“After you,” he says, sweeping his arm out before him.
I snatch Noodle’s leash and stomp to my door. “Before you get any ideas, you should know I studied martial arts for six months when I filmed Heaven Rising.”
His cheek dimples. “Good to know.”
As we move through my apartment, I can’t help but see it through his eyes. Every luxury now feels like more motive for him to follow through with his revolting plan. To my surprise, he barely seems to notice his surroundings. Instead, he flops onto the cream couch in the living room and switches on the television.
“How long do you plan on staying?” I ask. “I have work to do.”
His eyes don’t leave the screen. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”
Noodle leaps onto the couch beside him and lays her head in his lap. I storm out of the room, but I can hear him chuckling all the way to my office.
Twenty minutes later, Ace sticks his head into the office. “Is something burning?” He catches sight of the flames coming from my bin and leaps into action. “What the fuck, Josie!” He scans the surface of my desk and grabs my water jug. The water douses the flames, leaving behind a haze of smoke and the acrid smell of burning paper.
“Are those your books?” Ace asks, peering into the bin. I smile sweetly, but my triumph is short-lived. Ace throws back his head and laughs.
“You burnt them? You think the truth is that easy to hide? There are hundreds of thousands of copies all across the globe. Besides,” he adds, tapping a lean finger to his temple. “It’s all up here, Jojo. Every sexy second of it.”
“I wouldn’t call your drunken fumbling sexy.”
“Funny, because that’s exactly what you called it that night.” He raises the pitch of his voice and groans in a breathless whisper. “God, you’re sexy. Don’t stop, Ace. Please, don’t stop.”
All the blood rushes to my head as he repeats the words I moaned that night, almost verbatim. I gape at him, mortified. He taps his finger against his temple again. “All up here,” he echoes.
I choke back a sob. “You’re a bastard.”
“And you’re a spoilt brat.”
My phone rings and we both jump. It’s Alex. I can’t answer it. I know exactly why he’s calling. The rumor mill operates at lightning speed.
Tears well in my eyes. “Please leave,” I beg. “I’ll go through with this, but for now, please just go and leave me alone.”
Ace walks forward and checks the screen on my phone. His face betrays not an ounce of sympathy when he reads Alex’s name.
“You don’t seem to understand how this works, princess,” he tells me. “I live here now. I’m not going anywhere.”
10
I spend the weekend hibernating in my bedroom and ignoring Alex’s calls. I finally cave and listen to his voice mails. The fury and despair in his voice crucify me, but I don’t call him back.
Ace has been quiet. I hear him moving around, but I don’t see him again until Sunday evening when he barges into my bedroom without knocking.
“Get your ass out of that bed and into the shower. I’ve made soup, it’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care. I’ve made it, and you’ll eat it, even if I have to force feed it down your throat. God, Jojo, I never figured you for such a wuss.”
“And I never figured you would turn out to be the world’s biggest prick!”
He gives me an encouraging nod. “That’s the spirit. Now get up. If you’re not at the table in fifteen minutes, I’ll be back to fetch you.”
I take one look at the soup and push the plate aside. “I hate mushrooms.”
“No, you don’t. You love mushrooms.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I watched you inhale a whole bowl after Hamlet.”
It had been a first-year Julliard production. “You weren’t even in Hamlet.”
“No, but Kingman was. I spent a lot of time backstage with him.”
“Do you still keep in contact with him?”
“I see him from time to time. He lives out in Vermont, teaches drama at his local college. Do you know he married Simone Wells? I think she played the clarinet.”
I did know, but I’d never liked Simone. “Does Kingman know you’ve stooped to blackmailing women?”
“No. Although, considering his looks, I’m pretty sure he didn’t land Simone the conventional way.” Ace has a way of saying outrageous things in such a dead-pan manner I’m not sure when he’s serious.
“Are you going to tell me why you quit acting?”
“I already did.”
I shake my head and take a spoonful of soup. It’s not bad.
“Where did you learn to cook?”
He gives me a wry look. “So you’re speaking to me now?”
“I have staff, they’ll be back tomorrow. I assume the sooner we get you in the spotlight, the sooner you’ll be gone, so I guess it’s in my best interest to make this performance believable.”
“You see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
There’s a long silence while we eat.
“My mother taught me how to cook,” he admits eventually. “She actually worked in a diner before she married my dad. She always wanted to have her own restaurant.”
“Maybe when you’re rich and famous you could set her up,” I snap.
“She died, shortly after I left Julliard.”
I wince. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“What happened?”
His face tightens. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I can tell from his expression that the subject is closed.
“And your dad?”
“He moved to the west coast shortly after it happened. He has a brother out there. They play bowls.”
I open my mouth to ask him if his dad is any good but then decide against it. I don’t want to know. Hearing him speak about his family only makes him seem more human, and I don’t want to think of him as anything but the man intent on destroying my life.
“What about your parents?” Ace asks, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil waging war inside me. “Do they still live out in Connecticut?”
My spoon drops into the bowl with a clatter. “Enough. Stop acting as if we’re so close you remember anything about me.”
“But I do remember.”
“Why?”
“Why do I remember you telling me your parents lived in Bridgeport?” he seems genuinely confused.
“No, why do you care?”
“I’m just making conversation.”
I drop my chin to my chest and squeeze my eyes tightly shut. When I look up again, I’ve composed myself.
“I’m going to bed. I have to be on set early tomorrow.”
Ace gets to his feet and stacks my bowl on top of his. “What time are we leaving?”
“I am leaving at seven. You’re not coming with me.”
“I am, actually. What better way for me to start rubbing shoulders with the who’s who of Hollywood.”
I scramble for an excuse. “It’s a closed set.”
“Uh-huh. Sure it is,” he calls my bluff.
“Fine, it’s not a closed set, but I can’t have you wandering around getting in everyone’s way.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m there.”
When I get back to my room, my phone is ringing. I glance at the screen, bracing myself for the gut-twisting pain that plagues me every time I see Alex’s name. Instead, a new terror comes over me. “Jojo!” CeeCee yells the second I answer. “I’m your fucking publicist, and I have to read about your break up on page two! What the hell is going on?” Knowing CeeCee, she’s as upset about page two as she is about me not telling her, but the death of a politician this week trumped my life events.
“I’m sorry, CeeCee. Everything happened so suddenly, I didn’t even think.”
“Jojo, you know how thi
s works. We issue a joint statement, we protect your image. We get on top of things before the rumor mill spins it out of our control. What we don’t do, is get caught on camera with our new boyfriend only days after a break-up.”
I wince. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to help.” A note of pity creeps into her voice. “The public will crucify you for this.”
“What do I do?”
“We need to issue a statement, immediately. I’ll call it through to the newsroom tonight. Ray Jenkins owes me a favor, I’ll get him to print it in tomorrow afternoon’s papers. And none of this page two bullshit, either. It won’t fix things, but it will soften the blow. In the meantime, you break up with that Tom Hardy wannabe and get back together with Alex. The only thing the public likes more than a nasty break-up is a romantic reconciliation.”
I take a deep breath. “I can’t do that.”
“I’m not asking you, Jojo.”
“It’s over between me and Alex.”
“I don’t care. You’re an actress, Jojo, so act. Alex won’t want any bad publicity either, not with the foreign investments he’s raking in. He’ll play along. Just ride it out a few more weeks and then we can stage a mutual separation. You still have deep respect for one another, you wish each other only the best, et cetera et cetera.”
“CeeCee you’re not listening. I can’t do it. You’re going to have to find another way.”
“There is no other way!”
“You’re the best publicist in Hollywood. You’ll find one. Say whatever you need to, I give you full permission to quote me.”
I hang up before she can respond. I know CeeCee. Her ego is her downfall. If I say she can find a way, she’ll damned well find a way, and I pray that she does because it looks like I might lose my reputation and my career along with Alex after all.
I switch off my phone and crawl between the sheets. I can’t believe that in such a short space of time my entire life has gone right down the shit chute.
11
On set the following day, Ace is true to his word. I’ve barely seen him and, so far, no one has complained about him being there. By midday, I’ve almost forgotten that he’s here until one of the make -up artists touching up my face asks me if the gorgeous blond man over there is one of my co-stars. I follow the line of her gaze to find Ace engaged in conversation with my stunt double. As we watch, she laughs uproariously at something he’s said.
“No,” I tell her firmly, “he’s not.”
I wave away her attempt to re-apply my lipstick.
“I’ll come back. I need something to eat.”
Ace joins me at the food table. “You’re doing well,” he remarks idly. “I was watching you earlier. You’ve come a long way from Julliard.”
I pile salad onto my plate, refusing to acknowledge the compliment.
“How much longer do you have to stay?”
“We only have to re-shoot one scene. Probably an hour or so.”
“Right, well there’s something I need to do, so I’ll just see you at home.”
The casual way he says the word sets my hackles arise, but I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
“I thought maybe we could go out for dinner tonight.”
“I’m really not up to it. It’s been a long day.” I wait for him to reply but he doesn’t, and when I raise my eyes to look at him, there’s a resolute expression on his face.
“I’ll book a table for seven,” he says.
Fenn walks in as he’s walking out. We’d left before she arrived for work this morning so this is the first time she’s laying eyes on Ace. I’m surprised she doesn’t give herself whiplash with the way she cranes her neck over her shoulder as he passes by. There’s a newspaper tucked under her arm.
“Fenn, what are you doing here?”
“I tried you on your cell, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I’m working,” I remind her pointedly. I never have my phone switched on during filming.
“I know. You don’t have access to email either, and I thought you might want to see this before you go outside.” She hands me the paper.
I flip it open and clap a hand to my mouth. The headline is enormous, taking up almost the entire front page. JOJO FOLLOWS HER HEART! Below is a black and white photo taken of Ace and I walking away from my apartment, his arm around my waist. With an expert eye, I scan my own face in the image. I don’t look unhappy. In fact, my expression as I look up into Ace’s eyes is one I never want to see on my face again.
“How did I not know any of this?” Fenn asks. That’s the problem with Fenn. She’s an excellent assistant, but she’s too shrewd for her own good.
I ignore her and scan the article. Holy hell. I am going to murder CeeCee. It reads like a cliched rom-com. College sweethearts forced apart by circumstances. According to the article, I’m quoted as being the happiest I’ve ever been, although I regret the pain I have caused Alex and hope that one day he can come to understand that I had to follow my heart. I reach for my phone, realize it’s stowed in my dressing room and hold out my hand for Fenn’s.
“I need to call CeeCee.”
“Uh huh.” The look she gives me is pure ‘I told you so’ but she hands it over.
I’m just scrolling for CeeCee’s number when Harrison barks. “Should we start without you, Jojo?” Given that the scene we’re about to film features me exclusively, I take it that’s a rhetorical question.
“I’ll just wait in your dressing room,” Fenn whispers, before hurrying off. She’s always been terrified of Harrison. I take a deep breath and remove the dressing gown I wear during breaks to protect my clothing. The make-up artist darts forward and touches up my lipstick. Five minutes later, the camera is rolling.
When Harrison calls it a wrap for the day, I heave a sigh of relief. I can tell he’s not impressed with my performance, but considering the day I’ve had, I don’t feel as guilty as I should. I re-read the article on the way to my dressing room.
Wordlessly, Fenn hands me my phone.
“Is it true?” she asks while I wait for CeeCee to answer.
“Parts of it.”
“Hello, lovely.” I hear CeeCee purr down the line, “I gather you’ve seen the papers.”
“I have. What were you thinking? When I said you needed to come up with something, this is not what I had in mind.”
“Well, seeing as you didn’t tell me what you did have in mind, I had to be creative,” she counters.
“You’ve made it sound like I’ve spent the last six years pining for Ace!”
“I’ve made you seem less like a cold-hearted bitch who broke Alex’s heart for the first cockafella who crossed your path.” By her tone, I suspect that’s exactly what she thinks I’ve done.
“Ace and I weren’t college sweethearts. Anyone who went to Julliard with us will vouch for that.”
“You were there at the same time. It’s enough. I’m more concerned about what happened after college, to be honest.”
“What do you mean?”
“I used every single resource at my disposal, Jojo, and believe me, I have plenty. You know what I found out about John Logan between when he left Julliard for France and the present day?”
Despite myself, my curiosity is piqued. “What?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s like he fell off the face of the earth. There’s no record of him anywhere. No employment history, no credit record, not one single social media account.”
“That’s impossible.”
“My point exactly. How well do you know this man, Jojo? And why, pray tell, would you throw everything away for someone you clearly haven’t seen in years?”
“It’s complicated.”
There’s a long silence. “Should I be worried? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No. No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Look, this article is damage control. Your reputation should recover. I just hope you know what you�
�re doing.”
I hang up and shove the phone in my purse.
“I’m not even going to ask,” Fenn says.
“That’s probably best,” I reply wearily. “Could you get Phillip to drive around back? I really am not up to any interrogation from the press right now.”
By the time I get home, even my bones are tired. I’m not sure this day could get any worse. Then the elevator doors open and I’m certain of it.
“What the actual fuck is going on, Josie?” Jude thunders. He’s standing in the hall outside my door, his hair a tangled mess as if he’s been running his hands through it for the past hour.
“Jude,” I sigh. “What are you doing here?”
“I closed the pub for the first time in twelve years so I could come and talk some sense into my best friend.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did.” He holds up a copy of the paper. “What is this shit? You’ve left Alex? For some guy I’ve never even heard of?”
“Yes.” I hold my head high. Jude will see right through me if I so much as hesitate.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“You’re going to try to tell me that you’re in love with this person?”
“I am.”
He laughs, but it’s an ugly, derisive sound. “Bullshit.”
“Why do you care, anyway? You don’t even like Alex.”
“I liked him well enough. You love him, which is good enough for me.”
“Maybe I didn’t love him as much as you thought.”
“You’re not that good an actress, Jojo.” It’s a low blow and, combined with my stage name, which Jude never uses, it’s probably the cruelest thing he could say to me.
“You should go. If you think I’m going to let you come into my home and insult me, you obviously don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”
“I’m starting to wonder if I ever knew you at all.”
I press my fingers to my temple, trying to ward off the dull ache which has settled there. “Jude, please. Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“Look at me.” I really don’t want to do that, but I tear my eyes upward. Jude takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing right in front of me. “What’s going on, Josie?”
Awkward in Print (Awkward #1) Page 5
