“I can arrange to have Catherine fly up for a couple of nights on your next day off, if you like?”
Jesus, did he mean that to sound as sordid as it did? Catherine was one of the two models I saw casually. But we were old friends who fooled around. She wasn’t a hooker, and she wasn’t on call for me.
Sinclair, like most people in Hollywood, thought that the more famous you were, or the more famous a person you worked for was, the more power you had. And that was how people operated. But not me. I didn’t give a shit about fame or money when it came to how I treated people. People were people, no matter what their latest movie grossed.
“Hold on,” I said as I pressed the phone against my shoulder and reached a hand to the driver. “I’m Matt. Good to meet you.”
He shook my hand with a firm grip, which I appreciated. “Morning, sir. I’m Jed, and it’s my pleasure to drive you while you’re in Maine.”
I slid into the car and Jed closed the door behind me.
“I don’t need you to arrange dates for me. Thank you,” I said into the phone.
“Well, about that. I think we’re going to have to switch things around. Audrey wants to pull out of your deal early, and it’s not like we can stop her.”
Even if we could have stopped her, there was no way I would. She was doing the right thing. “She called me. I’m fine with it. She doesn’t want to split until after the premier.”
“Yeah, so by then the studio won’t give a shit. And we can hook you up with someone else pretty quickly.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew another contract girlfriend was the right thing to do for my career, but at some point I’d like a shot at living a normal life and being a thirty-year-old man—meet a new girl, flirt, fuck and repeat.
I just wanted a time out. A fistful of humanity.
I sighed. “Okay, send me some details.”
“You don’t sound so sure. You’re not going soft on me, are you? This is what you pay me for. These last eighteen months have gone well—true love has saved your soul as far as Hollywood is concerned. All being well, you’re going to be signing onto the Anthony Scott feature in the near future, which may turn out to be your first franchise. We need to be scandal free.”
“We’re not disagreeing.” I tipped my head back onto the headrest. He was right. “But things need to loosen up if I sign with Anthony Scott.” I paid Sinclair to do what I needed, which was to save my career. But at times he forgot who was in charge.
“I think it will be a lot easier for you to start working your way through Victoria’s Secret models when you’re signed on to carry a major studio franchise. But generally, if you want to stay successful, you’ll keep out of trouble.”
I wasn’t sure that I wanted to sleep with a conveyor belt of women. But Sinclair had to see that things had changed. I wasn’t about to go backward. I just wanted to take some control back in my life. I’d like to run my tongue over Lana’s collarbone, fuck her mouth, make her moan as I slid into her. I’d just like the option.
“Yeah, I learned my lesson.”
“So, I’ll send over some resumes tonight. Last night I heard Renee Bromley’s contract just came to an end, so I’ll call her people.”
I rubbed my brow. Renee Bromley? “She’s fucked every guy in Hollywood. Can’t you find me a closeted lesbian?”
“I thought you might like someone who gave you options.”
“Renee Bromley doesn’t give me options. She’s just a star fucker.”
“She’s a star. You can’t be a star fucker if you’re a star. And a relationship with her would bring you a lot of publicity.”
“Surely this is about looking reliable, bankable and scandal free. Publicity is a secondary factor.”
“But it’s still important,” Sinclair said. “It gives you double bang for your buck.”
The last thing I wanted was to repeat the Affleck/Lopez debacle. I didn’t want tabloid column inches. I wanted my franchise, success and the money and freedom that would bring me. “What about a civilian? Someone who isn’t famous.”
“No fucking way,” Sinclair boomed. “I’ll never do that again. We want a woman with as much to lose as you. We need a star on the rise with good management. Someone ambitious who understands the game.”
My whole life seemed like a game with everyone else taking a spot on the board. I might bust his balls, but the guy was the best in the business. “Okay. Point taken. Send me what you have, just not Renee.”
“Deal. But I want someone signed up before you split with Audrey. We haven’t agreed on the story yet, but you can’t be seen as weak and heartbroken. You need to move on quickly, just not so quickly you look like an asshole.”
“Got it. You better get to work.”
“I’m always working. That’s why I’m up in the middle of the night to call my favorite client on his first day on a new movie.”
I laughed. It was God knew what time in LA. I might bitch about how much I paid him, but if I got this franchise, he’d have earned his money.
“Thanks. Now, go get me my franchise.”
I pressed cancel on my phone and stared at the ocean as we continued along the coastal road toward Portland. I caught sight of a brunette beauty running on the sand. There was no way to mistake Lana’s tempting body.
It was important to me that Brian and Sinclair didn’t have even the slightest concern about me and my reliability. They didn’t understand that despite my previous mistakes, there were few actors who had the same drive to succeed that I did. I grabbed onto each rung of the ladder as soon as it came into sight and didn’t let go. I’d had a wakeup call. I wouldn’t need another.
Six
Lana
I flipped the sign to open and propped the shop door ajar with a rock I’d found on the beach last summer.
Tourists didn’t start showing up until after ten in the morning, but I always changed the sign at nine anyway. Mondays were generally slow, but it was the day I allocated to paperwork and catching up with what happened over the weekend. I employed someone to cover Saturdays and Sundays. But even if I wasn’t in the shop, I was usually designing or dealing with online orders. I’d never thought running my own business would take so much time and focus.
I lifted the floor-standing sign and carried it out onto the street.
“Hey, Lana.”
I looked up to find Mr. Butcher standing in front of me, carrying his fluffy Pomeranian lapdog. If I bumped into him and Mrs. Wells within a couple of days, I was all caught up on the gossip of not just Worthington, but the whole state.
“Good morning, Mr. Butcher. I see Posey has a new outfit.” I tugged at the collar of his Pomeranian’s coat.
“She’s got an entire new wardrobe for summer,” he said.
“She’s certainly better dressed than I am.”
“Nonsense, my lovely. Your New York style is wasted in a town like this.”