Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) (23 page)

Lauren hurried over, pushed the coffee table out of the way, and knelt. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me see,” Lauren repeated and gently pushed her hands away.

Grace let go of her leg and leaned forward to inspect the damage too.

Their heads hovered inches from each other, so close as if they were about to kiss. Now it was Lauren’s turn to flush. She quickly inspected Grace’s shin, trying to ignore the smooth skin under her fingers. “It’s perfect. Uh, I mean, it doesn’t look as if you hurt yourself.”

Grace leaned back. “Thank you.”

Was she thanking Lauren for checking her leg for injuries or for the involuntary compliment? Lauren couldn’t figure her out.

“You’re right,” Grace said, her voice so low that Lauren had to strain to hear. “I am angry and hurt. I mean, I knew he had a new girlfriend, but I thought it wasn’t very serious between them, just a rebound fling or something. But, no, he wants to marry her and have the 2.5 kids, the dog, and the white picket fence.” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s just my Hollywood ego, but it’s really a slap in the face that he’d get over me so fast.”

Marry her? Wow.
Lauren didn’t know what to say to that. She certainly didn’t understand it either. If she were involved with a woman like Grace and their relationship ended, she wouldn’t get over it anytime soon. Belatedly letting go of Grace’s leg, she got up and settled on the other edge of the couch. She picked up Betty the lynx and put her on the cushion between them.
Need a chaperone, Lauren Pearce?

“But then again,” Grace continued, “I’m the one who filed for divorce, so I can’t blame him for finding someone else. I just wish he’d have waited a little longer. It makes me wonder if what we had was ever real or just one of these Hollywood illusions.”

“Was it real for you?”

Grace opened her mouth, and Lauren knew her well enough by now to see that she was about to give her a stock answer.

“Not the
Entertainment Tonight
answer, please.” She wasn’t asking because she needed to know as Grace’s publicist; she was genuinely interested in the answer.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. There was a time in my life when I thought I was really in love with him, but…” Grace picked a piece of lint off Betty’s fluffy tail. “Despite everything that’s going on now, Nick is a decent guy. I loved his sense of humor from the start. But looking back, I’m not sure I was ever head over heels for him. Maybe I just confused caring for him with being in love with him.”

Huh.
Lauren wondered how that could happen. She had never fooled herself into thinking she was in love when she wasn’t.

“He just seemed to fit into my life so well,” Grace said as if guessing Lauren’s thoughts and trying to explain. “He understood my career; he was busy with his own, and my mother loved me being with him. She still hopes that we’ll reconcile.”

Oh, yeah. Trust me, I noticed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Grace said quickly, “that’s not why I was with Nick, but when you’re in the limelight all the time, your public and your private persona can get kind of mixed up.”

Lauren had seen that more than once with her celebrity clients. That was one of the reasons why she avoided dating within the entertainment industry. It was too hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. “Maybe you should do what I’m doing.”

“Which is?” Grace quirked a smile. “Dating women?”

Laughter burst from Lauren’s throat. She tried to imagine Grace with another woman. To her surprise, the image came without effort. She tried not to dwell on the fact that Grace’s imaginary lover had the same shortish, brown hair that she had. “No. Although I can personally recommend it, I wouldn’t like it as your publicist. What I meant is staying away from Hollywood types romantically.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Not dating anyone in show business?” Grace tilted her head and regarded her with a curious gaze. “Did you get burned?”

“Oh, yeah. One of your colleagues left some third-degree burns. I dated an actress once, when I was just starting out as a publicist. Not one of my clients, mind you.”

“What did she do?” Grace asked.

The memory still left a bitter taste in her mouth. “It turned out she was more interested in being introduced to my parents than in me.”

“Ouch.” Grace looked as if she wanted to pat Lauren’s knee but then seemed to change her mind. “You can’t judge all actresses by this one flake. We’re not all like that, you know? There are some nice ones too.”

“Yeah. I’m beginning to realize that.” The more time she spent with Grace, the more she became aware of how different she was from other actresses and from her tabloid persona.

They smiled at each other.

“Still, I think I’ll stick to my rules,” Lauren said, partly so Grace wouldn’t think she was interested in her.
Which you, of course, aren’t.
She suppressed a snort.
Yeah, right.

They sat in companionable silence until Grace sighed. “I’d better go. I see you’re still working.” She gestured at the laptop that sat open on the coffee table but made no move to get up. Slumped against the back of the couch, she looked as if she was running out of steam, emotionally exhausted from the events of the day.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t working. I was…”

“Yes?”

Lauren wanted to slap herself for almost telling Grace that she’d been trying to write. “Uh, just looking at some stuff.”

A teasing smile darted across Grace’s face. “Stuff. I see.”

Great. Now she probably thinks I was looking at porn or something.
Her cheeks warming, she idly trailed her fingertips across the trackpad.

The screen came to life.

Lauren quickly closed the laptop before Grace could see what she’d really been doing.

But Grace had already seen. “Oh, you’re reading a script for a client? Excuse me, but that counts as work in my book.” She regarded Lauren with a shake of her head. “You really shouldn’t work so much, you know? After all, where would it leave me if my publicist had to quit because of burnout?”

“I wasn’t working, really,” Lauren blurted out defensively. “That’s just my script.”

“Your script? You mean…you’re writing one?”

Lauren didn’t need a mirror to know that her face had taken on the color of Grace’s dress. Where was the confident senior account executive, the seasoned PR veteran? She tried to shrug it off. “Yeah, but—”

“Wow.” Grace’s ocean-blue eyes gleamed with interest. “What’s it about?”

Lauren looked away, pulled the laptop off the coffee table, and held it against her chest, needing the protective shield. She wanted to slap herself silly for telling Grace about the script. “Nothing interesting. It’s probably not very good. Just some way to while away the time on weekends.”

“Why don’t I believe that? You don’t seem like a person who’d do anything halfway.”

She wasn’t, but it startled her that Grace apparently knew her that well already. “I think I have the dialogue down pat, but the plot sucks, so this,” she gestured at the laptop, “will never see the light of day.”

Instead of letting the subject drop, as Lauren had hoped, Grace asked, “What’s wrong with the plot?”

“I have no idea, but I can’t get the third act to work.”

“Do you want me to read it?” Grace asked. “Maybe I can help. I mean, I must have read thousands of scripts in my life, trying to find the best roles for me.”

God, no,
Lauren almost blurted out. Just the thought of letting someone, anyone, read her script made her break out in cold sweat. It was too personal, as if she were revealing her inner self. Plus Grace was a client. Granted, she was starting to feel more like a friend. Still, Lauren hesitated.

“You don’t have to. It was just an offer,” Grace said, lightly touching Lauren’s knee. “I understand if you’d rather not. It’s pretty personal, right?”

It was. But then again, Grace had revealed things about herself that were about as personal as one could get. Was it fair to hold back? She struggled with the decision.

“It’s okay. Really,” Grace said. She glanced at her delicate golden wristwatch. “It’s getting late. I should go.” She patted Betty’s head and then got up.

Lauren hesitated for another moment. Then, before she could chicken out, she logged into her e-mail program, typed in an address, and attached the document to a new message. Inflating her lungs, she clicked the send button and then blew out a breath.
Done. No way back now.
Acid burned in her stomach, and something heavy lodged in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Grace?” she called.

Already at the door, Grace turned and smoothed her hands over her hips and down her half-bare legs in a gesture that looked entirely unconscious.

The sight of her made Lauren breathless for a different reason. “I just sent you the script.”

“You…you did? Wow. I hope you didn’t feel pressured to do that.”

Lauren shrugged and wanted to shove her hands into her pockets before realizing that she was wearing pajamas, which had no pockets. Maybe a little pressure was just what she’d needed to get over her writer’s block. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Grace said quietly, as if sensing what this meant for Lauren.

“It’s not a romantic comedy, though.”

A mild smile crossed Grace’s face. “I do read other stuff, you know?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to imply…”

“It’s okay. People know me for my rom coms. I’m fine with that.”

Was she really? Or was she secretly wishing she could shoot a movie that would challenge her acting skills but afraid to lose her audience? Lauren bit her tongue before she could ask. Now was not the time to get into that topic. For tonight, they’d had enough discussions that crossed into personal areas.

She walked over and joined Grace by the door. “Drive carefully.”

“I will. Getting home safely shouldn’t be a problem. Even the paparazzo went home after he got the shot he wanted.” Grace gave her a nod, said good night, and slipped out the door, leaving Lauren to wonder what shot that was.

Well, she’d find out tomorrow morning when she’d routinely check the gossip blogs and celebrity sites. Somehow, she had a feeling she wouldn’t like it much.

CHAPTER 16

Lauren felt a migraine coming on when she saw the name on her caller ID, even though she normally didn’t get migraines. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she lifted the phone to her ear with the other hand. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Duvenbeck?”

“I want you to stop Grace from appearing on that lesbian show!”

The pressure behind Lauren’s forehead spread to her temples. She bit back an aggrieved sigh. “What lesbian show?” She had all of Grace’s appearances in her calendar, and there was no lesbian show among them.

“That
Central Station
thing, of course! As her publicist, you should really be more aware of her schedule, Ms. Pearce.”

Lauren gritted her teeth. “It’s
Central Precinct
, Mrs. Duvenbeck, not
Central Station
,” she said as calmly as she could. “And it’s not a lesbian show. It’s a critically acclaimed crime show about a homicide detective who—”

“Who goes on a honeymoon with another woman! Didn’t you read the episode’s script?”

Lauren hadn’t. It wasn’t part of her duties as a publicist. Besides, she was working almost fourteen hours a day to coordinate campaigns for the worldwide premieres of
Ava’s Heart
. “I assume Grace did, and she was in the third-season episode that started the same-sex romance between the detective and the medical examiner, so she’s probably fine with it. Didn’t you watch that episode?” Lauren asked, smirking at being able to give back the question.

“Of course I did. Well, I saw the scenes Grace was in. But if I had seen those other scenes, I would have never allowed her to guest-star again, especially now!”

Allow her?
When would Mrs. Duvenbeck finally understand that her daughter wasn’t eight years old anymore and could make her own decisions? “It’s a little late to pull out now. She already signed the contract, and the cast is flying to Vegas tomorrow.”

“There must be something you can do. After all, we’re paying you a lot of money!”

We?
Lauren suppressed a snort. “Grace is paying me to protect her public image—and I’m doing exactly that by not telling her to break the contract.”

“Please.” Her tone of voice made it clear that she was rolling her eyes. “How is that protecting her public image?”

“Grace has a stellar reputation in this town. Every director and producer in Hollywood knows that she always fulfills her contracts without any diva drama. They know they can rely on her to show up on set on time. If she backs out now—for no good reason, I might add—she loses that reputation. Is that really what you want?”

Mrs. Duvenbeck was uncharacteristically silent for several moments.

Lauren’s throbbing head rejoiced.

“No, of course not,” Mrs. Duvenbeck said gruffly. “But if being on that lesbian show starts that whole media circus again, I’ll blame you.”

Of course you will.
Grace’s mother always found someone else to blame. “Understood.” As Lauren hung up, she made a mental note to buy season three of
Central Precinct
on her way home. She had a lesbian storyline to catch up on.

Dawn was just breaking as Grace’s driver pulled the town car to a stop in front of the terminal at LAX. Knowing the paparazzi would descend on her as soon as she got out, she suppressed a yawn.

The passenger side door of the SUV in front of them opened, and a blonde woman climbed out.

Hey, that’s Amanda!
Most of the crew and cast of
Central Precinct
would probably be on the same plane.

A tall man climbed out from behind the SUV’s wheel, walked around to Amanda, and pulled her into his arms for a tender kiss.

Grace grinned. Good to know at least one of them had some romance in her life.

They let go of each other with obvious reluctance, and he lifted Amanda’s luggage out of the SUV’s back for her. The movement stretched the fabric of his shirt across his chest—and Grace realized with a start that Amanda’s boyfriend wasn’t a boyfriend. A jolt went through her. Her co-star had been kissing another woman!

Someone cleared his throat next to her, making Grace jump. She realized that the driver was holding the door open for her—and probably had been doing so for quite some time. “Thank you,” she mumbled and climbed out.

As expected, she was immediately bathed in a meteor shower of camera flashes.

The driver lifted her carry-on and the bigger suitcase out of the trunk.

“Thanks,” she said and tipped him. “I can handle it from here.”

“Hey, Grace!” Amanda waved and squeezed past the paparazzi to join her. The SUV with her girlfriend was gone.

More flashes went off as they greeted each other with a short hug.

“Grace, look up!” one of the paparazzi called. “Over here!”

“How are you, Grace?”

“Where are you two going?”

“Looking good, ladies.”

She just kept smiling, gave them a quick wave, and tried to make it past the automatic doors into the building, but with the ring of paparazzi, fans, and curious onlookers surrounding them, it was almost impossible.

At times like this, Grace wished she had a team of bodyguards or at least an intimidating-looking personal assistant. But she didn’t want to be one of the celebrities who had a gaggle of staff around all the time.

Almost inch by inch, they made their way inside. Once they entered the terminal, more of the paparazzi practically living in the airport joined them, surrounding them from all sides. Some of them walked backward so they could keep snapping pictures as they followed them through the airport.

Security and airport employees hurried over. “Move back, guys,” one of them shouted. “Let them through.”

Reluctantly, the paparazzi stepped back but kept following them for as long as they could. Grace was grateful for the help of the airport employees, who herded them through check-in and security in record time.

With twin sighs of relief, Grace and Amanda finally dropped into plush chairs in the VIP lounge.

“Jesus.” Amanda wiped her brow. “Is it always like that?”

Grace gave her a tired smile. “Sometimes, it’s worse. Just wait a year or two. I have a feeling you’ll get there too.” Even though Amanda was beginning to be quite well-known among crime show fans, it hadn’t been that long since she’d starred only in commercials. But before too long, she probably wouldn’t be able to kiss her girlfriend good-bye in front of the terminal anymore. If the tall woman actually was her girlfriend. Dozens of questions spun through Grace’s mind, but she thought it impolite to ask about a colleague’s sexual orientation. Still, she couldn’t get over the fact that suddenly everyone she worked with seemed to turn out to be gay.
Must be something in the Hollywood air.

“What’s that grin for?” Amanda asked.

Grace put on her most innocent face. “Grin? What grin?”

Amanda gave her a look and got up. “I’m going to check out the buffet. Do you want anything?”

“A banana or an apple would be great. Thanks.”

Minutes later, Amanda returned and handed Grace an apple before setting her plate down on the small table between their chairs.

Grace eyed the plate, piled up high with a Danish pastry, two muffins, some fruit, and a bit of cheese. “Are you sure you’re an actress?”

Amanda chuckled. “Pretty sure. I just missed dinner last night and didn’t have time for breakfast either.”

Was that a blush dusting her cheeks? Grace bit her tongue and abstained from asking what had made Amanda miss two meals in a row.

As soon as the fasten-seatbelt sign turned off, Amanda started rummaging through her backpack and pulled out a slightly tattered script. The title on the cover page said “Lucky in Love,” which was the name of the episode they’d start shooting tomorrow. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. Go ahead.” Grace had already studied her lines at home. She had fewer scenes than Amanda, so it wouldn’t take long to go over them again tonight. When Amanda started studying her lines, she pulled out her laptop and opened the document Lauren had sent her. She’d been itching to read Lauren’s script for days, but this was the first time she had to herself all week.

As they flew toward Vegas, she quickly became involved in the script, following along the adventures of the two heroines in 1906. Her finger clicked the button to turn the pages faster and faster as the earthquake struck.

“Hey, that’s good.”

Amanda’s voice brought her back to the here and now. She turned her head and realized Amanda had put her script away and was reading over her shoulder. “Yes, it is. Very captivating.”

“What is it?” Amanda asked. “Your next project?”

“I wish.” As she said it, she realized it was true. The women she played never got to save themselves the way the two female main characters of Lauren’s script did; they always had to wait around for their knights in shining armor to charge in and save the day.

Amanda peered at her with a curious expression. “Why are you reading it, then? Don’t tell me you read scripts just for the fun of it.”

Grace hesitated, knowing Lauren was quite shy when it came to telling others about her writing. Although after reading the first act of the script, she really didn’t know why. The story was well written and engaging. It didn’t read like the work of someone who was just dabbling in screenwriting to while away the time on weekends.

When Amanda kept looking at her, she finally said, “A friend gave it to me. She wants a second opinion because she thinks the third act isn’t working.”

“And? Is it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t read that far yet.” Grace pressed two keys and skipped ahead to the end of the document. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned the laptop a little so that Amanda could read the last page too. The ending was, admittedly, a little dark. The two heroines had survived, but they were standing on a hill, looking down at the smoldering ruins of their once-proud city.

“Hmm. Pretty dreary ending,” Amanda said.

“I wouldn’t call it dreary. It’s historically accurate.” The need to defend Lauren’s script surprised her.

“While I’m sure that would satisfy history aficionados, most people go to the movies to be entertained and forget their own troubles for a while, not to be educated about history.”

Grace had to agree. That was the reason why her mother and George advised her not to stray from her romantic comedies. Escapist entertainment was always in high demand. “The script is entertaining. It just needs a more hopeful ending. Maybe L…the writer could show the cable cars start running again or something, just as a symbol that the city will survive.”

“Ooh, that’s good. But I think you’d need something else to balance all the destruction and the chaos in the rest of the script. How about adding a love story?”

“A love story?” Grace scratched her head. “Between who? There are no men in this script who’d make believable love interests.” In fact, the story focused mostly on the two young women’s struggle to survive, learning to overcome their class differences and their fears as they saved each other time and again.

Amanda gave her a pointed look. “I wasn’t talking about one of the men.”

“Oh.” Grace stared down at the screen. “Oooh. You mean…?”

“Why not? I read only a little bit, but the chemistry between those two just jumps off the page. Didn’t you think so?”

Grace clicked through a few pages and read bits and pieces here and there. Maybe Amanda was right. Very little was missing to make the audience believe that the two women were falling in love with each other while trying to survive the inferno. She rubbed her chin. “But wouldn’t that narrow the commercial appeal of the script?”

“Maybe,” Amanda said. “But I think it might be worth the risk. It still wouldn’t be a lesbian movie, just a movie about two women who happen to be lesbians. I’d like to think that audiences could deal with that nowadays. I mean, just look at the episode we’re about to shoot.”

“Right. I almost forgot that you and Lorena are supposed to be honeymooning in Vegas before you get involved in that case.”

“Well, Detective Halliday and Dr. Castellano, not really Lorena and I, but a lesbian storyline on a prime-time TV show is a good indication that including a little same-sex romance in a script like this,” Amanda pointed at the screen, “is a viable option. Or do you think the writer would be adamantly against having a lesbian relationship in one of her scripts?”

Grace tried to hide her grin. “No, she definitely doesn’t have anything against lesbian relationships.”

“Good.” Amanda reached for her own script again and started mouthing the words, making little gestures, as if she were already getting into character.

Grace watched her for a while. When Amanda paused at the end of a scene, she gathered her courage. “Can I ask you something?” She pitched her voice low so that the people surrounding them wouldn’t hear.

With one finger between the pages, Amanda lowered the script. Her eyes twinkled. “No, I didn’t get a boob job; yes, the scar on my shoulder really is from a camel that was co-starring with me in a commercial, and no, I didn’t sleep with any of the producers to get the lead role in
Central Precinct
.”