Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) (22 page)

She quickly finished her water so they could pay and leave.

“Would you like to get the rest of that to go?” the waiter asked as he brought them the bill.

“No, thanks,” Grace said while Nick answered, “Yes.”

The waiter looked back and forth between them.

“Yes, please,” Nick repeated.

Grace gritted her teeth. Now they’d have to wait for the waiter to wrap the tuna rolls. Was Nick trying to delay the inevitable?

Ten minutes later, they finally left the sushi bar. Neither of them said anything until they got into the SUV and pulled out onto the street. Now no one could overhear what Nick was about to tell her.

Grace glanced into the rearview mirror but couldn’t make out any cars following them as they drove toward Silver City. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Tell me.”

He rubbed his mouth as if trying to hold back the words. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Just say it. Whatever it is, I won’t bite your head off.”

Nick glanced at the dashboard, the rearview mirror, the back of Grace’s seat…everywhere but at her. “Shailene is pregnant.”

Grace nearly hit a telephone pole before she got control of herself and the SUV again. The words echoed through her head on auto repeat, so she shook her head to stop the audio loop. “How the hell did that happen?”

“Uh, the usual way,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a small smile.

Grace braked at a red light and turned her head to glare at him, making the smile drop off his face. “You think this is funny? Let’s see if you’ll keep your sense of humor once the media starts writing crap about you. Now we’ll never be able to sell them that neither of us was having an affair.”

His jaw muscles clenched. “I know. But don’t worry. This won’t fall back on you. I’ll be the cheating husband, and you’ll be off the hook with the media and the public.”

It wasn’t that easy. At least some of the gossip rags would try for a different angle. “That’s what you think. I can already see the headlines: Poor Nick. Grace was so focused on her career that she refused to give him kids. He couldn’t help going elsewhere to start a family.”

The light turned green. Grace stomped her foot down on the accelerator.

“What would you have me do?” A little anger crept into his tone. “Pressure Shailene into getting an abortion?”

“Jesus, no. I never said that.”

“I’m sorry, but it happened and I can’t undo it,” Nick said stiffly. “I’m not even sure if I’d want to. You know I always wanted kids.”

That had been the only bone of contention in their marriage. Nick wanted children—the more, the better—but Grace was ambivalent. If she ever had kids, she didn’t want them to grow up the way she had, on movie sets. That meant giving up her career. Grace hadn’t been ready for that.

Her mother had advised her to wait and said that she could always start a family later, but if she hadn’t made it in Hollywood by the time she was thirty, she’d never make it.

Now she was thirty, and her soon-to-be ex-husband was having a baby with another woman.

She shook her head at the irony of it all.

“I want to marry her as soon as the divorce is final,” Nick continued.

Grace clutched the steering wheel more tightly. “Of course,” she answered stiffly. She tried to be happy for Nick, even though this was going to be a public-relations nightmare for her. This was what he’d always wanted. He’d been the one who had wanted to get married while Grace had been content to just live together. Finally, she’d given in at her mother’s encouragement, even though part of her had always known she’d never be happy having 2.5 kids and a house with a white picket fence with Nick.

She pulled onto I-405 and headed north, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. The same car had been behind them since they’d left the sushi bar. “Great,” Grace mumbled. “There’s a paparazzo glued to my rear bumper.”

When they reached Nick’s apartment, Grace stopped the SUV.

The paparazzo was still right behind them, probably snapping pictures.

Nick craned his neck. “Shit. He’s watching us. I can’t just say bye and get out.”

No, he couldn’t. If they wanted the media to buy that Nick was staying at the Silver City apartment only because it was closer to the studio, just a quick wave wouldn’t do; they needed a more heartfelt good-bye.

“Well, we’re actors, so…” Grace breathed in deeply and glanced at his lips. There had been a time when she’d liked kissing him, but she could barely remember. As much as she wanted to feel even one little spark of the old passion, it wasn’t happening.
Method acting 101. Think of someone else.
But she wasn’t interested in anyone else either. Sighing, she wrapped one arm around Nick and leaned across the middle console.

The familiar scent of his cologne brushed her nostrils. He slid one arm around her, so close now that she could feel his body heat.

An image flashed through Grace’s mind—or more of a sensory memory, really—of Lauren’s warm body pressing against her from behind while they played pinball. The mental picture surprised her, almost making her pull back, but then she calmed herself. No big deal. She had thought of the strangest things during her film kisses—fantasizing about how much she craved a chocolate bar, calculating camera angles, and brainstorming ideas for her mother’s birthday present.

Nick pressed his mouth against hers and kissed her.

Jesus, this is awkward.

At least he was smart enough to know he’d lose his tongue if he tried to slip it into her mouth.

Flashes went off outside of the SUV.

Grace waited another second, until she could be sure the paparazzo had gotten a couple of good shots, and then pulled back, lightly grazing his cheek with her fingertips for effect as she did.

Nick cleared his throat. “Good night. And thanks for dropping me off.” He reached for the door lever and climbed out of the SUV.

Just as he was about to close the door, Grace called, “Nick?”

“Yes?” He stuck his head back in.

Grace forced a smile. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you, even if your timing really sucks.”

“Thank you. I really… That means a lot.” He gave her a grateful nod and then closed the door between them.

For once, Lauren didn’t have a red-carpet event or a promo op she had to attend on Saturday night. Finally a chance to get caught up on her e-mail! She rolled her eyes at herself.
That’s your idea of a fun weekend? Wow, you really are a party animal, aren’t you?

Shaking her head, she settled down on the couch with her laptop and a glass of red wine. Once she was done with her e-mail, she opened her screenwriting program, rubbed her fingers together to warm them, and then touched them to the keyboard.

But again, the words wouldn’t come. Writer’s block still had her tightly in its clutches. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t come up with a satisfying ending for this damn script.

Instead of seeing her main characters in the burned-down San Francisco, the only image that formed in her mind’s eye was of Grace out on a date with her husband. Lauren wondered how that was going. Were they having a good time, or could Grace barely wait to get back home? Had they taken separate cars, or would Nick drive her home, maybe come in for a cup of coffee…or more?

Growling, she refilled her glass and took a big sip of wine, then a second and a third.

She rarely drank, so just a glass and a half of wine made her a bit tipsy. Since she was at home, she didn’t mind but resolved to nurse the remainder. The wine didn’t help with her writer’s block anyway.

Just when she contemplated giving up for today and heading to bed to catch up on some much-needed sleep, the doorbell rang, making her jump.

Jesus.
Who could that be at this hour? It was close to eleven already. Barefoot, she marched to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Even though her famous face was distorted by the fish-eye glass, it was unmistakably Grace standing in front of her door.

Lauren looked down at the pair of pajamas she was wearing. Not exactly the kind of clothing she wanted to wear while talking to a client. But then again, Grace wasn’t visiting her at the office. After a second’s hesitation, she slid back the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Grace stood in front of her in a crimson dress that ended mid-thigh. Its plunging neckline gave a stunning view of her ample cleavage. A pair of blood-red stilettos made her legs look even longer.

Her mouth suddenly dry, Lauren had to swallow and look away before she could say, “Isn’t it a little late to come over for hot dogs?”

Grace didn’t smile.

“What’s wrong?” Lauren asked, alarmed.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but… Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Belatedly, Lauren stepped back and closed the door behind Grace before leading her to the living room. “Make yourself at home.”

Grace plopped down onto the couch and eyed Lauren’s half-f glass of red wine.

“Uh, let me get rid of that.” For a moment, Lauren contemplated just gulping down the rest of the wine. Somehow, she had a feeling she would need it in a minute. But she didn’t want to drink in front of Grace, so she carried it to the kitchen and poured it down the drain.

When she returned, Grace had picked up Betty from the corner of the couch and cuddled the little plush lynx against her chest.

Lucky cat.
Lauren gave herself a mental slap.
Stop it, idiot. Mind on the job!
She sat across from Grace in the armchair. It was better to keep her distance while she felt a bit intoxicated by the red wine and the sight of Grace in the stunning dress.

“I’m really sorry to just drop by on a Saturday night, but this is something that I didn’t want to discuss on the phone,” Grace said. “I also didn’t want you to be blindsided by it, so…”

After all the things Grace had kept from her in the beginning, Lauren appreciated being kept in the loop. But what was it that Grace had come here to say? What could be so urgent? “Did something happen while you were out with Nick?”

Grace stalled by putting the lynx down and smoothing its tufted ears.

Lauren slid onto the edge of the armchair. “Did he…try to get back together?”

“Oh, no. That ship has sailed—for both of us,” Grace said. “It seems Shailene isn’t just his rebound girlfriend after all.”

“Shailene?” Who the heck was that?

“His new girlfriend. She’s pregnant.”

For a second or two, Lauren was relieved. Nick and Grace wouldn’t get back together. Then her slightly buzzed brain grasped the meaning of what Grace had just said. She jumped up. “Jesus! We get one nightmare with the press cleaned up and now this. It’s starting to feel like being stuck in a soap opera.”

“Tell me about it,” Grace muttered.

“How are we supposed to sell it to the media that it’s an amicable divorce?”

“Why are you asking me?” Grace grumbled. “You’re the public-relations expert, not me.”

Lauren sank back into the armchair. “I’ll think of something. Don’t worry.” Her mind was spinning, already putting together a media strategy and brainstorming the best news outlets for an exclusive interview. After a minute or two, she remembered that she wasn’t alone and glanced over at Grace.

Her skin looked a little pale against the deep red of her dress, and her full lips were compressed into a thin line, but otherwise she appeared perfectly composed.

“Do you think this could end up hurting my career?” Grace asked, a tiny wrinkle between her brows.

“Ultimately, I don’t think so. Nick is the one who got involved with someone else while you’re still married, not you.”

“Yeah, but he’s an action star,” Grace said. “People expect him to be a virile macho who has women throwing themselves at him wherever he goes. Fathering a baby with another woman won’t ruin his image. But if people start thinking I’m a cold-hearted career woman who denied him the chance to have a family…”

“That won’t happen. When the time comes, we’ll go public with some interviews that will have even his fans wanting to castrate him with a blunt, rusty instrument.”

Grace cracked a smile but then shook her head. “No mudslinging, remember? I want this to be a clean divorce, despite everything.”

She sounded so reasonable, so levelheaded. What was really going on inside of her? “How are you doing with this?” Lauren asked quietly.

“Like I just said, I’m worried about how this will affect my career.”

Lauren shook her head. “I’m not talking about your career. I’m talking about how it affects you as a person. As a woman. I mean, your husband just told you he’s going to have a baby with another woman…”

Grace shrugged, her expression calm. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“You know, there are no cameras in my apartment,” Lauren said.

“Excuse me? I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I mean that you can stop acting,” Lauren said. “You don’t need to put on a show for me. You have a right to be hurt and angry.”

For a moment, Grace looked as if she would rebuke her for her open words. “You want anger?” Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes hurled daggers at Lauren. “All right. I wanted to ram the goddamn chopsticks the waiter put into the doggie bag down Nick’s throat and kick him where it really, really hurts.” She kicked out as if demonstrating. Her bare shin hit the coffee table. Moaning, she bent over and clutched her leg. “Ouch. Dammit. See? That’s why I try not to get angry. The only person who ends up getting hurt is me.”