Two Week Turnaround (8 page)

But Maxx squared his shoulders and shook his head. “Isaac knew that if he wanted to be a star, he couldn't be attached to anyone. I made that clear to him. The studio wanted a sex symbol. Sex symbols don't have girlfriends. It was important that every woman in America believed he could walk in and pin her to the wall at any moment.”

Sofia's mouth fell open. It was true. Isaac hadn't just stopped calling her. He'd traded her for a big break.

“It was business,” Maxx added. He didn't blink as Sofia gaped at him.

“It always is,” Sofia hissed. “No matter who gets hurts, even your own daughter.”

Chapter Nine

Sofia couldn't remember how to breathe. As her father's words sunk in, the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place, revealing a picture she'd never seen before. The table had fallen silent. Sofia glanced at Isaac, then looked back at her father. If anyone had ever needed a visual example of what guilty-as-hell looked like, all they needed was a photo of those two.

She stood so fast that her chair fell over with a clatter, but she barely noticed. Suddenly there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. A few people gawked at her. Nina had the good grace to become absorbed in her cell phone. But across from her Belle followed suit, grabbing her pocketbook and pointing toward the door. At least she had a clear head—and an exit strategy.

Without another word, Sofia dashed from the room. Belle caught her at the entrance and wrapped a steadying arm around her. The unspoken message was clear—Sofia would get through this with a little help from her friends.

But Sofia didn't want to get through this. She wanted a time machine. She wanted to rewind everything that had happened in the past few days. She wanted to take her father's phone call and tell him to fuck off. More than anything she wished she'd listened to her instinct and stayed far away from the Isaac Blue train wreck.

“Sofia.” Her father called her name with the same condescending authority he employed with mischievous starlets.

But Sofia wasn't a party girl and she wasn't a spoiled brat. She was pissed, but that was understandable under the circumstances. Spinning around to face him, she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Just to be clear, it will be a cold day in hell before I do you any more favors.”

“Baby girl.” Maxx spread his hands in innocence. “It's not what you think.”

“So you didn't offer to make my boyfriend a star if he dumped me?” Sofia crossed her arms and waited for his response, certain it would be a masterpiece of half-truths. When she was six years old, her father had replaced her pet kitten with a turtle and managed to sell it as magic. The man had a gift for self-beneficial deception, but there was no way he could sweet-talk his way out of this one.

“Baby girl—”

“Don't ‘baby girl' me and don't try to smooth-talk me either. I'm not fresh off the bus from Kansas. There are no stars in my eyes blinding me to how this works,” she interrupted him. “Why the hell would you ask me to come over here and do this job if you didn't want me around Isaac?”

Maxx paused as if considering what tack to take. “Isaac was going to be a star with or without me. Anyone could see that—and you know what comes with that better than anyone. Drugs. Booze. Women. Rock bottom is a long, hard fall from the top. I made sure that you weren't collateral damage.”

“That wasn't your call to make.” She didn't know why she was arguing with him. He'd already made the call and he wasn't the type of man that saw the error of his ways often. “Tell me something. Have you ever considered that maybe Isaac might have been different if you'd given him a chance?”

“I gave him a chance. He chose the fame as I suspected he would.”

“Then why did you send me here?” Sofia wiped at the furious tears pooling in her eyes. It wasn't her MO to get this upset, and it only made her angrier that she couldn't control herself now.

“Because you deserve to be happy,” he said softly.

“I was happy! And successful, I might add.”

“As a certified workaholic. I can spot others that suffer from the same affliction.” Max pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “There's ambition and then there's ruthless ambition. You get the latter from me.”

“That's never bothered you before,” she retorted.

“Your mother walked out on me because of my job.”

“I thought she walked out on you because you were banging half of
Entertainment Today's
list of up-and-comers.” His knack for rewriting history made her want to scream, but she pushed down the rage clawing its way through her. This wasn't the time or place to let it show. Not with a dozen photographers stationed outside the entrance. She needed to get out of here with her dignity—and career—intact.

“I was faithful to your mom. My only mistress was the studio. I didn't realize what I had until she was gone and she died before I could fix things.”

“It doesn't matter. I need to go.” Sofia shouldered her purse and looked toward the exit. Belle was standing guard near the door. Once Sofia walked through it, she could put Isaac and all of this in the past.

“Yes, it does.” Maxx grabbed her arm and forced her to look him in the eyes. “I made a mistake.”

“Well, hell just froze over,” Sofia muttered, but he ignored her.

“You might not need him, but Isaac needs you.”

She jerked away from him, her anger turning to bemusement. “You're incredible. Do you know that? Isaac needs a publicist. I'm sure you can handle that.”

“I'm not asking you to stay here and fix a movie, baby girl. I can make another one. And I didn't ask you to come here to fix Isaac. I asked you to come here so that I could fix my own mistake.”

All over the world people must have felt the earth shift on its axis, Sofia thought. But it didn't mean anything to her to hear him admit he'd done something wrong. “You're about six years too late, Daddy. You betrayed my trust—both of you betrayed my trust. I guess fucking with my life was just a plot twist to you, but it was my life. It
is
my life.”

She pushed past him before he could say anymore. A few more steps and she would be out of Isaac's life for good. She'd never have to see him again except from the safety of the supermarket checkout lane, but she'd got used to seeing him splashed on magazine covers before. She could do it again.

Belle didn't say a word as Sofia reached her. Instead, she opened the door, offering her a small but reassuring smile as the flash of cameras began. Sofia stepped out and stopped. What did they say about curiosity and that damn cat? Glancing behind her, she realized her father was already gone. Of course, he would shake this off and go back to schmoozing a table of sycophants. Her gaze wandered toward the entrance to the private dining room and her breath caught in her throat.

Isaac stood, unmoving, in the doorway. His expression blank. One of the lesser known talents of actors was a fabulous poker face. He made no move to follow her and showed no sign of remorse. Sofia immediately felt stupid for insinuating that he could have been different to her father. He'd been in it for the sex and hadn't that been the plan after all? A no-strings-attached distraction from his self-destruction?

She turned away and walked past the crowd of reporters and out of his life for good.

* * *

“I need to get out of this business.” Sofia was thinking out loud. She wasn't sure Belle would have much input, but it was nice to say it to someone who wasn't in the industry. Insiders couldn't imagine walking away. They were doing life sentences without the possibility of parole. It was a sickness.

One Sofia suffered from.

“You love your job,” Belle reminded her. She wrapped an arm around Sofia's shoulders and they rode in silence for a moment.

“I did. I do,” she corrected herself. “But maybe I need a break. It's getting harder to keep perspective and since perspective is the one thing my clients need most from me, I can't afford to do that.”

“It can't be easy to think clearly around Isaac. Women who've never met him can't do it. I can't imagine what it's like for you.”

“That's just it. I
am
thinking clearly.” Sofia hesitated, uncertain she could explain this to her friend. “It's always hard to question your roots and my entire root system is in Hollywood, but it's getting easier to see that I need to trim some branches from the old family tree. Maybe pull up and replant myself altogether.”

“That's not always so easy.” Belle spoke from experience, and Sofia knew it. Her friend had endured a very public scandal when her father embezzled millions of dollars in a banking scam.

“You did it,” she pointed out. Sofia had watched with pride as her friend blew off the nasty looks and constant gossip that followed her through prep school. Her father had financially ruined several of the school's most prominent families and Belle had faced a constant barrage of gossip, even after her father's suicide.

“And now I'm marrying back into the aristocracy.” Belle laughed humorlessly. “Maybe when it comes to our families, we're all gluttons for punishment.”

Sofia couldn't help but think of her own father. She genuinely loved him even though he was often the most despicable person she knew. “I know a thing or two about turning a blind eye.”

“But that's harder to do now,” Belle guessed.

“Now that I know my father basically bribed my boyfriend to choose fame over me? Yeah, he's definitely getting a shitty Christmas gift.” It hurt less to crack jokes than to seriously consider their betrayal—or the fact that Isaac hadn't come after her.

She'd walked into this situation with open eyes and she'd still been smacked up the head with reality. The whole thing was worthy of a Hollywood plot twist. Knowing her father, he'd probably write it into a script.

The cab driver stopped in front of Belle's building and her friend leaned in to give her a quick hug. She kept it short. No doubt remembering that Sofia wasn't really the openly affectionate type.

“Will I see you again?” It was a simple question, but it was a loaded one.

“I think I need to get the hell out of London,” Sofia said apologetically. No part of her wanted to stick around here. Although she wasn't sure that returning to Los Angeles was a better alternative. “Maybe I'll find a beach and finally write my tell-all.”

“That would be a bestseller,” Belle said dryly, tucking a stray strand of golden hair behind her ear and opening the car door.

“Let's just say it's my plan B.”

Belle paused, already halfway out of the cab. “Maybe you shouldn't give up on plan A quite yet.”

Sofia watched her friend disappear into her building before she directed the driver toward her hotel. The thing was she didn't have a plan A. It had gone out the window when she kissed Isaac. Her best option was to get out of town, regroup and move on. When plans went wrong, she always went back to the beginning. The trouble was that Isaac was the beginning of all of this. So much for the best-laid plans.

* * *

Rain pounded against the roof of his trailer as Isaac tossed back another scotch. If this were a scene in a movie, it would have felt heavy-handed, as if the storm was somehow meant to reflect his inner turmoil. That was the thing about being an actor—everything felt like a setup.

Outside someone rapped on the door and he called for them to come in. Misery loved company, right?

Spencer's copper head poked inside, followed quickly by his rain-soaked body. “It's a no-go. This isn't going to let up.”

“It never lets up.” Isaac shrugged and motioned to the bottle next to him.

“Wallowing?” Spencer guessed.

Isaac had been aware of the buzz on the set as soon as he stepped foot on the lot this morning. He'd rather enjoyed the shock on people's faces that he'd shown up at all. Everyone knew that he was a first-class asshole now and they also knew that he'd made a deal with the devil himself to get his big break. It didn't fucking matter. At the end of the day, he was still headlining this film and it wasn't the first time someone had sold their soul to Arnold Maxx.

“I'm brooding,” he corrected his friend.

“Action stars don't brood. They make things happen.” It was by the far the most sensible thing the young cameraman had ever said to him.

“I don't think action is called for in this scene.” If it had been, he wouldn't have let Fia walk out the door last night. He'd fucked things up for good this time. “I should have told her.”

“Maybe,” Spencer conceded. “But who would want to admit that to someone they love?”

“Someone who was capable of love. Apparently that's one emotion that I don't know how to portray.”

“You are brooding.” Spencer took a seat on the couch and fiddled with his phone. “But why let yourself be typecast?”

“Because I'm damn good at one role and shit at others. I run from the explosions, remember? I don't come back and fix things.” Destruction was his specialty. Isaac could save the day, but when the screen faded, he hadn't changed a damn thing. Not really. He wasn't the one to deal with the fallout.

“Even if that's true, the script always calls for you to rescue the girl.”

“This girl doesn't need rescuing,” he pointed out. Fia wasn't some damsel in distress.

“Spoiler—she usually isn't. The whole point of the movie is to prove you deserve her.” Spencer leaned forward and met Isaac's eyes. “So do you deserve her?”

Isaac didn't even have to consider this. “Hell no.”

“Then we're still filming. Maybe you should try another take.” He stood to leave and stopped with his hand on the door. “I do know that you aren't going to get it right if you sit here and drink, though.”

He had a point. The villains had closed in; the bomb had been dropped. If he was going to be a hero he couldn't hang back and get wasted. But he had no right to go after her, not after what he'd done. It had been hard enough to look at his own reflection after the breakup before, and it had never really got any easier. Not until she'd walked back into his hotel room.

If this was a script that would be a turning point, and now it was time for him to make a decision. Take action or wait around. Fia was probably already on a plane to LAX. She already felt a thousand miles away. But what if she wasn't?

Isaac grabbed the bottle and carried it over to the sink. Dumping it down the drain made him feel a whole lot more courageous than drinking it. As the amber liquid swirled down the pipes, he knew exactly what this story called for. It was time for him to win back the girl at any cost—and he was just the man for the part.