one responsible for it. He was very impressed.”

  “Uh, he was?”

  “Yes, of course! I mean, how could he not be impressed? It’s a genius idea to have the wealthy guests pay for tokens and then have the proceeds go to a nonprofit organization raising money for MS research.”

  Mrs. Duvenbeck looked back and forth between the blonde and Lauren.

  A muffled voice came from the phone hanging limply in Mrs. Duvenbeck’s grasp. She lifted it to her ear. “Yes?”

  Lauren recognized Marlene’s voice but couldn’t tell what she said. Probably the polite PR equivalent of “Why are you calling me on a Friday evening?”

  “I just wanted…” Mrs. Duvenbeck’s gaze veered up to the blonde, who gave her a sweet smile. “I just wanted to thank you for all the great work CT Publicity has been doing for my daughter,” she said with an expression as if she’d been forced to drink a gallon of sour milk.

  Weak-kneed, Lauren bit back a relieved grin.

  Just as Mrs. Duvenbeck ended the call, the sound of Grace’s laughter drifted over from a nearby video game.

  Both Lauren and Mrs. Duvenbeck turned their heads.

  Gripping a plastic gun with both hands, Grace was fighting virtual zombies shoulder to shoulder with Jill.

  Mrs. Duvenbeck whirled back around and stabbed an accusing finger in Jill’s direction. “What is she doing here? I told you not to—”

  “Actually, Mrs. Duvenbeck, she’s my plus one since my partner is away on a photo shoot and couldn’t make it,” the blonde said, once again saving Lauren’s ass.

  “Oh. Well, then… I’ll go greet the reporters.” Mrs. Duvenbeck’s gaze drilled into Lauren. “I will talk to you later. Don’t think for a minute that you’re going to get away with this.” After one last glare, she marched off.

  Lauren blew out a breath. She wanted to hug the blonde, but instead stuck out her hand. “Thank you. You saved my life—or at least my career.”

  “It was my pleasure.” The stranger took Lauren’s hand in a grip that was unexpectedly firm for such a slender woman. “I met Grace’s mother when we were shooting in Vegas, so I know how she can be.”

  Shooting in Vegas? Lauren took a closer look at the blonde. “Oh, wow. You’re Amanda Clark.” Jill had probably put her on the guest list. Lauren had seen her on TV, but once again, the old adage about the camera adding ten pounds was true. The actress looked different than she did on Central Precinct, the TV show she starred in.

  Amanda grinned and tipped an imaginary hat. “In the flesh.”

  “Lauren Pearce. I’m Grace’s publicist.”

  “I gathered that when I saw Mrs. Duvenbeck spitting fire at you because of the party,” Amanda said.

  “Thanks again for slaying that dragon.” They shared a grin. “But you know, I didn’t invite anyone from the LA Times.”

  Amanda shrugged. “Yeah, but Mrs. Duvenbeck doesn’t know that, does she?”

  Laughter bubbled up from Lauren’s chest. “Guess not.”

  “I think I’ll go say hello to the birthday girl before she saves the world from the second attack of the zombies,” Amanda said, pointing over to where Grace was just finishing a game.

  Lauren nodded and watched her go. What was suddenly going on with Hollywood? This was the third actress she’d met within the last few weeks who actually seemed to be a decent human being.

  Grace hugged her colleague, for once omitting the air kisses and the fake, minimal-body-contact embrace so common in Hollywood. “Oh my God, don’t tell me this is a member of the Central Precinct cast out and about before midnight?” She let go of Amanda and pressed her hand to her chest in pretend shock. Then, becoming serious, she asked, “Has your shooting schedule become any lighter?”

  When she had guest-starred in an episode of the popular TV show last year, they’d rarely finished shooting before eight or nine o’clock in the evening, sometimes working for fourteen or more hours a day.

  “I wish. But I didn’t want to miss this, so we did some creative rearranging of scenes, and here I am.” Amanda greeted Jill with a hug too and then looked around. “This is great.”

  “Yes, it is.” Grace took in the large arcade, which had more games than she had ever seen in one place in her entire life. Since she’d spent most of her childhood in front of a camera, that didn’t say much, but this place made her feel like a giddy preschooler.

  In one corner of the room, Nick and Russ were wielding plastic shotguns; across from them, the director of Ava’s Heart was gobbling ghosts at a Pac-Man game, and a reporter Grace had seen at the press conference was making rock star poses with a guitar controller.

  Grace reached out and squeezed Jill’s arm. “Thank you again.”

  “I wish I could take all the credit, but I just came up with the idea,” Jill said. “Lauren did most of the work, booking the arcade for the day and sending out most of the invitations.”

  Grace looked around. She hadn’t seen Lauren since they’d entered the arcade. “Where is she?”

  “Probably hiding from your mother who wasn’t too happy about this travesty,” Amanda said, making air quotes with two fingers of each hand. She held on to Grace when she wanted to march off and rescue Lauren from her mother’s wrath. “Don’t worry. I calmed her down by telling her how much the journalists like it.”

  Grace again let her gaze sweep the room. There was still no sign of Lauren, but the reporters did indeed seem to enjoy themselves. They probably were as sick of boring cocktail parties as Grace was.

  Jill hooked her arms through Grace’s and Amanda’s. “Come on,” Jill said and pulled them with her. “Let’s see what kind of mischief we can get into. Ooh, they have Skee-Ball! Let’s play.”

  Grace looked at the different-sized rings at the end of an inclined ramp. “I have no idea how to play.”

  Jill was already feeding tokens into the machine, making nine wooden balls clatter down into a chute. “Don’t worry. It’s not rocket science.”

  While she listened to Jill’s explanation of the rules, Grace let her gaze wander through the arcade again. She was beginning to think that maybe Lauren had gone home now that the party was in full swing when she finally found her bent over the air hockey table.

  Grace couldn’t make out whom she was playing since the other player’s back was to her. Lauren’s face, bathed in the glow of the bluish light in the arcade, was intent like that of a warrior readying for battle. Grace wondered if she approached every part of her life with this intensity. For a moment, an image of Lauren in a heated embrace with another woman flashed through her head before she forced the thought from her mind.

  Lauren shoved an unruly strand of hair out of her face and glanced up.

  Their gazes met.

  The puck shot past Lauren’s paddle and clattered into the goal slot while Lauren’s opponent let out a triumphant cry.

  “Sorry,” Grace mouthed.

  Lauren grinned and shrugged.

  Jill tugged on her sleeve. “Hey! You’re not paying attention.”

  Grace turned back toward her. “Go ahead and show me. I’m watching your every move with complete and utter attention.”

  Jill swung her arm as if she were bowling and rolled the first ball up the inclined ramp.

  Lauren wandered the arcade, every now and then stopping to play a game with someone who hadn’t yet found a partner. Even though Mrs. Duvenbeck had already left in protest, she was sure she hadn’t heard the last of it from her, so if she was in for more ass-ch
ewing, the least she could do was make sure everyone else thoroughly enjoyed the party.

  Grace certainly did.

  Grinning, Lauren looked over to the Skee-Ball ramps, where Grace was playing with Jill and Amanda. It was hard to believe that she was watching three well-known, seasoned actresses. They looked more like carefree children as they competed against each other and did little victory dances when they hit one of the high-score slots.

  When it was her turn, Grace took one of the wooden balls, pretended to spit on it, and rolled it down the lane. It launched off a short ramp, gave a little hop, and landed squarely in the fifty-point ring at the top.

  Grace threw her arms up and cheered.

  Lauren’s grin grew. This made the confrontation with Mrs. Duvenbeck worth it. She would bet her next paycheck that Grace had never gotten to play in an arcade as a child or teenager and was glad that she had helped give her a chance to experience it now.

  She leaned against an out-of-order Galaga machine and watched as the three women wandered over to the shooting range to try something else.

  Russ and Nick were already there, and they happily showed the women how the game was played. Nick wrapped his arms around Grace from behind, pressing against her back, his hands covering hers as he showed her how to aim the plastic rifle.

  Lauren’s grin withered, and she mentally gagged. Oh, come on. As Grace’s publicist, she knew she should be happy that Nick was willing to play along and pretend that he and Grace were still the deeply in love, touchy-feely couple. Still, she didn’t like it. It wasn’t that she was jealous, she told herself. She just didn’t like them putting on a show, acting even though the cameras weren’t rolling. She’d had enough of that at home growing up.

  She pushed off the out-of-order machine and headed toward one of the shooting games. Blasting up some zombies was exactly what she needed now.

  After a few more games, Grace realized they’d lost Amanda somewhere in the crowd and that Jill was getting tired. Her movements were slower than before, and she blinked repeatedly as if she had trouble seeing in the dim, bluish light of the arcade. “How about we take a break?”

  Jill dug in her heels when Grace tried to drag her away from the games. “No. I demand a rematch.”

  Christ. Women. Why did they have to be so stubborn? Grace glanced around for something that would help distract her friend. “But there’s a fortune-telling machine over there.” She pointed in the direction of the oak-and-glass cabinet. “Let’s go and see what the future holds for us.”

  “I’m not so sure I want to know,” Jill muttered.

  Grace rubbed Jill’s arm. “Hey, come on. It’s my birthday. No morose thoughts allowed.”

  “Sorry. I don’t usually—”

  “I know,” Grace said. Now completely serious, she looked into Jill’s eyes. “You never complain, and you always seem happy and upbeat. I know it’s probably not like that deep inside. If you ever have a bad day and want to bitch or cry or whatever, you can call me any time. You know that, don’t you?”

  Biting her lip, Jill nodded. She hugged Grace for a moment and then pushed her away. “Come on. Your bright future is waiting.” She dragged Grace over to the fortune-teller puppet in the oak cabinet and pressed a token into her hand.

  When Grace put it into the slot, the life-sized puppet started to move, sagely nodding her head, which made her red-and-gold headscarf sway. The crystal ball in front of her lit up as she circled her bracelet-adorned hand over it. “Come closer and listen to what Zamira the Gypsy has to tell you.”

  Jill nudged Grace forward.

  “Here’s my wisdom for you,” the gypsy said, her mouth opening and closing. “Your hard work will pay off in the future.”

  “Oooh,” Jill whispered. “There might be an Oscar in your future after all!”

  “But laziness pays off right now, so use this day to relax and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” The puppet’s mouth snapped shut, and the crystal ball went dark.

  “That’s it?” Grace said. “That was all?”

  Jill grinned and elbowed her. “What were you hoping for?” She lowered her voice, “A hookup with some tall, dark, and handsome stranger?”

  Grace snorted and leaned toward Jill to whisper, “No, thanks. I think I’ll stay away from men for the foreseeable future.”

  “Ooh, look. There’s a card.”

  Grace looked at where Jill was pointing. A printed card with an image of Zamira the Gypsy on the back slipped out of a dispenser. Expecting the same generic enjoy-yourself-today fortune that the puppet had handed out, Grace picked up the card and read it.

  Although you may not look for it, love will soon arrive, changing the course of your life. It might not look like a blessing at first, but remember that the greatest pleasures in life often come from unexpected sources.

  She stared at the card for a moment.

  “What is it?” Jill asked and tried to peer at the card.

  “Nothing.” Grace shook her head. It was just a generic fortune, not intended for her specifically. Everybody probably got the same card. She pocketed it and let herself be dragged away from the fortune-telling machine.

  It was close to eleven already, but the party still showed no signs of winding down. Everywhere Lauren looked, celebrities, entertainment professionals, and reporters were still playing with abandon.

  Jill sidled up next to her and bumped Lauren with her hip. “Looks like Operation Fun Birthday is a success. And Katherine hasn’t killed you either.”

  “She’s just waiting until we’re back outside, where the blood won’t be so hard to remove from the floor,” Lauren said.

  Jill laughed. “It was worth it, though, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It definitely was.” The joy on Grace’s face as she played had made it all worthwhile.

  As if conjured up by Lauren’s thoughts, Grace appeared behind Jill and pressed a bottle of water into her hands. “Here. Drink this.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Jill emptied half of the bottle in several big gulps.

  Lauren studied her and lifted a brow at Grace, silently asking whether everything was okay with Jill.

  Grace subtly shook her head. “How about we wrap up this party?”

  “Now?” Jill asked. “But everybody’s still having so much fun!”

  “Yeah, but now that I’m thirty, I tire more easily,” Grace said without missing a beat.

  Lauren hid a grin. She liked the unobtrusive way Grace took care of her friend without making her feel as if she were being treated like a child.

  “Spoilsport,” Jill grumbled. “All right. But first, I want to play one last game with you two. Your pick, Lauren.”

  After letting her gaze roam over the nearby games, Lauren pointed decisively. “How about pinball?”

  “Do you know how to play?” Grace asked, eyeing the vintage pinball machine.

  “Please. I’m a lesbian. We’re contractually required to be good at pinball, or we lose our lesbian card.”

  “Is that so?”

  Grace’s drawl made goose bumps erupt all over Lauren’s body.

  “Yes,” she croaked out and sent Jill an imploring gaze. “Right, Jill?”

  Jill looked back and forth between them. “Right. Go ahead and start.”

  Lauren cracked her knuckles and stretched her fingers like a piano player preparing for the concert of a lifetime.

  “Uh-oh,” Grace said. “Why do I get the feeling we’re about to be hustled?”

  Lauren just grinned and popped two tokens into the machine, which lit up and started playing eighties music. She pulled the plunger and flung the silver ball into play.

  Her first ball quickly escaped through the paddles. Christ, it had been some time since she’d last played pinball. She tried to remembe
r how long it had been since she’d taken any time off to just enjoy herself, but other than a few hours of writing on Sundays, nothing came to mind. Maybe Grace was right. She was a workaholic.

  She propelled her next ball upward, this time getting back into the rhythm of the game, pressing the buttons at exactly the right moment. The ball banged and bounced against the rubber bumpers, and then she flung it up into the megapoints zone.

  Lights flashed, and bells rang.

  Lauren lost herself in the game, no longer keeping track of time. When she finally straightened and stepped back, she felt gazes on her and turned.

  “Not bad for an old woman,” Jill said. She gestured at Grace to go before her. “Age before beauty.”

  Grace stepped forward and bent over the pinball machine, involuntarily drawing Lauren’s gaze toward her firm backside.

  She quickly looked away, just in time to see Jill winking at her. Scowling, she kept her gaze directed at the pinball machine.

  Grace sent the ball flying the way she’d seen Lauren do it, but it quickly rolled down a gutter. The second ball fared no better. Grace’s shoulders slumped. “Good thing I’m not a lesbian, or the committee would revoke my card,” she mumbled.

  “Let me show you.” Lauren stepped behind her before she could stop herself.

  “Hey, no helping allowed,” Jill said.

  “I’m her publicist. It’s my job to make her look good with so many journalists around.”

  Grace turned her head and grinned over her shoulder. “Yeah. We wouldn’t want Lauren to have to handle headlines about Grace Durand sucking at pinball, would we?”

  Jill flung up her hands. “Whatever.”