Untangling The Stars (27 page)

“How about that coffee?” she asked Madeline, forcing herself not to sound weepy.

“Yes, there’s a private waiting room down at the end of the hall where we can talk. Or would you care to get something to eat?”

“I’m fine. Just some coffee would be great.”

They walked silently down the hallway. Just off to the left at the end was a door marked Private. Madeline pulled out a card and swiped the magnetic strip. The door clicked and Andie followed her into a small but comfortable-looking lounge. There was a couch, a couple of recliners, table, and chairs. In the corner was a cot with fresh linen and a pillow folded on the end. On the far side was a little kitchenette. A large flat screen was playing CNN Headline news but there were several DVDs available as well.

Andie picked up the remote and muted the television as Madeline went to the coffee maker on the counter. It looked like a fresh pot had just been brewed and there were actual mugs and a sugar bowl on the counter.

“Just black, thanks,” Andie said as Madeline poured. She settled on the end of the couch and set the mug of steaming coffee on the table in front of her. The place might look like a cheap knockoff of Scott’s cozy café, but there was no way she was getting her hopes up for anything even close to Scott’s chai.

Madeline chose the recliner, sipped her coffee, and then too set it down.

“So what happened?” Andie asked. “Fill me in.”

Andie thought for just a second she saw a wave of genuine upset pass over Madeline’s hard-lined face. She sighed. “Guy has had an extremely difficult past few days. He…well, Andie I need to trust that everything I’m about to say is in the strictest of confidence. I won’t ask you to sign a disclosure.”

“Of course it is,” Andie said, slightly insulted. “Do you think I dropped everything to get the scoop for TMZ?”

“No, no, I don’t. I’m sorry, but it’s my job to make sure that he is, well, protected.”

“How many times do I have to ask what the hell happened?” Andie was losing her patience and she wanted answers now.

“I don’t know all the details of what went on with you two,” Madeline admitted, picking up her mug again and taking a sip. “But after a text or two in which you indicated that you didn’t want to see Guy anymore, he, well to say the very least, he took it very badly.” Andie thought about correcting her on that point—she had just asked for a break, damn it, to get everything under control—but since Madeline was maybe finally getting to an explanation, she decided to bite her tongue and let her continue. Madeline looked to her, but Andie offered no reaction, visible or verbal.

“He started drinking, heavily, immediately afterward and quickly let his temper and poorer judgment take control. Andie, Guy is extremely talented, as you know. He has the looks, and he has the role that has defined him and helped mature him into, well, into the star he is today. But he has his flaws. He is still young and immature, and the transition has not been easy on him. His life changed very quickly when he became Silas Dove and the sudden money and fame made him more difficult to control.”

“Control?” Andie asked, sarcastically. “Is he supposed to be a trained work dog?”

“I know that may be a poor choice of words, Andie, and I don’t really expect you to completely understand this world, but yes, control is accurate. Besides being charming, handsome, and talented, Guy is impulsive, quick-tempered, and reckless at times. Especially when he drinks. He has never done drugs to my knowledge and certainly not while I’ve been his manager, but it is not always drugs that ruin a career. Reckless, hateful tirades caught on camera, fighting in clubs or on sets, being unprepared for scenes, or just not even showing up ruins careers. There’s a lot of ways to get bad press—and yes, there is such a thing as
bad
press.”

Andie listened and she knew that Madeline was right. She had seen glimpses into Guy’s dark side herself—his quick to anger temper, flashing eyes. It had given her pause, though those moments paled in comparison to those when he was softer, more tender and affectionate. After a while, the bad boy image would shy away directors and producers, too. Time and money would not be invested in anyone, no matter how good and popular they were, if they were untrustworthy to keep it together and get the job done. Hell, there were half a dozen former celebrities whose names had been scratched from the A-list. Even the fans would become disappointed and fade away, latching on to the next new chiseled jaw and magnetic eyes.

“After a couple of days, Guy still had not started to sober up and pull himself together. He remained angry and belligerent. He reached that very dangerous stage where he believed that his career was untouchable—either that or he simply didn’t care anymore. Neither is never true, Andie. I tried to talk to him, but it was pointless. After two days of scenes being canceled because he was either too late and the studio time had run out, or he was drunk and unprepared, the director had begun to reach his limit. The truth is Guy’s behavior does affect a lot of people and their jobs and paychecks as well, but he didn’t care. We tried to cover it up, play up the angle that he was partying with his co-star, but then he showed up drunk again, yelling at the director, daring him to find another ‘Silas Dove’ because he didn’t give a damn and was sick of the part. He strutted around like a toddler having a tantrum and kicked over two camera sets. The director intervened, first just trying to restrain him, but Guy cold-cocked him and the fight ensued. My people were able to stop it as quickly as they could, but Guy fell and hit his head fairly hard. He has a mild concussion and, of course, his blood alcohol was extremely high—almost to the point of alcohol poisoning. The doctor suggested he stay for a day or two for observation and to, well, dry out a little.”

Madeleine paused and Andie busied her shaking hands by picking up her coffee. Somehow, she didn’t feel very surprised by what Madeline had said. Guy was pretty transparent and his quick disgust of his status quo was obvious. But, she also knew more than Madeline. Guy’s acting out was not just about her pushing away from him. He was already losing himself and on the verge of catastrophe when she met him. He had come to the university searching for something, though she still didn’t know what. It wasn’t her; she’d just been something he found along the way. No, it was something else. Maybe she’d pushed him over the edge. People would probably say that, and Madeline might even think it now and blame her. But Andie was a firm believer in taking responsibility for one’s own actions. Whatever Guy brought on himself was his choice.

“I hope you haven’t asked me to come here and tell him I’m sorry and it’s all my fault. Because if you have, then you have wasted both of our times, and you are going to be disappointed.”

“Actually, that wasn’t the reason. I asked you to come here because I think you honestly care for him, and clearly, he cares about you. Perhaps I was wrong about you, I don’t really know, but what I told you in Denver was true. Yes, people rely on Guy to pay their bills; yes, I count on income from his success as well. You can turn your nose up at that, but it’s business. You don’t know me that well either, Dr. Foxglove. I care about Guy, too. I’ve seen him struggle and fight, and land in the spotlight. I’ve spent a lot of time with Guy, not Silas Dove, and I know him to be extraordinarily kind in both his time and resources. I also know he loves what he does, no matter how he feels this second. When he is in front of that camera, you can see the fire that lights up in him. He glows.” Andie noticed Madeline’s eyes shining like glass. She looked up at Andie and there was no business in her eyes, no catch. There was a flesh and blood woman in there after all. “I don’t want to see that fire burn out, Andie. He needs help. I asked you to come here and see him. I think of all people, you are the one who can reach him.”

“Does he still have a job?” Andie asked. She knew he might ask her, and she wanted to be able to tell him the whole truth.

“Yes…but it is tenuous. Very. He will be asked to pay for all the damage, naturally. I’m sure the director will request an apology. I think the incident has been contained, so he won’t be hurt publicly. If it leaks, well, as long as he continues being Silas Dove, the gossip and rumor mills will embrace his dark side, disappear fast, and move on. But, I absolutely guarantee, the director, producer, and pretty much everyone else involved is at their end. I know from my sources they are scouting out new possibilities. I expected that. He can save his career, Andie, but he has to do it now.”

“I understand,” Andie said quietly. “And I think I have an idea.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Andie stirred in her chair. Rubbing the aching spot of her neck that had been laying over on her shoulder for too long, she opened her eyes to find Guy’s steely blue eyes staring back her. She pulled her chair to the side of the bed and gazed back into the face that always melted her insides and made her catch her breath. The bruises and scratches didn’t change the effect Guy had on her. Even pillow hair suited him as that one lock still fell characteristically across his forehead.

“Hi.” Before she had fallen asleep, Andie had tried to formulate her approach to this conversation that was about to happen—tried to plan for it, if that were possible. After playing several different scenarios that ranged from lecturing to mothering to sympathizing, she couldn’t decide on any good one and fell asleep, apparently while trying to come up with the next plan. She still had nothing.

“Hi,” he answered back after a minute or two of quiet had passed. He looked away, grimacing a little as he shifted uncomfortably in bed.

“Are you in pain? Do you want me to get your nurse? Andie asked, concerned.

“I’m good.”

“Yeah, you look like a million bucks.”

He looked out of her from the sides of her eyes and smirked a little. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a craving for a real Brooklyn thin cheese slice. Heard you were in the neighborhood, sort of.” She slid her hand under his, and he let her. She gave it an ever so slight squeeze. “Madeline called me.” It was almost a whisper.

Guy grunted and shook his head. “Well, she shouldn’t have done that, and you didn’t need to come here.” He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms across his chest. Andie knew he was probably embarrassed—his ego was bruised right along with the rest of him—but that was the least of his problems, and she needed him to get over those little things—and quickly, so they could move on the heart of the matter, namely his career and future.

“If I thought I
had
to come here, I wouldn’t have. The Mad Man is not
my
manager.”

“Then why are you here? This isn’t really space now is it?” His words stung. He was still being sullen, but all Andie felt was pity. She knew it was his hurt talking, not the real Guy.

“Guy.” She reached across and put her hand lightly on his folded arm. “I came here because I care about you. I don’t care about the cameras, or the paparazzi, or the tabloid headlines. I care about
you
. If people don’t have their own lives and want to be wrapped up in mine…or ours,” he looked at her when she said that, “then…whatever.”

“It gets so old, Andie.” He was softening now. “I know I wanted this, and a hundred people would trade places with me right now and a thousand more are trying to get here….” The words trailed off.

“Where? In the hospital, with a mild concussion? I don’t really think so, Guy.”

He laughed. That deep, throaty laugh that made her all warm and tingly on the inside. When he laughed and smiled, his eyes lit up, and his perfectly carved mouth revealed his straight teeth, and she just wanted to touch those lips with hers and feel him, taste him.

“You know what I mean.” Finally, he placed his hand on top of hers.

“I do. Really, I haven’t lived it, but I do understand, Guy. I’m sorry I didn’t before. What do you want, Guy—really
want
?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “I want it all. I want to be in front of the camera doing what I feel I was born to do, and then I want to clock out at the end of the day like everyone else does and go home. Take my wife and kids to the park or a movie. Walk my dog around the neighborhood. Maybe teach a class or two and help people who want to make it and do what I do. I can’t just take—I have to give back, too.”

Like a thunderbolt, it hit Andie:
that’s
why Guy had been at the university. It all made sense now. He was from Alaska so Colorado would seem a little like home with its snow and mountains. He wanted to talk to someone about teaching, and her classroom was right next to the drama department. “That’s why you were at my university.”

“Yes and no. The truth is, I’ve never been to college. I skipped town for Hollywood right after high school. I tried some classes, but between auditions, waiting tables, driving cabs, doing every spare job I could get to survive, I just didn’t have the time. I’ve loved Colorado ever since I first stepped foot in it. The mountains remind me of home and I take off to ski and hike there as much as I can. I thought maybe while I was there, in between seasons of the show or whatever is next, I could take some classes and maybe mentor some students.”