by Mel Curtis
He’d trusted her with his body, his car, his address, and his fears. He’d trusted her with those, but he couldn’t seem to trust her not to betray him. Not forever.
She shouldn’t care. It didn’t matter what he thought of her. He’d told her he wasn’t a trained life coach, that he could never follow his father’s principles. And then he’d shown up for filming and done just that. Which made her simultaneously proud and annoyed and confused. And the videos…If she hadn’t already broken it off with Blue, she might have believed someone was trying to set her up.
When it was time to film, Blue walked into his office and faced Portia, who was beautiful, composed and serene. Her hair was in a 1940s updo. Her lipstick a deep red. Skinny jeans, knee-high boots, and a navy blue top that floated over her pink, unblemished skin. She was a vision.
No wonder Portia lasted several weeks with Blue, while Maddy had been dumped after two nights.
Get a grip, Maddy. Perspective. Dreams. Poppa Bert’s albums.
“Do you remember where we met?” Blue began.
“We met at a red carpet event. You were wearing a tuxedo and asked me if I wanted a drink.” Portia’s smile was a thing of beauty.
“What was going through your mind at the time, Portia?” Blue asked in his father’s voice.
“I was wondering why no one on my staff realized I was desperate for alcohol.” Portia laughed. It was a beautiful sound, like angels.
“What do you think was going through my mind?” Blue. So stiff, apparently unaffected by angels. Or maybe he was doing a slow burn about Maddy’s supposed betrayal.
Portia blinked and fidgeted. It was the first time Maddy had seen the actress thrown.
“You might have been thinking. Oh, my God. It’s Portia Francis. I used to jerk off to her picture in high school.” Her laugh was no longer heavenly. It was bitter and human.
“Was I?”
“No.” She studied her manicure. “You’re not as crude as that.”
“What was I thinking then?”
“You were probably wondering why I was there alone and trying to work up a casual line that would get me interested in you.”
“With the goal of…”
“Sleeping with you, of course. Do you ever have any other goal when it comes to women?”
Blue’s gaze drifted to Maddy, and then quickly away. He swallowed. “So we walked over to the bar and talked over drinks. And then what?”
“You gave me your card. Our hands touched.” Portia’s smile returned. “My handlers were nervous because they were calling us inside for the event. And all I could think of was that I wanted to find a limo outside and have you touch me again.”
Maddy thought she might be sick. She’d expected Kaya’s interview to be the most painful. She was wrong. She couldn’t hate Portia. She was too nice. Too perfect.
“What would your fans have said if they saw us get into a limo together that night?”
Portia’s face stiffened with resignation. Clearly she didn’t want to be reminded of her fans and their expectations. “They would have thought I was tossing away everything I’d built for a few quick moments of pleasure. They might have thought that I was doing drugs. This is a brutal business. I’ve cultivated my image for years.” Her gaze dropped to the floor, her voice along with it. “And I still can’t get work.”
“How about you? Would you have been disappointed?”
“In myself? Hell, yes. I’m disappointed that I ever slept with you. You and I should have been friends or business associates.”
And if the viewers believed that...
Maddy resisted rolling her eyes.
Blue’s smile was rueful. “And yet you joined a club to get some kind of revenge on me. How do you think that made me feel?”
Portia squirmed. Good for Blue. “Betrayed.”
A bit of the old Blue returned. In his smile. In his deep, expressive voice. “I’m sorry about your shoes, Portia. Mr. Jiggles was my father’s dog and because of that, I can’t get rid of him.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“Portia, you need to understand that life isn’t about appearances and image,” Blue said, apparently oblivious to the irony that he focused too much on his own image. “You’ve been packaged since you were a child – styled, made-up, coiffed. It’s time the world saw the real you.”
Portia’s sky blue eyes darkened with panic. “What are you saying?”
“As your relationship coach, I’m encouraging you to try new things.” Blue’s smile urged Portia to trust. “Take risks, come out of your shell, discover yourself. We’ll start with a new hairstyle.”
“What?” The actress clutched the arms of her chair.
Blue signaled Cora to open the office door. A woman entered. She wore a black plastic apron, and carried a plastic caddy full of hair supplies, scissors, and a tiger-striped drape.
“I can’t. My fans…”
“Your fans are ready for you to grow and change. You’ve been hiding behind that hairstyle for three years, ever since your last successful role – a nurse in World War II.”
“But…But…”
Blue’s voice hardened. “You signed an agreement. Legally, you’re bound to do whatever I say to provide you with character growth so you can achieve a happy relationship.”
“I hate you,” Portia whispered. She glanced back at Cora. “I hate you, too.”
Cora stayed in the room while they cut Portia’s hair. It was the least she could do for her former best friend.
“I hate you,” Portia kept repeating.
Since Blue had left the room, Cora knew Portia was talking to her. She also knew Portia wanted to say, “I hate you, bitch.” But since Maddy kept on filming, Portia wasn’t going to get bleeped. Unlike other child stars who dressed like pole dancers and cussed like sailors to shed their goody-girl image, Portia knew the value of good will. She nurtured it until it gleamed.
Blond locks of hair littered the carpet.
Cora felt sick to her stomach. She took no pleasure from Portia’s pain, even though the actress had been the one to detonate their friendship.
I guess I’m not such a bitch, after all.
She came around the desk and sat in Blue’s chair, directly across from Portia. “You’re going to look fantastic.”
Portia pressed her lips together.
The stylist cut Portia’s hair to shoulder length, curled it loosely, and held the individual curls with pomade. Portia looked less like an untouchable starlet from the past and more like someone you’d want to be friends with.
Cora almost told her Cal would love the look, but Portia wouldn’t appreciate her opinion.
When the stylist was done and a mirror produced, Portia took one look and sniffed back tears.
“Can you give us a minute?” Cora asked Maddy. She waited until the camera crew left. “Make sure your microphone is off.”
Portia sniffed again, tossing the mic on the desk. “I didn’t want to look like this! You did this to me, just like you sabotaged me with Cal.”
“I never said anything to Cal about you.”
She did the breath-catching, double sniff. “Really? If you’re lying to me…”
“We’ve known each other a long time. We may argue, but neither one of us has very many friends.” Cora swallowed back her pride. “You can’t enjoy being Kaya’s sidekick.”
“You want to be friends? You think I could ever trust you again?” Her voice escalated to a near shriek.
“Yes.” As much as one bitch could trust another.
“Prove it.”
And that’s when Cora remembered overhearing Maddy asking Gemma to lock up Dave’s film of Blue in the Flash costume.
Her brother was strong. Portia was weak.
Giving the film to Portia would help her heal and repair their friendship. It all felt very Maddy-like.
Blue would understand.
Someday.
Because of their bachelors’ busy schedules,
they’d arranged a lunch for Portia’s mini-dates.
Larry was happy. He’d be home for dinner with his family. Maddy was happy. She was going to work the night shift at the bar. Work kept her from thinking about Blue and who had swiped her digital file.
Cora opened the dining room door at Javier’s for their first bachelor. He was around the same age as Portia, perhaps a little older. There the similarities ended. His dark hair was scraggly. He was a little pudgy around the middle. His clothes were faded with age. The visual contrast alone was great TV. But as a serious contender for Portia’s heart?
Maddy told Blue with a look that she doubted his choice. Blue made a small gesture with his hand that told her to be patient.
“I’m Harry West, president of the local chapter of the Portia Francis Fan Club. In case you don’t remember, we’ve met before.” And then he gasped. “Oh, my God. You cut your hair. Please don’t tell me you’re going to be making R-rated movies now. It always starts with the hair. And then it moves to the clothes. And then the drugs, thefts, tattoos and – ”
“It’s nice to see you again, Harry. Please, sit down.” Portia’s expression was a beautiful, icy mask. When he didn’t move, she added, “I’m clean and sober and unemployed.”
“Thank heavens. I guess you haven’t violated my trust, so…” He put one hand over his heart and said, “I pledge allegiance as a fan to Portia Francis of America. And for her purity, I will stand, until bad acting or drug addiction ruin her.”
“Thank you.” Portia’s smile never wavered.
“This is like a dream come true for me,” Harry said. “Let me get a picture.” He trundled to the other side of the table, put his chin on Portia’s shoulder and snapped a shot with his cell phone. He checked the display. “This is perfect for our next newsletter.”
“Harry, sit down.” There was an edge of steel in Portia’s voice. Her face was paler than its usual porcelain.
Finally.
Here was the emotion that explained Portia’s involvement with the Avengers. Maddy had only seen Portia in her ethereal element, where things happened around her, not to her. The cutting of her hair had seemed to nearly break the actress, making her seem all the more fragile. The president of her fan club brought out Portia’s resolve.
Harry backed up, took a picture of Portia alone, and then did as she asked.
Portia flipped over the index card Blue had given her earlier. She took several deep breaths before she spoke. “Do you want to have children someday?”
“Excuse me?” Harry looked perplexed. “I don’t have time for kids. I manage your unofficial fan club, including my blog, your unofficial Facebook and Twitter pages, and a website. I have to be online all the time to post the latest news.”
Harry sounded sick – almost stalker sick. That’s when Maddy noticed Blue wasn’t leaning against the wall. He stood at the ready, prepared to jump in if Harry did anything crazy.
Portia’s jaw ticked. “Do you care what others think of you?”
“No. I’m too busy studying you. Would you like to come over to my house and see my Portia Francis collection? I’ve got the Princess in the Suburbs lunchbox and the Princess in the Suburbs board game. I never play with the special edition Barbie from the show. Someday that box will go into a museum unopened.”
Portia lowered her chin and shot Blue a look that could have killed in a nanosecond if she’d had lasers for eyes. Then she blinked and was back to smiling and talking with Harry. “If I quit acting would you still find me interesting?”
“Oh, my God! You’re going to quit acting?” His eyes widened in panic. “So what if your last eight projects got bad reviews? Your fans will always love you. Don’t give up acting. What will I do if you quit and move back to Hoboken?”
“It was so nice meeting you, Harry. I’ll have my assistant send you over some autographed photos.”
Harry immediately calmed. “And, if it’s not too much trouble, a Princess keychain?”
“We’ll see.” When he left, Portia turned on Blue. “You do know I have a restraining order against him?”
“Harry didn’t mention it.” Blue knew. Maddy could tell by the tension in his jaw. He hated making people suffer. He thought of his father – and now himself – as a master of torture. He didn’t realize that spoiled, pampered celebs needed extremes to choose change. This was nothing compared to his father putting him in a coffin. And after the cruel things the Avengers had done to him, Maddy had little sympathy for Portia.
“He wouldn’t tell you.” Portia’s voice cracked. “That’s what makes him so dangerous. I never know where he’s going to show up or what he’s going to do.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t pick him for your lunch date.” Blue’s smile was positively feral. Maddy supposed continuous harassment did that to a man. “I guess now you know how I feel.”
Portia opened her mouth, looked at the cameras, and snapped it shut.
Cora ushered Lon Gleason into the dining room. Lon had been Portia’s co-star on Princess in the Suburbs. They did the whole air-kiss thing.
“Portia, you look fabulous. Love your hair, sweetness.”
“Lon, I didn’t realize they’d released you from rehab.” Portia showed real warmth. Her smile was soft. Her body language relaxed.
Lon looked like he’d been released from rehab a week too soon. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks hollow. “I decided I wanted outpatient treatment. If I can put on a few pounds, I might land a job. Can’t live on Princess syndication royalties forever.” He gave her a half smile.
“I’m glad things are looking up. By the way…” Portia slid Blue a sharp glance. “Do you want to have children someday?”
He considered her more closely. “Are you looking for a baby daddy? Because I gotta tell you, I can’t handle any more responsibility. I can barely be responsible for me. When the attention from our show went away, I kind-of fell apart. But I guess you knew that.” He smiled meekly. “Not that you have to worry about making it on your own. You always have everything under control.”
Portia’s smile tightened. “Do you care what others think of you?”
“Do I?” Lon looked around the room. “Is this some kind of intervention? Because it’s starting to sound an awful lot like therapy. You aren’t supposed to care what people think of you, Portia. They try to teach you that in rehab, but it’s easy for a counselor to say that when he’ll never see his picture in People with a caption that reads: Hollywood Shuns Lon Gleason.” Lon thrust a hand into his dirty blond hair. “But that’ll never happen to you, doll. Because everyone loves you, every second of every day. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”
Portia frowned. “Have you been drinking?”
“Not today.” He shifted in his chair. “But all this talk about futures and shit is making me feel the urge.”
“Don’t you dare,” Portia told him. “I won’t allow it.”
“You won’t…” He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. “Am I being punked?”
“No! Shut up and let me finish.” Portia glanced at the ceiling, drew a breath and then spoke in her eloquent voice. “If I quit acting would you still find me interesting?”
“Shit. Maybe I should’ve taken something today. You’re tripping me out.” He ran his hands through his hair again. “You can’t quit acting, Portia. Everyone loves you. Don’t waste that.”
“They don’t,” Portia said stonily. “The critics hate me. No studio wants to work with me. No producers either.”
Lon blinked. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.” Chin up, she reassembled her smile. “You know what? I want you to stay with me for a few weeks. We used to be friends and we did some of our best work together. Maybe our agents can come up with something for us to do as a team. But the deal is off if you drink.”
“Slow down,” Lon said. “Are you asking me to – ”
“We’re not going to have sex. You can have a bedroom downstairs. We’ll talk about o
ld times and maybe go to a few acting classes like we used to do when we were kids. I’ll cook. You’ll eat.”
“That sounds…” Lon swallowed thickly. “Good.”
“Now go.”
And he did.
Portia stared at her hands, clearly suffering. “I hate everyone with the last name of Rule.”
Maddy didn’t dare look at Blue, because this was great, but he wouldn’t see it that way.
Chapter 30
The president of the fan club had been a mistake. Bringing in the actor who used to play her brother on television wasn’t earning Blue any points toward relationship-fixing, although it had shown that Portia actually had a heart. It came down to his last bachelor.
Xavier Sentata was an up and coming pro golfer who looked like he was ready to ascend the throne – tall, suavely handsome with one heck of a golf swing. Blue only hoped that Xavier wasn’t interested in filling a stable with female admirers.
Xavier stepped into the dining room under the admiring gaze of Cora, wearing khaki slacks and a black, Nike polo shirt. Portia’s eyes did a quick stroke of appreciation as Xavier introduced himself.
The fact that Maddy wasn’t immune to Xavier’s good looks didn’t escape Blue either. Her jaw hung open. He reached over and gently pushed her chin up.
She looked at Blue and mouthed, “Wow,” earning a scowl.
“I am happy to meet such a beautiful and talented woman,” Xavier said in his softly accented voice.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Portia’s smile actually reached her eyes.
“I am only in town for two days before I must be in the Emirates for a golf tournament, but when I was asked to come today, I knew I could not pass up the chance to meet the star of the Princess show.”
Points to Xavier.
“You know I have to ask you questions and…” Portia laughed self-consciously. “I didn’t come up with these questions.”
“I understand.” His smile was brilliant. In a smile-off, it was unclear who would win – Portia or Xavier.
“Do you want to have children someday?”
