Perfectly Scripted (36 page)

“You look beautiful,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, “and most certainly, perfectly fucked.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Actually, I’m just a man in love, and I think I’d quite like to have another go-around with you. We have to make up for lost time.”

“Shower with me,” I said, kicking my heels off.

Ronan followed me into the bathroom. I pinned my hair up as he turned the water on.

“I love you,” he murmured against my lips before grabbing the soap.

He washed every inch of my skin, pampering me, kissing my jaw, my neck, and my lips. Steam curled around us, and the world once again drifted away. Then my arms came around his neck, and he cuddled me close.

“I love you, Ronan Connolly. Now and always.”

He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Forever. I’ll love you forever.”

Ronan

The last day of filming had finally arrived, and the sun had begun to peek above the horizon. On set, I was standing outside my trailer, sipping my coffee, watching the city spring to life. I reached for my iPhone and sent Holliday a message.

ME:
I cannot wait to see your beautiful face tomorrow. Have a wonderful day. I love you.

I pushed send, and that was when I noticed that my battery was at twenty percent. So I climbed up the stairs and spotted my charger on the desk. After plugging it in, I sat back in the chair and studied my lines. I heard someone talking outside, and then there was a knock at the door.

“Yeah. Come on in.”

Heather was standing in the doorway. Yesterday was the first time I’d seen her since she’d tried to proposition me in this very trailer. This time, she had a yellow dress on, no trench coat for her to hide—no sultry surprises.

“Good morning, Heather. What do you want?”

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t know,
Can
we?” I shot back, sarcasm licking over my words.

Yeah, I was being a dick. But, after the stunt she’d pulled, I simply didn’t have time for her theatrics. I just wanted to wrap this movie and be done.

“Ronan,” she sighed. “I suppose I deserve the hostile attitude you’re giving me. But I came to apologize to you.”

“Well, that’s a change of pace. Have a seat.” I nodded towards the sofa. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or water?”

“Sparkling water would be nice. Thank you.”

“Now,” I said, handing her the glass of water, “what did you come to apologize for?”

Heather leaned forward, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked pale and thin. Dark shadows circled under her eyes. Shaky hands lifted the glass to her lips. After taking a drink, she stood. She was beginning to have me concerned, which annoyed me. I didn’t have time for her drama and damsel-in-distress act.

“Heather, what is it?”

“Okay. Here it goes…I’ll just come out with it. I was never pregnant with your baby.”

Wait what? Did I hear that correctly? Not my baby?

“What did you just say to me?”

Pacing in a small circle, she began nervously twisting the glass in her hands. Then she repeated the words, which sent a rush of blood to my ears.

“This is hard for me to admit, but I need you to understand something.”

My shoulders tensed, and blood surged in my veins. I wanted to yell at her, curse at her for lying to me. “Understand? Well, Heather, by all means, please continue. Make me understand why you lied to me—about a baby.”

Heather spun back around, tears welling in her eyes.

Fuck!
Like most men, I couldn’t stand seeing women cry. I stood, slowly approaching her. She backed away, and the tears slid down her cheeks. Then came the sobbing.

Jesus Christ!
My voice was soft and mindful. “Hey,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You obviously have some heavy things weighing on your mind. Why don’t you take a few moments to gather yourself and then we’ll talk.”

When she glanced at me in surprise, a soft smile crossed her lips. Clearing her throat, Heather wiped her tear-stained cheeks, and I nodded towards the bathroom. She returned a few moments later, still sniffling and wide-eyed. I’d seen this behavior from her before, and I was pretty positive she’d snorted some cocaine in my fucking bathroom.

“Talk to me,” I said, handing her a fresh glass of sparkling water.

“Okay…Uhmmm…sorry.” She touched her nose repeatedly.

Yeah, she’s high.

“It’s just that I…I have been going through a tough time lately and …well, I need help.”

“Yeah, you look like you need help. You’re high right now, aren’t you? And I bet a million dollars, if I took a look in your handbag, I’d find coke and I’m guessing a flask filled with Grey Goose.”

Yesterday, she’d seemed well. Shooting had been a breeze, and neither of us had had trouble with our lines. I wondered if today would be a different story. She needed to pull herself together.

Crossing her arms, she snapped, “Don’t judge me.”

“Not judging you sweetheart. Stating the obvious.”

“Look, Ronan, I came here this morning to tell you that I’d lied about being pregnant with your baby.”

“So, whose baby was it?”

“I was never pregnant.” She swallowed, shaking her head. “There was
no
baby.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, and I rubbed at my forehead. “But the doctor confirmed a miscarriage, and there was so much blood. You were in such physical turmoil.”

“You poor, delusional man,” she laughed, toying with her necklace. “It’s called acting, and this is fucking Hollywood.” Her arms flew around as if she were conducting a symphony. “Do you really think it was hard for me to find a doctor and pay him to fix a pregnancy test and then confirm a miscarriage? And you can easily obtain pig’s blood. Money buys everything in this town. But in my case, I just turned on the fuck-me eyes and seduced a gorgeous props manager into making me concoction of fake blood.”

I glared at her. “Terrific. So you cheated on me and faked a pregnancy.”

She kept talking. I could see her lips moving, but the lies she’d admitted hindered my ability to understand the words. For months of my life, I’d thought about a child whose life had been stolen too soon. Only to find out it had all been a manipulation—a deceitful lie. Strangling her was not an option, so I’d have to settle for the truth.

“Why did you lie to me about the baby?”

She sucked in a breath and looked me up and down. “I lied in hopes that you would stay with me. I felt you slipping away, and I was insanely in love with you.”

“Terrible fucking excuse,” I shot back, my fingers curling into my palms. “Try again.”

“I was afraid. I didn’t know if I’d survive being alone. Being with you made me feel better. Your love made me feel better.”

“Not to be cruel, Heather, but it was the drugs that made you feel better. The alcohol made you feel better. It wasn’t me. We were not in love. Why can’t you understand that?”

Tears formed in her eyes. “How can you say you didn’t love me?”

“Easy. Like this: I didn’t love you. I cared about you, and when you were sober, you were a blast. But you and I both know our relationship was purely a PR maneuver. To. Sell. Movies.”

She flinched. “You were my anchor, my rock. Back then, yes, I was drinking and taking pills regularly. I was stressed and crazed out of my mind from all the pressure.”

“Back then?” I huffed, pointing to my nose. “Yeah, and I did a bang-up job of keeping you from being swept away. You didn’t want me to leave because who would carry your drunken ass to bed? All of your boozing and pill popping were like an iron anchor weighing
me
down. I was your babysitter, not your boyfriend.”

More tears fell, and she stood there saying nothing. So I sipped my coffee.

Then I blurted out, “Do you feel better, having gotten all of that off your chest?” Which interrupted the annoying river of tears cascading down her face.

Wiping her cheeks, she replied, “Yes and no. I am glad I told you the truth, but I feel horrible that I lied to you. You were nothing but nice to me, Ronan, and I was a mess. I was so mad at you for dumping me. I lied to Grady and told him you were the one who got me hooked on booze and pills. I wanted to ruin your life. That’s why I fed Grady lies. I knew you two were enemies and he would see nothing but red.”

I felt like a priest. This was one hell of a confessional.

“That’s coldhearted, Heather.”

She hung her head. “I know, and I am overwhelmed with guilt.”

“You know you basically set in motion the downfall of Grady’s career and reputation with these lies. Thankfully, he’s been able to bounce back, for the most part.”

“I am fully aware. He was first on my apology tour.”

“Heather, as nice as apologies are”—I lifted an eyebrow—“and warranted, I really think you need to consider getting some help. True help. Not the kind where you half-ass it, either. The full sixty days.”

She nodded, tugging at the hem of her dress. “I will. I promise. I’m really sorry, Ronan. I do plan to turn my life around. Grady is helping me to do that.” She came towards me, giving me a hug.

“I believe that you will.”

Then she left my trailer, and I watched her cross the lot to hair and makeup. I truly hoped she would find peace and get the help she needed.

My iPhone vibrated on my desktop.

HOLLIDAY:
Good morning, handsome. I love you. Kick ass today. I’m counting the hours until I see you tomorrow. I won’t be able to think of anything else.

I knew that feeling all too well.

Emma and Dax had dropped Leah and Jade off before dinner and then headed out to attend an event for a special Flashback Friday screening of
Time Bomb
at the New York Theater Society. After an exhausting day, I put the girls to bed. It was nearly eight in the evening when I decided to put the kettle on to make some tea. My phone vibrated with a message from Dean letting me know that he was on his way up. I shoved my phone in my pocket and met Dean outside the door to my study.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my mind fearing the worst. “Is Holliday okay?”

“She’s fine.” He smiled. “This is regarding another matter.”

“Should I pour a strong drink?”

Ignoring my question, he went straight to business. “It seems that Derek Saunders has been taken into custody. Apparently, the FBI received a tip and they swept his home in Los Angeles, finding substantial evidence to bring him up on charges.”

My eyebrows rose. “Really?” I asked, my mind swirling with questions. “What are the offenses?”

“Prostitution and conspiracy to commit extortion,” he said. “They may have found illegal substances in his residence here in the city as well.”

After all of my scheming and the pain I’d put Holliday through, it seemed that karma had intervened in the end.

He handed me a manila envelope containing a file on Holliday, several pictures, and a zip drive. A note in red ink said:
Originals. All Copies Have Been Destroyed.