Hollywood Nights (10 page)

“Just coffee. I’m not hungry.”

Martha nodded and turned on the coffeemaker. “How would you like your coffee, Brynn?”

“Cream, no sugar.” I sat down in one of the barstools as Martha busied herself fixing a small pot. Tanner crossed the kitchen and took a seat beside me.

“Have you considered any more what we talked about?” he said in a low voice. “The arrangement?”

I nodded and pursed my lips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it last night. Kept waking up. My mind wouldn’t shut off.”

“I had a great time with you this weekend, Brynn.” He glanced at Martha, who had returned to the sink while the coffee brewed. She flipped on the faucet and grabbed a scrubbing brush. Tanner’s attention floated back to me, and his gaze locked with mine. “I’d like this to continue.”

“Me, too,” I said after a pause. “I want to stay. I want to try this.”

“Good.” Tanner drank the rest of his smoothie. “You ready?”

I swallowed. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“We’ll take the coffee to go, Martha,” Tanner said. “And I’ll drive.”

Lewis Hawes, Tanner’s attorney, had an office on Wilshire in a building with fifteen floors and a sweeping view of the city. Tanner and I didn’t talk on the drive over, and we rode the elevator to the top floor in silence, too. In the lobby of Lewis’s office, an overweight woman wearing a long blue skirt and thick glasses fawned over Tanner, treating him like he was Prince William on a rare visit to the US. She sneered at me and didn’t ask my name. I had to ask her three times for a glass of water.

“I’ll admit, this is unusual,” Lewis said, after the woman showed us into his wide corner office. He shook my hand, then Tanner’s, and motioned for us to sit down in the two black leathers seats next to his desk. “But I guess I’ve come to expect that from you, Mr. Vance.”

Tanner waved his hand. “You know me.”

“At your request, I’ve drawn up a simple NDA and contract.” Lewis shuffled through a stack of file folders on the desk in front of him.

I glanced at Tanner.

“What are the terms?” I asked.

“This NDA will prevent you from sharing proprietary information about the relationship between the two of you, and stop either of you from capitalizing on it, once it ends, for a period of five years from the date of breakup.” He handed both of us a sheet of paper. “Simple. Standard.” He took two thicker packets of paper from the folder. “This contract outlines basic details. Mr. Vance will pay five hundred thousand dollars to Ms. Price at the end of six months, or when the relationship ends, whichever one comes last, provided that Ms. Price fulfills all duties of this agreement, including but not limited to a convincing relationship that provides satisfactory public relations results for both parties.”

Tanner touched my forearm. “Satisfactory meaning… it changes the—er—national conversation about me.”

“Like I can control that.”

Tanner blanched. “What I mean is—”

“You’ll get what you’re paying for,” I said. “At least, I’ll do the best I can.”

Lewis pressed onward. “Mr. Vance also agrees to provide all food, housing, clothing, and other needs to Ms. Price for the duration of this agreement, and agrees Ms. Price is not required to provide anything in return, such as anything of a—ahem—sexual nature.” He handed us the contract, then produced one thinner sheet of paper and the final paperwork. “All we need is your signatures in the areas of these documents marked with the blue label.” Lewis glanced at each of us. “Any questions?”

I gulped as I peered at the documents and the endless lines of legalese. “I need to read over this before I sign it.”

“Of course, Ms. Price. We have a private conference room across the hallway, and you’re welcome to have these documents reviewed by your own legal counsel.”

“Give me a few minutes,” I said, as the three of us stood from our chairs.

Safely alone inside the conference room, I sat down at the circular table and read the first few pages of the documents. All three agreements had less than fifteen total pages, but as I read over them, my stomach lurched and twisted. Up until that moment, Tanner’s entire proposal hadn’t been a reality. It was a dream but not necessarily a fantasy, more like something that hadn’t been happening to a girl like me.

Once I signed my name, there would be no going back. I wouldn’t be Brynn Price, the down-and-out struggling actress who had to moonlight at a strip club in order to pay rent. I would be Brynn Price, Hollywood-girlfriend-and-struggling-actress who dangled off the arm of Tinseltown’s hottest and most misunderstood hunk.

“Would that be so bad?” I said to myself as I flipped through the pages. The legal mumbo jumbo danced and taunted me.

Truth: I liked Tanner. Well, what little I knew about him, I liked.

I already saw parts of him that could be gregarious and kind. Sometimes, when I looked at him, I caught a whisper of something inside that reminded me of a wounded puppy dog. Most of his antics, and the way people perceived him, had to be for show. The man I saw didn’t seem happy with himself, and didn’t seem okay with a lifestyle centered on parties. Even the incident with Heather had proven that point; he’d seemed too embarrassed when she appeared.

More, sometimes Tanner seemed…
trapped
. Hollywood might have given him a lot, but it took from him, too.

I read through the documents twice, and didn’t notice anything that seemed strange or unexpected. I knew I could have my own attorney read over it, but it would take more time than I wanted. This was my best chance at the one thing I needed: quick cash. I’d have to settle for my own gut feelings about Tanner Vance and his motives. Besides, I had almost nothing else to lose.

After finding a black pen on the conference room table, I signed every page.

“Wasn’t as hard as it seemed, was it?” Tanner said as we got into the elevator to ride back down the fifteen floors and to the parking garage. The door closed and locked us in the small car.

“I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said.

Tanner punched the button and the car shifted into gear. “Me either, but I have a good feeling about it. Things are going to work out for both of us.”

“You think so?” My mind went back over what we’d done. With one signature, I’d agreed to become this man’s girlfriend-for-hire.

What a day.

The car stopped on the eighth floor so that a large man and his young daughter could get inside. To give them space, I moved closer to Tanner and the back of the elevator. When I did, I got a whiff of Tanner’s cologne—musky and raw. I liked it. A lot.

“Aren’t you famous?” the girl asked Tanner between the sixth and fifth floors. “I think I’ve seen you before.”

Tanner grinned and her father hushed her. “That’s not nice, honey,” the man said. “Leave the man alone.”

“It’s all right,” Tanner said to him. “I’m used to it. And yes, sweetie, I’m Tanner Vance.”

“You are?” The girl’s eyes widened, and she pointed at me. “Is she your wife?”

Tanner took my hand. “My girlfriend. This is my girlfriend, Brynn.”

I looked down at our joined hands, and a shiver raced up my spine.

A
fter we signed the contracts, I drove us back to the house. We didn’t say much, and truth be told, I couldn’t think of a way to begin a conversation. We’d done something seriously permanent. She’d agreed be my girlfriend, and to sell the appearance of her love for a high price.

All for the sake of my precious, precarious career.

Not romantic. Those days, romance couldn’t have been further from my mind. I had to admit it; this wasn’t how I’d envisioned it would go when I was younger. I hadn’t thought about marriage much, but I had supposed when the time arrived, I’d fall in love with someone who’d take me to another level, a person who would make every cell in my body shudder with electricity, and a person I wouldn’t want to live without.

But duty called. And fame.

“I have a few meetings this afternoon with my team,” I told Brynn as I drove my Acura up the driveway. I parked the car in front of the garage. “Will you be okay here alone?”

“Of course.”

“I might be back for dinner, but I don’t know. I’ll text you. Depends on what happens after the meetings.”

“Do you need me to take care of anything while you’re gone?”

“No, and I’ll have a check for you when I get back, unless you want to give me your bank account number so I can make a deposit. Just to cover any of your immediate expenses, of course.”

“A check sounds fine.”

I smiled my approval. “And by the way, today is Monday, so Roberta and Craig come by mid-afternoon to clean the house. They’re married, and it usually takes them about three hours. So don’t be shocked if you run into them.”

I had to laugh inside myself. Here we sat, sounding so typical, so
usual
, like one of those couples in a commercial for dishwashing liquid. God, it had been so long since I had done anything normal. If I allowed myself to, I might get used to it.

After saying good-bye, Brynn got out of the car and walked inside the pool house. I watched her until she disappeared behind the front door, admiring her ass as she went. She had a good one—rounded, perky, and like the rest of her, not trying too hard. I wondered what it would look like naked in my bed, along with the rest of her; I thought about how it complemented her beautiful face and then, what that face would look like when I kissed it, her breasts, and the apex of her thighs…

I pushed all of my desires aside. I had things to do and problems to fix. And that started with lunch in West Hollywood.

“I have to admit, old sport, I was surprised.” Kenneth ate a huge bite of his cucumber, spinach, avocado, and salmon salad. We sat at a patio table, having lunch at The Ranch
,
a farm-to-table restaurant on Robertson where people ate with the sole purpose of being seen by the paparazzi. Around us, people buzzed and tittered, trying to make sure the photographers saw them, but also trying not to make it obvious. “She’s not your usual type, and the media is eating this up.”

“Everyone loves a good romance.” I glanced at the rest of the crowd in the restaurant. “Everyone.”

“True.” Kenneth tapped his fingers on the table. “But I don’t know how a rebound relationship with a no-name is going to get the job done here when it comes to rehabbing this image of yours.”

As if Kenneth had any idea about rebound relationships. He’d been with Tony, a car dealer from Anaheim, for the last ten years. He never so much as looked at another man.

“You gotta trust me,” I said. “I know what I’m doing.”

I was Kenneth’s favorite client, or at least, that was what he liked to say around me. He certainly made a lot of money off me each year, and I didn’t let him forget it. We met years earlier, in the gifting suite at an awards luncheon a few months after my career started simmering from my role on the show
Regent
. I’d been drunk and almost falling down; he showed his worth by distracting a few journalists who saw a little bit too much. I hired him that afternoon and after two years, he admitted to me during a tennis game at The Beverly Hills Country Club that I was the first client for the public relations firm he owned. He often said he’d give me his kidney if I needed it; he had a sense of loyalty in a town full of people who didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Well, at any rate, this new conquest of yours appears young.” Kenneth brushed the lapel of his green velvet blazer, a favorite from his endless collection. “Can’t ever keep this one clean.” He raised one eyebrow. “Anyway. Back to the girl. What’s her name? Corrine?”

“Brynn. Brynn Price.”

Kenneth mouthed the name back to me. “Not bad. Easy enough to remember, and she has one thing going for her.” He paused. “She’s not Lana.”

“She sure isn’t,” I said. “And she’s been a welcome distraction from my wreck of a life.”

“Good in bed?”

I smiled. “Yes. Good in bed.”

For this to work, Kenneth had to buy into it. He had to think I had more than a passing attraction to Brynn, because he had a hard time selling lies. That was part of the reason why things had gone so badly for me during the last few months. Kenneth did a great job selling the good stories, but he didn’t have a flair for manufacturing a good story when there wasn’t one. He needed to believe.