Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) (21 page)

“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 remember 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.”

Grace slid her feet shoulder-width apart and braced herself for the next game. She felt Lauren step up behind her, so close that her front almost touched Grace’s back. Then Lauren reached around her and her hands covered Grace’s on the red buttons that moved the flippers.

Part of Grace wanted to protest this closeness. What if one of the reporters saw them and misunderstood? She told herself she was overreacting. It was just a game after all. Even the journalists would see that, and her mother was no longer here to watch her every move.

“Ready?” Lauren asked from just inches away, her breath hot on Grace’s ear.

A shiver went through Grace.
Just the excitement of the game.
Focusing on the pinball machine in front of her, she nodded.

The silver ball streaked up the ramp and ricocheted its way down.

“Wait, wait,” Lauren whispered. “Wait…now!” Her left hand pressed down on Grace’s.

The flipper snapped up, hitting the ball at exactly the right moment and volleying it up. It careened through a ramp and hit a couple of targets, which lit up in red, white, and blue colors.

Sirens and bells went off.

The ball bounced back and forth between bumpers before dropping down.

With one quick squeeze of their hands, Lauren catapulted it back up.

It clanged through a series of bumpers and bells, quickly making the number on the scoreboard climb.

Her skin warming and all her senses involved now, Grace pressed the buttons along with Lauren. They managed to keep the ball in play for quite some time until it finally dropped straight down.

“Oh, shit.” Helplessly, Grace watched as the ball came down right between the flippers, where she couldn’t reach it.

Just when she thought it would be game over in a second, Lauren thrust her hips against her from behind, nudging Grace against the pinball machine.

The ball changed its trajectory, and Lauren shot it back up with one flick of the right flipper. “You have to play with your entire body, not just your hands,” she said right into Grace’s ear. “Try it.”

Her body felt as if it was on fire.
Game fever.
Grace waited until the ball was on its way down again before she rocked her hips against the machine.

The scoring lights went out, and “tilt — game over” flashed on the scoreboard.

Lauren dropped her arms from around Grace and stepped back.

Dazed, Grace turned. Her cheeks were hot, and she felt flushed with the excitement of the game. “What happened?”

“You nudged it too hard and triggered the tilt mechanism, which shuts the game down,” Lauren said and took another step back. Even in the bluish light of the arcade, her face looked flushed too.

No wonder. It was pretty warm in here. Grace turned toward Jill. “Not bad for an old woman, huh?”

“Not bad at all.” Jill grinned broadly and shouldered past them. “My turn now.”

It was after midnight when Grace finally stepped out of the arcade. The ocean breeze ruffled her hair and cooled her overheated body. She was exhausted, but at the same time, she was sad to see the evening end and the last of her guests leave.

Her mother had fled back home with the first person leaving the party, and Grace hadn’t seen Lauren since she’d walked Jill to her car. Just when she started to wonder how she’d get home, a quiet voice reached her.

“Grace, over here.”

She peered into the almost darkness at the edge of the pier.

Lauren stood at the railing, leaning against it with one hip.

Smiling, Grace walked over.

“Who’s your cute friend?” Lauren asked.

For a moment, Grace had no idea what she meant, but then Lauren gestured at the stuffed animal that Grace had just traded for her stack of tickets at the prize counter. She held it out for Lauren to see. “I think she’s a lynx.”

“She?”

Grace shrugged and stroked one of the soft, bushy ears. “I don’t know. She just looks like a female to me.” She leaned against the railing next to Lauren. “Didn’t you get yourself anything for the tickets you won?”

“I gave them to one of the journalists I know. He has three kids at home,” Lauren said.

Grace smiled. For someone who showed the world just her tough publicist persona most of the time, Lauren sure had a soft heart.

They both listened to the sound of the waves rolling in and the bustling of the people in the amusement park still open somewhere behind them. After a while, Grace spontaneously turned and pressed the lynx into Lauren’s hands. “Here.”

“For me?” In the dim light, Lauren’s eyes looked just as big and round as those of the stuffed animal. “But it’s your birthday, not mine.”

Grace glanced at her wristwatch. “Not anymore. It’s five minutes past midnight.”

“Still. You won it fair and square.” Lauren tried to give back the lynx, but Grace refused to take it.

“Please. Keep it. At least until I can come up with a better idea to say thank you.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to. This was by far the best birthday I ever had, and I know you risked my mother’s wrath by making it possible.”

Lauren’s brow furrowed. Did she find it pathetic that a day at the arcade was Grace’s best birthday of all time? Finally, she nodded, accepting the stuffed lynx and cuddling it to her chest. “Thank you.”

“No, thank
you
.”

They looked at each other, then Lauren pushed away from the railing. “Come on. The limo is waiting to drive you and Betty home.”

Grace frowned at the mention of her birth name. “Betty?”

Grinning, Lauren lifted the little lynx.

“Oh, no. You did not name her Betty!”

“Oh, yes, I did.”

They playfully argued about it all the way to the limousine.

CHAPTER 15

Lauren had worked on the electronic press kits for
Ava’s Heart
all morning, putting together a series of sixty-second clips of the movie and behind-the-scenes footage the studio had sent. She laughed at a blooper in which a hen kept pecking at Grace’s leg. It clucked and thrashed its wings when a production assistant tried to grab it and drag it away from Grace.

“Grace Durand, chick magnet.” Lauren laughed and shook her head. The memory of the magnetic effect Grace had exerted on her in the arcade last week resurfaced. Showing her how to play pinball hadn’t been one of her better ideas. As soon as she felt Grace’s heat against her body, she’d wanted to wrap her arms around her and press even closer.

Thank God the remainder of her professionalism had kicked in before she could make a fool of herself or draw the attention of a journalist. How would Grace react if she ever found out how much Lauren had enjoyed their semi-embrace?
You’d better make sure she never finds out, or her mother won’t have to bother trying to get you fired.

Not wanting to linger on those thoughts for too long, she double-clicked on the next video. It was a day-in-the-life segment that followed the actors of
Ava’s Heart
through an ordinary day on the set. The footage started at five o’clock in the morning, with Grace entering the makeup trailer, carrying two paper cups of coffee.

Two?
Even a known coffee addict like Lauren usually contented herself with one cup on the way to work.

When Grace placed the second paper cup next to the makeup case, Lauren understood. She’d brought in coffee for the makeup artist. The logo on the cup indicated that it wasn’t the free swill from the studio’s catering area but a rather expensive designer coffee. With every other actress, Lauren would have snorted and assumed that she’d done it just this once to make herself look good on camera, but Grace seemed like the kind of woman who’d do that every day.

In the video, Grace settled in the makeup chair.

The makeup lady spun her into position in front of a backlit mirror and started applying concealer and foundation. Then a close-up of Grace’s full lips followed as a medium pink lipstick glided over them, following their gentle curves. Grace’s mouth opened slightly.

Blindly, Lauren grabbed for the nearest piece of paper on her desk and used it to fan herself. Maybe this would be a good clip to include in the press kit. If it had this effect on her, it might work for Grace’s male fans too.

Her phone rang, interrupting her in-depth study of Grace’s lips. She reached for it without looking away from the screen. “Chandler & Troy Publicity, Lauren Pearce speaking.”

“Hello, Ms. Pearce. This is Katherine Duvenbeck.”

The cool voice made Lauren sit up straight and close the video that was playing on her computer screen. She felt like a teenager who’d been caught watching porn. “Uh, hello, Mrs. Duvenbeck. What can I do for you?”

She waited, almost afraid of the answer. Since Grace’s mother had stomped out of the arcade, Lauren hadn’t heard from her, but she hadn’t forgotten Mrs. Duvenbeck’s promise that she’d talk to her later.

“I want you to call my son-in-law and set up a date for him and Grace in a place where they will be photographed together,” Mrs. Duvenbeck said.

Lauren took a pen from her desk and started fiddling with its clip. “Is that really necessary?”

“I thought you agreed on that strategy?”

“Well, I didn’t outright object to it. But the fundraiser at the arcade gave Grace a lot of positive press, making the public forget about the mud the media was slinging before. A fake date won’t be necessary.” After seeing Grace and Nick together at the birthday party, Lauren wasn’t eager to look at photos of them playing the happy couple.

“Leave that for me to decide,” Mrs. Duvenbeck said.

The clip broke off the pen and ricocheted across the room. “I’m just saying. If the media finds out that they’re going through a divorce, this date will make them look like they’ve been pretending all along.”

Mrs. Duvenbeck seemed to think about it for a few seconds. “No, we’re going through with this. Who knows, maybe when they start spending some time together, they’ll reconcile and forget about this stupid divorce.”

Oh, come on.
She couldn’t really believe that, could she? Grace had appeared quite certain that her marriage was over for good.

“So go ahead and call him,” Mrs. Duvenbeck said, making it sound like an order—which it was. “You have his number, don’t you?”

“I do.” Lauren gritted her teeth.
Who does she think I am—a pimp?
Why didn’t Mrs. Duvenbeck call her beloved son-in-law herself if she was so eager for them to go out? Then she understood. This was Mrs. Duvenbeck’s revenge—her way of showing Lauren that she wouldn’t allow her to ignore her orders.

“Good. Talk to you soon.”

Not if I can help it.
Lauren hung up after a stiff good-bye. Her jaw muscles bunched as she held the phone in her hand for a few moments.
Come on. Get it over with.
She scrolled through her contact list and called Nick to set up a date for Grace.

Nick instantly agreed. “I need to talk to her anyway,” he said.

Lauren furrowed her brow, wondering what a couple about to divorce could possibly have to talk about. Was he indeed aiming to reconcile, as Mrs. Duvenbeck hoped? She rolled her eyes at herself. Christ, when had she become so curious? Grace would tell her whatever she needed to know as her publicist. The rest was none of her business.

She kept repeating that to herself as she called Grace to let her know about her date.

“Hi, Lauren.” Grace sounded happy to hear from her. “How are you?”

“Uh, I’m fine.”

“Good. And how’s Betty doing?”

When Lauren realized Grace was talking about the stuffed animal, she had to laugh. “She’s doing fine too. Reigning over my couch and demanding lots of adoration and many hot dogs.”

“What? The couch? She’s not allowed in your bed?”

Lauren bit back a comment about reserving her bed for women.
She’s a client, remember?
“Um, listen, I’m calling about a date…uh…about your date with Nick.” God, what was it about this woman that made her stammer like a starstruck girl?

“Do you really think that’s still necessary after
Entertainment Weekly
published the photo of Nick teaching me how to shoot in the arcade?” Grace asked.

“I personally don’t think it is, but your mother insisted.”

“Gosh, this feels like being sixteen again and having Mom pick my dates,” Grace mumbled.

Lauren felt her eyebrows creep up her forehead.
Her mother picked her dates for her?

“She wanted me to be seen with all the right people,” Grace explained as if sensing the unasked question. She was silent for a few moments before saying, “Okay. If she thinks it’s for the best, then let’s do it. When and where?”

“Saturday at eight in The Aerie,” Lauren said.

“That posh rooftop sushi bar in Venice Beach?” Grace sounded less than enthusiastic.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, the sushi is supposed to be good, and you can watch the sunset from the top of the building.”

Grace sighed and mumbled, “I’d rather join you and Betty for hot dogs on the couch.”

Lauren was stunned into silence. Did Grace really mean that? Of course, she couldn’t ask.

“Okay,” Grace said. “I wrote it down. Tell Nick he’s got a date.”

Okay, that’s it. If she drags out one more thing, I’ll just go naked.
Grace stared at the stack of clothes piled on her bed. Her mother had regarded each item for a second before declaring it not good enough. “Mom,” Grace said before her mother could pull out the other half of her closet too. “It’s just Nick.” If left to her own devices, she would have grabbed the article of clothing on top of the pile and put it on. Case closed.

But with her mother, things were never that easy. “Just Nick?” She shook her head. “That’s the kind of attitude that made your marriage fail.”

Maybe she was right. While Nick had always been important to her, he’d never played first fiddle in her life. She itched to remind her mother that she’d encouraged Grace to put her career first but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Trying to be patient, she watched her mother rummage through her walk-in closet.

Finally, she handed Grace a fiery-red dress with a plunging neckline.

Grace held it to her chest and peeked down at herself. “Isn’t that a little over the top for a sushi bar?”

Her mother sent her a gaze that made Grace duck her head.

“Okay, I’ll wear it.”

At least she would make some paparazzi happy.

Grace knew something weird was going on with Nick even before their date started. He called her the day before, asking if she would mind driving and picking him up so he could have some sake with his dinner.

Normally, he didn’t drink around her. But apparently, he thought he needed alcohol to make it through dinner with her. Grace frowned. Were things really that bad between them? They were still friends, weren’t they?

They found a parking spot not too far from The Aerie.

A horde of fans and paparazzi surrounded them as soon as they got out of Grace’s SUV. Someone—probably her mother—must have tipped them off. Camera shutters clicked, and strobe flashes went off as Nick gallantly wrapped one arm around her.

Grace slung one arm around Nick’s athletic middle and put on her infatuated-wife smile.
There, Mom. Happy now?

Young women, barely out of their teens, screamed and waved pen and paper at Nick, wanting his autograph. A few of them seemed to want more than just autographs, as a red lace bra arched through the air.

Nick caught it, grinning, and blew a kiss at the overeager fan.

Grace just shook her head and signed some autographs of her own. She realized that she wasn’t jealous anymore. After considering it for a moment, she discovered that she’d never been jealous of young women throwing their underwear at her husband. Maybe that should have been a clue.

Finally leaving their fans behind, they veered around a couple of skateboarders and strolled toward the sushi bar. Perched atop a hotel, it offered a great view of the palm tree-lined beach and the Pacific.

A cool breeze from the ocean made Grace wish she hadn’t listened to her mother and had worn something other than the revealing dress. Nick seemed too distracted by whatever was on his mind to appreciate it anyway. But then again, she was wearing the dress for the media, not for Nick, and the paparazzi who’d followed them up to the rooftop certainly seemed to like it. They snapped picture after picture. When two waiters descended on them, they finally left.

Grace allowed herself to relax and tipped the waiter generously as he brought her a blanket. While she looked over the menu, her mind went to the hot dogs Lauren had served her last month.

They nibbled on shitake tofu, spicy tuna rolls, and yellowtail carpaccio and talked about the party at the arcade, Nick’s new movie, and Grace’s upcoming trip to Las Vegas. Nick downed his sake in one shot and poured himself another from a small ceramic bottle.

The sun sank lower and dipped below the horizon, coloring the ocean and the clouds in shades of orange, gold, and crimson. Grace leaned her chin on her hand and gazed toward the horizon, but Nick didn’t seem to even notice the beautiful view.

Finally, Grace leaned back and regarded him across the table. “What’s wrong?”

His head jerked up. “Excuse me?”

“I asked you what’s wrong.”

“Nothing. Not really.”

Grace shook her head at him. “You might be an actor, but you can’t fool me. Something’s going on.”

He glanced left and right. “Not here. I’ll tell you in the car.”

The tension at the table rose. Grace’s mind churned, coming up with all kinds of things he might have to say. Was he sick? Giving up on acting? Or maybe he wanted to have the cottage instead of the house once the divorce was final? Whatever it was, it was probably bad if he didn’t want to tell her in public, afraid she’d make a scene.