Beautiful Lie (Dirty Hollywood Book 3)

by Claire Raye

  “You’re far from either of those things,” he quips back, and damn him and his simple words that make my heart rattle in my chest.

  “So, is this hike going to be hard? Like am I going to be huffing and puffing like a rhinoceros?” I ask, changing the subject.

  Paul chuckles a little, a dimple appearing in the corner of his cheek when he smiles. I look away, feeling my cheeks warm in his presence.

  “The longest hike is just over three miles so I think we’re going to be okay here,” he responds.

  “Three miles definitely sounds doable as long as we’re not actually scaling the side of a mountain.”

  Paul glances down at his watch, chewing on his bottom lip a little as if he’s contemplating something. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to do the full three miles, but there are plenty of other hikes we can do. I gotta make sure I get to work on time. My boss is a real hardass.”

  “Really? Because she kinda feels like an imposter,” I admit, suddenly wondering why the hell I let these words slip from my mouth. Up until now this thing Paul and I had going on was surface-level and playful and not all open admissions of insecurities. It also makes me sound like I’m fishing for compliments, which is totally the last thing I’m looking for.

  I guess after all this time I’m just looking for someone to admit the truth to, someone who will just listen and not judge me the way Noel would have.

  “Don’t we all feel that way at one point or another?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders. “What you’re doing is new, but at the same time something you’re good at. There’s a lot riding on it. It’s natural to feel that way.”

  “You never give off the imposter vibe,” I tell him, especially after watching what a natural he is on a movie set. For most people it takes a few days to get comfortable, but he was right from the start. Always working for different people and learning all their quirks can be hard, but Paul came in with the confidence of someone who rarely makes a mistake.

  “Then I hide it well. I work in a job where if I’m not confident in what I do the job goes to someone else. Everything I do can be done by someone younger, someone smarter, someone in better shape. It can all disappear in seconds. I continue to be grateful that I have steady work every day.”

  “I feel like that’s any job in this industry and I guess we’re all just walking around feeling like losers.” I laugh a little, trying to make my self-deprecation endearing.

  “No one’s a loser. Well, maybe your ex-husband is, but it’s not because of his job,” Paul jokes and I nod my head. At this point all I can do is laugh at all the bullshit with Noel. “We’re all just trying to get by. We all have our own struggles and we all feel inadequate at times.”

  His words are kind and compassionate, making me swallow back the lump that forms in my throat. He understands what it’s like to struggle, and I feel nothing but understanding from him.

  “You might not be saying that when you watch me try to hike this canyon,” I say, once again bring back that self-deprecation to mask my insecurities. If I joke about it, it makes it easier.

  “Nah, you’ll do great. I mapped out a few things this morning since I don’t think we’ll be doing the full hike.” He lifts up from the car seat, pulling a map from his pocket and opening it. “So there’s one hike that’s about a mile and a half and another one that’s just under two miles.”

  “Either of those sound good,” I tell him, not really knowing enough about the area to make a decision.

  “Both of them will allow us an awesome view and we’ll get to see the Hollywood sign, but the one that is slightly longer will let us see the ruins from the properties that used to be there.”

  “Let’s do the longer one then. Who doesn’t like interesting shit while hiking, and it’ll give us a reason to stop when I’m wheezing like I’ve smoked a pack of Marlboro Reds.”

  “I think you’re cutting yourself short,” he says, reaching over and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. His touch feels like an electric shock to my sensitive skin, sending a jolt through my whole body. I can’t bring myself to respond, my eyes focused on the road as we drive toward the entrance to the park.

  We park on the street and walking side by side, the conversation somewhat stilted but not awkward as we start our hike.

  We chat intermittently as we hike and I’m not nearly as winded as I joked about. The weather is beautiful and while there are more people here than I would’ve thought, it’s still far less busy than if we had arrived a few hours later.

  “I’ve heard this is a great place to spot celebrities,” I tell Paul and he starts laughing, his hands on his hips as he cackles and shakes his head.

  “You are a celebrity, Sadie and you’ve worked with some of the biggest names in Hollywood.”

  “Yeah, I guess I was just making conversation,” I admit, sheepishly, suddenly feeling awkward. It was a completely stupid thing to say given our jobs.

  “You don’t have to make conversation with me. We can just stand in silence if you want. I enjoy being around you regardless.”

  The words catch in my throat and I struggle with what to say to him. He’s effortless and natural in what he says to me, his flirting comes easily and it makes me wonder if he does this type of thing often. How many girls has he met on sets and taken to the gym or taken on hikes? Pretended to enjoy their company. But then I remember his comment when we first met about being cheated on and now I’m trying to figure out if I’m the rebound.

  “What are you thinking about?” Paul asks, and I realize I’ve fallen silent.

  “Nothing,” I reply, shaking my head, clearing my thoughts, my irrational and stupid thoughts.

  “I’m not certain I believe that, but I’ll let it go,” Paul says eyeing me suspiciously as he walks backward toward a pile of broken rocks. “See these rocks?” He motions to them with a flourished exaggeration and stands proudly in front of them.

  “Yep, I see them. Are you their spokesperson or something?” I narrow my eyes at him and wait.

  “These are the ruins of a Frank Lloyd Wright and a Lloyd Wright pool house.” He places one foot on a large piece of the crumbled ruins and puts his hands on his hips like I should be proud he knows this random fact.

  “Seriously? It’s a pile of rubble.”

  “It is, but let me tell you how it ended up here.”

  “Please do. I’d love to hear this,” I respond, a teasing tone in my voice.

  “So way back in the 1920s Runyon Canyon was owned by some famous Irish tenor and he built a big ass mansion on the land. Lived here and all that shit. Eventually sold it to the A&P Grocery Store heir who lived in the old mansion, but decided he wanted to add a pool house and some studio apartments. He hired Frank Lloyd Wright.”

  “Like the Frank Lloyd Wright?”

  “Yep, that same guy.”

  “So what happened to the mansion and everything?” I ask, intrigued by his story, but even more interested in how he knows all this.

  “It was bulldozed to make room for a luxury subdivision, but the city of Los Angeles was like hell no.”

  “How do you know this pile is the Frank Lloyd Wright’s pile of rocks?”

  “It’s not. It’s his son’s. Geez, Sadie keep up.” He rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh in mock annoyance. “All that was left after the demolition were stone foundations. Then a big ass fire came through here and devastated everything else.”

  “Again, how do you know that this…” Paul cuts me off, stepping closer to me, again reaching up and pushing those stray hairs behind my ear.

  “Just go with it, Sadie. It’s supposed to be fun.”

  “So you’re telling me none of this is true?”

  “No, it’s true, but who knows if this is rubble from the mansion or the pool house or the apartments. There’s even an abandoned pool and someone owns the single house that is still here in the canyon. It’s for sale for some crazy amount of money. Regardless it’s a pretty cool story.”
<
br />   “It is. How do you know all this?” I ask, my curiosity now piqued.

  “Once when I was filming in L.A. I took a guided tour hike and the guide told us all the salacious details. He was much better at it than I am. You got the abridged edition.” He shrugs his shoulders and gives me a cheesy grin.

  “I should’ve known you’d be the kind of dork to combine history and exercise.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Paul

  “Come on, Sadie,” I say, laughing a little. “Harder. Give it to me, really give it to me.”

  Sadie stops, her arm pausing mid-punch. “You do realize how dirty that sounds, right?”

  Chuckling, I raise a brow, tapping her glove with my pad as if to encourage her to continue. “What and a bit of dirty talk means you stop defending yourself? God, that’s kinda easy, isn’t it?”

  Bam.

  She pulls back and whacks the pad in my right hand with a hard punch.

  “Yes!” I half shout, laughing. “That’s it. Come on, again! Harder.”

  Bam, bam, bam. Again, she hits the pad, this time with a left, right, right combo that we’ve been working on. She doesn’t stop there either, continuing her assault as I try to stop myself from laughing at the sheer grit and determination that’s now written all over her face.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, hands up as I take a step back. “Time out.”

  Now it’s Sadie cocking a brow at me. “What, don’t tell me you’re done?” she asks, surprised.

  We’ve been working out together like this for the past three weeks now. Alternating between sessions in the gym or hiking in the hills each morning before we start filming. It helps that we are starting the shoots late and running well into the night, but to be honest, I’d thought that first morning would be a one and done.

  But every day since then, Sadie has texted me asking if I want to work out.

  And every morning, I’ve texted back the same answer, neither of us actually discussing the whys of what we’re doing here.

  I’m definitely not thinking about what this means either, or how glad I am to get that text message each morning.

  “Wow,” I say, smiling. “And to think you used to hate the gym once.”

  Sadie shrugs. “Yeah, maybe, but not so much anymore.”

  I stop, a pad up to my ear as though I didn’t hear her. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  Sadie rolls her eyes even though she’s smiling as she mock punches me in the stomach this time. “Fine, you were right. It is addictive.”

  “Ha!” I half shout, my hands up in the air. “She admits it. I. Was. Right. Whoo hoo!”

  Sadie laughs even as she shakes her head at me. “Come on, are we going again or what?”

  I glance up at the clock on the wall, wishing we could. “We probably shouldn’t,” I say, gesturing toward it. “Don’t wanna be late for work,” I add with a wink. “And I’ve still gotta head home and shower.”

  Sadie pauses, her gloved hands hanging by her sides as she looks up at me. “I told you you could shower at my place,” she says, reminding me of the slightly awkward conversation we had two days ago when she first brought this up after I had to cut our workout time short. “I don’t mind, Paul and it’s closer to work. Saves you doubling back.”

  “I know.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know,” I tell her, even though I know there are a million reasons.

  She bites her bottom lip. “Do you have your stuff with you?”

  I nod. I’ve been bringing it with me since she brought it up, even knowing I wasn’t sure I’d ever take her up on her offer. “Yeah.”

  “So,” she says, clapping her gloved hands together. “Let’s quickly go again and then we can head home to shower,” she adds, not looking at me now as she focuses her gaze on the pads in my hand.

  It’s hard to tell if she’s red from her workout or blushing from the suggestion and the new change to our morning routine.

  “Sadie Washington?” an accented voice calls as we walk out of the gym.

  We both stop and I watch as Sadie turns toward the man who’s clearly been waiting for her to come outside. “Who are you?” she asks.

  He steps toward her, a friendly smile on his face as he holds his hands up in a way that signifies he isn’t here to create trouble. Doesn’t stop me from moving a little closer to her though.

  “Roger Collins, I’m with The Guardian, I’ve tried to…”

  “I know who you are,” Sadie says, cutting him off. “And I’m not interested.”

  “Please, Sadie,” he says, hand out as though to stop her.

  I instinctively move so my body is half in front of Sadie’s. “She said she wasn’t interested.”

  He glances up at me, giving me a quick once over as though trying to work out who I am. I’m sure he sees me as nothing more than her personal trainer, but I don’t care.

  “Look, I’m not trying to create trouble,” he continues, turning back to her. “But I wanted to reach out personally, see if maybe we could discuss the story I’m writing. I know Ava Bristol has told you about me. Has…”

  “She has,” Sadie cuts in. “And I know she’s in London and not involved in any of this.”

  Roger shakes his head. “That’s not true,” he says. “She’s been very helpful and she’s most definitely still involved. A lot of people are.”

  I glance at Sadie, wondering what this is about, but she’s still watching this Roger guy, a wary look on her face as though she isn’t sure whether to believe him or not.

  “Please, just take my card,” he says, holding it out to her. “Talk to Ava. Talk to Elizabeth. Talk to Anne Marie.”

  Sadie flinches at this last name and even though I know this is none of my business, I step in. “Okay, she’s got your card. She knows how to contact you. How about you leave now.”

  Roger glances up at me and again I see the questions on his face as though he wonders who the hell I am. He doesn’t say anything though, just nods once before turning to walk away. Just as I’m about to ask if Sadie is okay, he stops, turning back to both of us.

  “This is bigger than you and him, Sadie. It isn’t really even about you and him.”

  Sadie nods, her eyes watching as he finally turns and walks away.

  “You okay?”

  She turns to me, nodding, but not looking at me. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  She shakes her head, pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. “Not here,” she says quietly.

  I nod and we both walk toward our cars.

  “You want to follow me?” she asks, still not quite meeting my gaze.

  I smile at her across the roof of my car. “Sure,” I say, even though I remember where she lives and how to get there. Sadie nods once before sliding into her car.

  When we reach her house, she leads me down the hall to a bedroom.

  “There’s a bathroom through there,” she says, obviously feeling a little awkward as she gestures to a door on the far side of the room we’re now standing in. “Towels are in the closet, help yourself to soap and whatever else.”

  “Thanks,” I say, trying to meet her eyes.

  Sadie nods once, still not looking at me as she turns and walks out of the room. I have no idea where her bedroom is and as I strip off my sweaty workout clothes, I try not to think about her doing the exact same thing wherever she is in this huge house.

  My body apparently fails to get the memo though, and as I step into the warm shower, I reach for the faucet, adjusting the water temperature to something a little colder than the current setting.

  I will not take advantage of this situation by rubbing one out while fantasizing about the very woman whose house I’m currently showering in. The same woman who is also somewhere in this house, very likely naked and showering too.

  “Fuck,” I murmur as I force myself to stand beneath the cold water, my eyes scrunched shut as I try to
think about anything other than Sadie naked. It doesn’t really work though, and in the end, I switch the hot water off completely and wash in cold water, punishing my body for not getting with the program here.

  When I finally convince it to calm the fuck down, I shut off the water and get out. I grab a towel from the closet, actually groaning out loud at how soft it is and dry off before wandering back into the bedroom to get dressed.

  After I’m done, I head into the kitchen. Sadie isn’t around but the card this guy gave her outside the gym is sitting on the counter.

  Roger Collins

  Investigative Journalist

  The Guardian Newspaper

  You don’t have to be a genius to wonder what this guy wants from her and it doesn’t surprise me that she wants no part of it either. From what I can gather, Sadie is doing her best to separate herself from her idiot ex-husband to prove she is her own person and can make it without his help. The last thing she needs is to be dragged into his mess again.

  With Sadie still not around, I move over to the coffee machine and get some brewing. By the time it’s done, Sadie still hasn’t shown, so I pour myself a cup and take a seat at the island, pulling my phone from my pocket and googling this Roger Collins guy.

  “He’s doing a story on Noel.”

  Glancing up, I see Sadie standing in the doorway, dressed in worn jeans and a black top, her wet hair pulled into a knot on the top of her head.

  “I gathered that,” I say, sliding off my stool and pouring her a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” she says, taking the cup from my hands and taking a seat next to me at the island. “He’s asked me to comment, to help out for months now,” she adds, her eyes on his card.

  “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to,” I tell her. “The press isn’t exactly known for their honesty or impartial reporting,” I add, knowing I’ve seen enough bullshit stories come out about alleged incidents on movie sets I’ve worked on that just weren’t true.

  Sadie shrugs. “No, but it seems this might be different.”

  “In what way?” I ask. We’re sitting side by side, neither of us looking at each other as we have this conversation.