No Strings Attached (38 page)

Lindsay pouted. “I thought you were on
my
side.”

Jared reached for her, drew her into his arms, and kissed her tenderly on the neck. “Always, baby, always.” He stroked her hair, reassuringly. “But—”

“But what?” She pulled away. “You think she's better than me?”

“Of course not! Linz, listen. Every young actor in Hollywood is up for a role in
The Outsiders
. It stars seven guys—”

“And one girl,” she pointed out. “The one who'll be remembered over everyone else.”

“It has the potential to be a star-making role,” Jared conceded.

“Or the comeback role of a lifetime! No one will ever think of me as Zoe Wong again. Cherry is my Charlize in
Monster
, my Scarlett Johansson in
Lost in Translation
, my Kirsten Dunst Mary-Jane moment in
Spider-Man
. Sara, who's never done anything, cannot get that role!” In frustration, Lindsay grabbed a pillow off the Armani/Casa sofa and threw it at Jared.

Jared caught it, then caught her in his arms again. “Linz, look at me.”

She tried pulling away again, but he gripped her tightly.

“Seriously, babe, you have to hear me.”

The sun filtered down through the tinted skylights, reflecting like kaleidoscopic glints in Jared's emerald-green eyes. A girl could get lost in them trying to find his soul, Lindsay thought, if she let herself. He parted his lips, and something inside her softened. His kiss was sweet, sensual, not overpowering. It didn't have to be: Lindsay understood.

Jared had spirited her away for the weekend. His dad, Rusty, was on a business trip. The twins, Brooke and Brynn, were on a spa/shopping weekend somewhere in Santa Barbara. Glynnis, their mom, hadn't lived with them in years.

Which left the mansion on Stone Canyon Road in Bel Air empty, but for the staff. They were thrilled to see Jared, had happily placed his order for a huge bouquet of white calla lillies, had delightedly sprinkled the majestic staircase leading upstairs with a blush of rose petals.

He'd done this for her. He'd taken her for a few stolen days of luxury away from the funky—and crowded—share house in the hills, a weekend's break from her craptastic job and the ever-more-contentious roommates. Jared had been neither romantic nor sensitive when they were together the first time. Either someone had given him lessons—or, this time, the boy was just a goner for her.

Lindsay didn't want to think about the second thing. Her focus had to be on her career—that is, on
having
one. Slowly, she extracted herself from his embrace and sank into the enormous Italian leather armchair.

“Jar, I so totally appreciate what you're doing for me. The house, this weekend, it's … amazing. It's just that getting this role is imperative.”

“Why this one? Acting gigs are like buses—you miss one, the next comes along.”

“This one is here now. It could redefine me, show the world my real talent. But first, I have to eliminate—”

“Sara?” he interjected. “Give me a break, Linz. She's one of dozens of actresses in Hollywood going for this role, why obsess about her?”

“In some ways, she's exactly what they're looking for,” Lindsay explained. “Sara's as unknown as unknown gets. She's got that corn-fed, freaking Oklahoma thing down. She's tall, blond—”

“Cherry's a redhead,” Jared reminded Lindsay, “more like you. I don't think Sara has any shot at this.”

“Can we make sure of that?” she said in a whisper.

“No, we cannot. And we should not.”

Despite his unwillingness to cooperate, Jared's confidence made her feel better. More so when he reached into the bar and poured her a raspberry Stoli.

“Anyway …” Lindsay licked the rim of the glass, inhaled the flavoring, and closed her eyes. Mmmm, it was good. “Cherry Valance is a soc. I'm a soc. I can look down my nose at anyone!”

Jared grinned and settled on the wide armrest of her chair. “Yes, and that's what I love about you. But—”

“What but? No buts!” She sipped her Stoli.

“In this script, Cherry's not a typical soc. She sympathizes with the greasers, too.”

Lindsay pulled away from him. “So what are you saying?
Miss Proud-and-Pious does sympathy better than I do?”

Rhetorical much? Jared drained his scotch and soda. Wisely, he kept that thought to himself.

“I'm an actress. I can do anything. She hasn't proved she can do anything, besides win Texas beauty pageants!” Lindsay sniffed.

“Then why are you worried about her?” Jared slid into Lindsay's chair so their thighs rubbed against each other's. He put his arm around her, drew her even closer. “You know how to do this. Make the part yours. Forget Sara, and everyone else going up for it.”

She knew he was right. But she needed this role. She was running out of time—and maybe even faith in herself. A little.

If she didn't get it?

It would prove she didn't have the chops, the talent to stretch beyond being in a dumb sitcom.

It would mean her family was right: She ought to have stayed fat and barefoot in Iowa, not tried to claw her way back into the biz.

Her whole life, all she'd be remembered for was Zoe Stupid Pimply Wong. And that giggle.

If she lost to Sara? Unthinkable, the ultimate humiliation. She'd be laughed out of the share house, hooted out of the hot clubs, kicked out of her crowd, ridiculed out of Galaxy. Worst of all? She'd be pitied.

Lindsay tucked herself into Jared's chest, looked up at him with big, sad eyes. “You really think I have a chance?”

Jared refused to humor her. “Here's what I know: You are Lindsay Pierce, and what Lindsay wants, what Lindsay goes after, Lindsay gets.”

This time, she initiated the kiss. There was nothing slow or sweet about it.

It was his smile, she thought when they pulled apart, not his eyes. If you could read that smile, you'd know Jared Larson. You'd see the vulnerable boy inside the slick exterior, the insecurity and yearning behind the McSmoothy facade. She had hurt him by ignoring his letters, e-mails, gifts. She was capable of hurting him again. She didn't want to—especially not at this moment. But what did it say about her that she couldn't account for tomorrow?

“Listen, baby,” he was saying. “This weekend, we'll work on the sides, we'll do Cherry's scenes together. After we pamper ourselves with room service, massages, movies, and ultimate pleasure.”

The rose petals were meant to lead them upstairs, to Jared's posh bedroom. The twosome never made it off the armchair. Good thing it was sturdy.

Lindsay swung her leg over his, turned her body toward him. Jared encircled her; he parted her lips with his tongue, and they kissed passionately. He pulled her onto his lap, let his
hands wander under her T-shirt. “God, you're beautiful,” he whispered between caresses, soft squeezes, and more kisses.

Gently, Lindsay loved him back, lightly massaging his chest, kissing his shoulders, his neck, blowing little puffs in his ear. She knew what he liked. And what would come next.

First she unzipped him while continuing to stroke his chest, then he repaid the favor. Their caresses were practiced, familiar, and tender, his on her thighs, hers on his abs, her fingertips skimming his belly just beneath the elastic band of his briefs.

They knew each other's rhythms, and though they were sweaty, excited, and panting, they moved with deliberate, delicious slowness, each more interested in the other's pleasure than in their own. He licked her neck, she bit on his earlobe, drew little circles around his nipples, while he let his fingers travel the length of her body.

Jared was quiet in his lovemaking; Lindsay, not so much.

Would they have heard the car pull up, the door open, and the footsteps entering the room if she'd been a quieter lover?

Moot point.

Rusty Larson probably had cleared his throat loudly, maybe coughed a few times as he caught sight of their naked, entwined bodies on the Roche-Bobois double-arm chair. And Lindsay wasn't really sure how many times he'd had to shout “Jared!” before they looked up.

“Yummy! Mr. L., these garlic noodles rock!” Lindsay, slurping the tasty cellophane noodles, was beyond pumped. And the savory lunch, which also included Dungeness crabs and tiger prawns, courtesy of Rusty Larson, was really only part of the reason.

“Nice to see you enjoying yourself, Lindsay,” Jared's dad said, winking.

Someone else's dad, in someone else's mansion, walking in on his son in a compromising position with an ex-girlfriend, likely would have reacted somewhat differently than Rusty Larson had. The powerful Hollywood mogul was neither horrified, embarrassed, furious, shocked, indignant, nor bewildered. He didn't shout “How dare you?” Or “What the hell do you think you're doing?” Or worse.

Rusty Larson was bemused.

Instead of recriminations, there was a reward: lunch! And a lovely spread it was, catered by the trendily precious Crustacean of Beverly Hills, and served al fresco on the patio that overlooked the koi pond in the Larsons' Bel Air backyard.

Oh, sure, there was an obligatory exchange about the awkward situation. Jared acted chagrined. “Man, I'm so sorry you had to walk in on that.”

Rusty did the “understanding dad” thing. He chuckled, “That dorm room at Ojai isn't exactly the way to impress
Lindsay. Not very comfortable, I imagine. And you assumed you had the house to yourself. I get it. If I were you, I'd probably have done the same thing.”

That's when Lindsay got it. In some twisted alt-reality, walking in on them reaffirmed Russ's belief that Jared really was spending the summer as he'd promised, making up his courses, living in the dorm. Why else would Jared seize the opportunity to sneak back to the mansion when he believed it empty?

“By the way,” Rusty said, “I heard from your uncle the other day.”

Jared tensed. “How's it going over there in … where is he again?”

Smooth
, Lindsay thought.
Like Jared doesn't know
.

Rusty confirmed that Uncle Rob was in the Czech Republic, and likely to be there through September. “I hear the buzz is strong on his performance,” Rusty added. “Maybe this one will finally be his big break.”

“Yeah,” Jared added snidely, “an Academy Award does wonders for family relationships. Maybe you'll finally stop looking down your nose at him.”

There's no shit like family shit, thought Lindsay, as Jared and Rusty went into the same verbal tussle she'd heard years ago. Jared absolutely believed Rusty saw him as a slacker—just like his uncle—an unworthy heir who'd practically flunked
out of college. A son who needed to be taught a lesson: a tough-love summer spent at school with no credit cards.

Without planning to, by getting caught, they had just lent credence to his dad's assumption. How weirdly wonderful was that?

Indeed, Rusty was abnormally ebullient, nothing like the gruff, all-business head of the agency she saw at the office. His reddish hair was graying at the temples, he had the look of a tanned, fit, supersuccessful mogul totally down. No one would guess from his demeanor that he was at all worried about the future of Galaxy. No one who wasn't an insider.

Over forkfuls of roast lobster and shot glasses of sake, he was relaxed, expansive, confiding. “I give you credit, Son. I had my doubts you would stick school out. I figured you for a week or two before you'd start asking me to cut you a break. But I promise, you do things my way, make the best of it, it will pay off.”

If Jared snared a deal, as he'd been trying to, maybe this summer would change Russ's opinion of his son after all, Lindsay mused. And hey, if there was a little sumpin' sumpin' in it for her, so much the better!

She smiled sweetly. “Take my word for it, Mr. L., Jared's totally made the best of things.” Her hand strayed under the table, stroking Jared's thigh.

Rusty regarded her. “Jared didn't tell me you two were back together.”

“The secret's out now,” she conceded, moving her fingers beneath the hem of his shorts, drifting up his thigh, rendering him excellently silent. To his dad, she gushed about how she commuted to Ojai on the weekends, just to see him—but the “shlep” was so worth it.

Jared dropped his napkin. Purposely. In diving under the table to get it, he managed to fish around Lindsay's lap. Which is the reason she squeaked, sounding like a chipmunk, when answering Russ's question about where, exactly, she was living this summer. “With fr-friends!”

She started to laugh. The Lindsay laugh. Lightly, she smacked Jared in the head as he came back up from under the table.

“Ah, the Zoe giggle. Who could forget that?” Rusty's eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Lindsay sobered up swiftly. “Actually, Mr. L.? I'm hoping everyone will. …”

He looked at her quizzically.

She took a deep breath, ignored Jared kicking her. “I don't know if you're aware, but I'm up for Cherry in
The Outsiders
.”

“Are you?” His eyebrows arched. “That's terrific. Amanda is sending you out?”

On this subject, Lindsay could no sooner be coy than she could bluff at poker. She hammered her point: “Can you do anything to help me get the role?”

Jared warned, “Linz, don't go there …”

But Rusty chuckled. “I like a woman who just comes out with it.”

“She's not asking you to do anything underhanded,” Jared put in.

Lindsay kicked him hard now.

“I know,” his dad agreed, “but, Lindsay, you understand that I don't have any real influence over who gets the role. That's a decision made by the director, and the producers.”

“Well, can you at least tell me who else is going up for Cherry? I heard that Ashlee Simpson and Nicole Richie campaigned for it. Is that true?”