Out of the Spotlight

by Tymber Dalton

  It was a dream he cherished…

  And one he tried not to put much stock into. He knew it would take a while to get off the ground, to fight Clark tooth and nail about it. Clark wanted him out in LA while he was still getting the choice offers. He didn’t want Nick on the other end of the country, playing in the sun.

  He owed Clark a lot for his help and guidance over the years, but Nick was really beginning to chafe under his manager’s presence.

  Yet he couldn’t bring himself to cut ties with the man, either. Clark didn’t need him, he had plenty of other A-listers and rising stars to make bank on besides him. But Clark had over twenty-plus years’ experience in the business Nick didn’t have, doing this when Nick was still a baby, valuable experience and contacts Nick still wanted access to.

  He’d have to figure out how to finesse it to Clark, parse it in such a way that Clark would not only not gripe about it, but would wholeheartedly encourage him to pursue it.

  Maybe I can talk to a couple of friends.

  One of his former leading ladies was a closeted lesbian whom he’d helped cover for when she’d accidentally OD’d in the middle of shoot. They’d claimed food poisoning after an intimate dinner between the two of them, some bad seafood.

  They’d been fast friends ever since, able to call on each other as a beard, when their schedules meshed, for events when the press started asking too many questions. She’d privately sought recovery and was maintaining her sobriety, a fact he was very happy for.

  She’d often expressed interest in smaller projects, but her agent and manager had steered her away from those toward more profitable ones that were pretty much all reboots of existing, successful franchises.

  She was bored, in other words.

  Another friend of his, an older A-lister who’d started slowing down his work in front of the camera for directing opportunities, had once told him at a dinner he wouldn’t mind partnering up in an indie operation.

  Hmm.

  He had to hit the grocery store. He grabbed a shower and dressed, heading out. He needed to get hair dye, too. He was starting to see a hint of blond roots wanting to peek through. He’d been keeping his hair shorn short even though Lucas had hinted at him letting it grow out.

  He was afraid to do that yet, not wanting to tip anyone off to who he really was. The disguise was working. Best not to screw with it. He could wear a wig while his hair grew out, if the director wanted him to. Chances were, by the time he started filming, it’d be long enough. Hats would conceal its short length.

  He was checking out in Publix when the cashier said, “I need to see your card, please, sir.”

  That wasn’t unusual. The registers seemed to give them random prompts to check the signature on credit cards, or maybe more of them were supposed to verify the signature and just ignored the prompt. He didn’t know. He’d gotten out of the habit of taking out cash from the ATM before going into the store and paying that way. It was an extra step and a pain in the ass. No one had recognized him yet.

  He handed it over and was putting one of the bags into his cart when he heard the girl gasp.

  He looked up and saw the look of awe on her face.

  Oh, shit.

  “You’re Trevor Nichols!”

  Shit shit shit!

  He reached for his card. “No, I’m not. I just have a similar name and look a lot like him.”

  She drew back. “No, you’re him. You—”

  “May I please have my card and receipt?” His whole body trembled, adrenaline coursing through him.

  She finally handed it and the receipt over and he practically ran from the store without bothering to put them in his wallet first.

  Haphazardly slinging everything into the trunk, he slammed it shut, left the cart sitting in the empty space next to his rental, and gunned it, leaving the lot.

  Shaking, he reflexively scanned the mirrors for anyone following him back to the condo.

  Dammit!

  He’d grown complacent.

  It took him two trips to get everything from the trunk into the condo. On the second trip, a young guy, almost a kid, whom he’d spotted around the complex doing maintenance work, approached him.

  “Hey, sir?”

  He stopped. “Yes?”

  The kid walked up. “Anyone tell you you look a lot like that guy Trevor Nichols?”

  His acting skills kicked in. “Yeah, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that. My mom keeps telling me to call Hollywood and find out how to be one of those, what do you call them, stand ins.”

  The kid was smarter than he first appeared. “You know, Trevor Nichols’ real name is Nicholas Trevorsky.”

  “So?”

  “Isn’t that your name?”

  He started walking. “Nope. Sorry, these groceries are getting heavy.”

  It took every ounce of will he had not to bolt from the kid.

  But when he was safely locked behind the condo’s front door, he realized he had a problem.

  A big fucking problem.

  And he sure as hell couldn’t put Lucas or Leigh at risk.

  He damn sure couldn’t risk going to Venture tonight.

  Or, he sadly realized, ever again.

  Dammit.

  Fighting the urge to cry, he got the cold groceries put away and headed into the bedroom to start packing.

  He couldn’t even risk going to their house to say good-bye.

  And if he stopped too long to think about it, it would rip his heart out.

  * * * *

  Leigh had just walked in the door at home when she heard Lucas’ cell phone ring. She set her stuff down and tracked him into his bedroom, where he’d been packing for the weekend.

  From his tone of voice, she could tell it was bad news.

  “Uh huh. Yeah, I’m sorry, too. We were looking forward to this weekend.”

  Her heart fell.

  “Yeah, she just walked in. Hold on.” He turned and handed her the phone. “It’s Nick.”

  She didn’t want to take the phone at first. Finally, she did. “Hello?”

  “Hey.” He sounded miserable. “I was just telling Lucas, I have to fly back to California tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah. We have an emergency with one of the deals, and they need me back pronto.”

  She felt a painful bubble swelling in her throat. “Okay. When will you be back?”

  His tone of voice told her more than his words did. “I…I don’t know. I hadn’t planned on leaving this soon. I thought I still had time.”

  That basically meant he wasn’t.

  Coming.

  Back.

  She sank onto the bed. “Okay.” She didn’t want to cry, but felt the tears start anyway. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry our weekend is blown like this. I really wanted the time with you guys. Once I figure out what’s going on, I’ll be in touch and see what we can do.”

  He wouldn’t. He wasn’t meaning to lie to her, but she knew it. “Okay.”

  “You guys…you two are so special to me. You’re great, really. You have no idea what I feel for you.”

  Now she felt stupid, naive for wanting to tell him she loved him. “Thanks. You, too.”

  “Okay. Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye.” She ended the call and stared at the phone.

  Lucas sat next to her and draped an arm around her shoulders.

  “He’s not coming back, is he?” she whispered.

  He nuzzled her head. “I wish I could say yes, but I have a feeling no.”

  She closed her eyes and cried.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On Thursday, six days after Nick left their life, Leigh was sitting at her desk at work and ruminating on how quiet and…well, not empty, but that their evenings now had a gaping void in them that was never evident before.

  She sensed those feelings in Lucas, too.

  She especially missed the text messages from Nick. She
’d sent him a couple, but received no responses. When she called him, it went straight to voice mail.

  No e-mails from him, either.

  Maybe he wasn’t as into us as he claimed to be. Awfully suspicious he won’t even return a text message.

  It was like she hadn’t received any closure, a chance to properly say good-bye to him. She got it if he had to leave, but the whole situation seemed…off, somehow.

  The office felt claustrophobic, stifling. She grabbed her purse at lunch and decided to head out to downtown and grab something there. As she was walking to her car, she heard a man call her name.

  “Ms. Shultz? Leigh Shultz?”

  She clutched her purse more tightly against her as she fisted her keys in her right hand, one sticking out between her first and second fingers as Lucas had taught her.

  The guy hurrying toward her appeared to be carrying a cell phone. “Who are you?” she asked, stepping back.

  “Carter Dempsey, with TMZ.com. Can I ask you a few questions about your relationship with Trevor Nichols?”

  The question not only caught her off-guard, she had problems processing it. “Who?”

  “Trevor Nichols. The actor.” He swiped through his phone and held it up. On the screen, a black and white still from what looked like a security camera, of her and Lucas getting out of her car in the parking lot of Nick’s building. He swiped through again and showed another still, this time of the three of them, of Nick kissing her good-night at his door, then one of him kissing Lucas good-night. And another security camera still, of the three of them, in the elevator at one of the hotels they’d used early in their trysts.

  “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But in her brain, a bunch of puzzle pieces had suddenly and painfully slipped into place.

  “Look, Ms. Schultz, I don’t want to cause you any trouble, but there’s an easy way to do this, and a difficult way. We’ve got several security camera shots of you and Lucas Howell entering the building where Trevor Nichols rented a condo using a credit card from an LLC he controls. As well as footage of you and Mr. Howell going to his unit.”

  He held up his phone. “Lots of footage. His real name’s Nicholas Trevorsky.” The man’s gaze narrowed. “I can arrange a hefty sum, if you’ll give us an exclusive on what your relationship is with him, or any private details you can share with us. We can even leave you listed as ‘an anonymous source close to the actor,’ if you can provide us with some candid photos or juicy gossip, along with concrete proof.”

  She felt like she was going to throw up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said again, hoping he’d just go away.

  “We tracked your cars, yours and Mr. Howell’s, by the license plates in the security videos. An informant who works at the complex is the one who put everything together and tipped us off. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

  She turned and headed for her car, her hands and legs shaking so badly now she was afraid she might end up flat on her face.

  Which would, no doubt, end up on TV and the Internet, too.

  She got in, slammed the door shut, locking it for good measure before she put the key in the ignition and started it.

  The man had followed her, and it looked like he was now videotaping her with his phone. She pulled out of the space and headed toward US 41.

  So much for a quiet lunch.

  Aware that she would likely be followed, she took a couple of side streets and, sure enough, there was a car staying on her tail.

  Dammit.

  Instincts kicked in. She glanced at her gas gauge to see how much she had before making a U-turn and heading south. She knew where Ed Payne’s office was, even though she’d never needed to use his services before.

  But if she ever needed an attorney, now sounded like the right time.

  She tried to shake the car following her, but they tenaciously stayed on her tail. As she approached another stop light that had changed to yellow, she floored it, switching lanes and passing the car in front of her while at the same time catching the pursuer off-guard. The car she’d passed slammed on their brakes to stop for the intersection while she sailed on through just before it turned red, and her pursuer rear-ended the other car.

  Hopefully, no one was seriously hurt, but she needed advice.

  Fast.

  Before she reached Ed’s office, she called Lucas’ cell phone and left him a message. “This is an emergency, and no, I’m not hurt. But you have to call me as soon as you get this voice mail.”

  Fortunately, Ed’s office was in a building that also had parking in the rear. She pulled around back and found a spot there. As she sat there and realized she should have been back to the office fifteen minutes earlier, she swore.

  The receptionist, Kelley, answered as soon as she called. “Hey,” Leigh said without preamble, “This is Leigh. I’ve had a family emergency come up. I won’t be back in today. Can you please tell everyone?”

  “Oh, what happened?”

  “Um, I’m still trying to sort everything out. And I have to go talk to Lucas and tell him.” That much was true, at least. “And I won’t be in tomorrow, either.”

  “Okay, no problem. I’ll clear your appointments. I hope everything is okay?”

  “I hope so, too. Thanks. See you on Monday.”

  Lucas likely wouldn’t be able to call her until his lunch break in twenty minutes.

  Now that she had time to breathe, to think, the weight of everything slammed home, leaving her feeling like a total idiot.

  Of course Nick had reminded her of someone. How many times had she and Lucas watched one of Trevor Nichols’ movies and both of them lusted after the hunky star with the blue eyes?

  Did he use us?

  Was that it? The sudden departure, maybe he realized the press were onto him, and it wasn’t a sudden “problem with a business deal” that had called him back to California sooner than expected.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  Had they simply been research for a movie? He’d never said anything to them about what exactly he did or his life out there, other than he was a writer. He’d given them the impression it was screenwriting, but he’d never elaborated.

  And if she remembered correctly, Trevor Nichols’ parents had died when he was in college, too.

  She wanted to cry, to scream, to rail. Instead, she glanced around before getting out of her car, locking it and practically sprinting into the building.

  The receptionist frowned when Leigh burst into the lobby as if a thousand demons were on her tail.

  “Please,” Leigh said, “is Ed here? This is an emergency. I really need to speak to him.”

  The receptionist sat back. “Whom may I tell him is here?”

  “It’s okay,” she heard Ed say from a hallway. When Leigh looked, she spotted his head peeking out one of the doors. “I thought that was you, Leigh. I saw you run past my window. Janet, please reschedule my next appointment for later this afternoon.” He waved Leigh down to his office door, which he opened for her.

  That was when the tears started. The next thing she knew, she was seated on a sofa in his office with a wad of tissues in her hand as she tearfully blurted out the whole story to him.

  He slowly nodded, holding the box of tissues and offering her more when she rendered the latest ones in her hand completely sodden.

  “So let me get this straight,” Ed said. “You and Lucas were involved with the Trevor Nichols? The actor?”

  She tearfully nodded. “We didn’t know it was him. He’d cut and dyed his hair and he wore glasses.”

  “Did that guy who was waiting for you at the office follow you here?”

  She shook her head and told him about the evasion.

  He took a deep breath. “Okay. So we need to—”

  Leigh’s phone rang, interrupting him. She looked at it. “It’s Lucas.” She burst into tears again.

  Ed held out his hand for her phone. “I’ll talk to him.”

&n
bsp; She handed the phone over to him and he answered it. “Hi, Lucas? It’s Ed Payne…”

  She quietly cried as she listened to Ed telling the story. Now she felt like even more of an idiot for not recognizing Nick.

  Trevor, she reminded herself.

  Well, then again, he was both. Which one was real?

  Maybe neither of them had been real.

  She finally tuned back into the conversation as Ed was wrapping things up. “Okay, we’ll see you shortly. Be careful leaving the school…Okay, good point. See you.”

  He ended the call and returned to her, sitting again and trading her the box of tissues for her phone. “He’s on his way.”

  “What if they’re waiting for him, too?”

  “The teachers’ lot is fenced and gated,” he said. “You have to have a parking pass. He said he’ll keep an eye out for anyone trying to tail him.”

  “What am I going to do?” she asked. “If the press goes to my office and asks questions about me and Lucas, they might fire me! They don’t even know Lucas is gay! They damn sure don’t know about our BDSM activities. And what about the school board? Lucas being gay isn’t a problem, but if they find out about our BDSM stuff, they might fire him!”

  “Hold on,” Ed said. “Don’t panic. Yes, this might be bad, but it sounds like they don’t know about the BDSM stuff, or they would have outright said so. That’s something they wouldn’t hesitate to strong-arm you about. Which leads me to believe they’re on a fishing expedition. They’ve probably talked to several people from that building already. If they had any information like that on the three of you, they would have already run with it to make sure they had a scoop, and asked questions later.”

  “Cripes, what a nightmare.”

  “It’s nothing more than an unfounded rumor right now,” Ed cautioned. “They’re used to trying to rattle people to get information. You did the right thing, coming to me and not talking to him.”

  She still felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “I’m just…I’m stunned. I feel like an idiot and wonder now if we were just research for him for a role or something.”

  “You need to try to call him again.”

  “I doubt he’ll answer.” Her emotional pain at Nick’s departure had been tripled by the betrayal. Quadrupled.