I am not jealous of Jane, Elizabeth told herself. She’s dating a gorgeous movie star and staying at his beautiful Hollywood Hills mansion while I’m taking our drunk sister back to our hole-in-the-wall apartment. I’m not jealous. It would be harder to bear if Jane weren’t such a sweet person, but Elizabeth truly wished her sister every happiness in the world. And although she liked Charlie, she wouldn’t want to date him.
Lydia turned back toward the toilet. “I think I’m going to barf again.”
Elizabeth sighed and held her sister’s hair as she hunched over the bowl. Think of this as a learning experience, she told herself. Preparation for medical school. Maybe I’ll be a gastroenterologist.
She tried to breathe through her mouth as the smell of vomit permeated the air.
Or maybe I’ll be an eye doctor.
Chapter Nine
The next few days passed uneventfully. Shooting happened on schedule, and Elizabeth was mostly successful at avoiding Will. When they did interact, she kept it brief and professional. In one of her rare moments of downtime late on Wednesday, Elizabeth stood beside Lydia as Roberta filmed reaction shots from extras, including George, who was in a baseball cap and a windbreaker. The scene was the site of a car accident, and the extras were playing gawkers in the crowd.
It was painfully obvious why Roberta hadn’t chosen George for a larger role. He definitely believed in the “more is better” school of acting. He showed surprise with a wide-open mouth and reacted to the accident by cringing as though afraid of being hit with flying shrapnel.
George had started the scene in the front of the crowd, but every time Roberta re-shuffled the extras, he had more and more people between him and the camera. No doubt most shots of his face would end up on the cutting room floor.
“Isn’t George the hottest guy ever?” Lydia sighed.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I suppose.” George’s scruffiness was attractive, but many other men were more appealing—like dark-haired brooding guys such as Will Darcy. Not that it meant anything; Will was still a jerk. Gorgeous, but a jerk.
It was a shame George wasn’t a better actor. His presence had enlivened the set as he cracked jokes, organized groups to get lunch together, and kept everyone entertained between scenes. His open, friendly disposition had charmed everyone—except Will, who stayed in his trailer when George was around, which only confirmed George’s stories about the Darcys as far as Elizabeth was concerned.
She liked George. She did. But at the same time, he made her uneasy. He didn’t seem to have the most stable lifestyle. “You’re better off with someone closer to your age.”
Lydia laughed. “I thought older men were supposed to be more mature. Oh, and did Mom tell you?” She grabbed Elizabeth’s arm in excitement. “He’s getting the funding together to produce an indie movie.”
“Really?”
“And he wants me to play the female lead!” The words burst out of Lydia.
“That’s great.” Elizabeth tried mirror her sister’s enthusiasm. But Hollywood was full of people putting together deals that didn’t go anywhere. “What’s the screenplay about?”
“It’s called Alien Meatballs Escape from Alcatraz.” Lydia watched as George “tripped” and “fell” while trying to escape a swerving car. “Of course, it’s a musical.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said faintly. “You don’t have a lot of singing experience.”
“I was in Once Upon a Mattress in high school.”
“Well, yes, but the school paper likened your performance to a screech owl being waterboarded.”
“I think they meant that in a good way.”
“How is George going to fund the movie?”
“Crowdfunding,” Lydia answered promptly. “He’s already raised $8,006.”
“That might be enough for one day of filming.” Elizabeth didn’t want her sister to pin her dreams on the success of this venture. “What does Mom think of this plan?”
“She loves the script.”
Oh Lord, the thing must be horrible.
“You know, you could be more supportive.” Lydia glared, hands on her hips. “It’s not like I piss all over your dreams. I don’t say, ‘You’re going to be a doctor? I bet you’ll kill all your patients.’”
“I’m sorry, honey.” Elizabeth sighed. Lydia wasn’t wrong. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. Most Hollywood projects don’t go anywhere.”
“I know that!” Lydia waved away the objection. “But this screenplay is brilliant. They just have to make it!”
“Okay,” Elizabeth said dubiously.
Lydia gave her a resentful side eye. “Sure, stomp all over my dreams, why don’t you?”
“I—”
“I hope all your patients die of syphilis!”
Before Elizabeth could respond, Roberta called, “Cut and print!”
Lydia dashed onto the set, throwing her arms around George. “You were great! You were so extra! You were the extra extra!”
Watching her sister, Elizabeth supposed some lessons had to be learned the hard way.
***
“Who are you bringing to the premiere of The Ice Queen’s Castle?” Roy, Darcy’s manager, asked.
Instantly Darcy pictured Elizabeth in her purple sundress. He tried to push the image aside, failing to recall the names of the various famous or semi-famous actresses Roy had suggested the last time they’d talked.
Darcy switched the phone to his other ear and paced the length of his trailer. Thank God he had privacy for these kinds of conversations. “I don’t know. Who did we talk about?” He didn’t want to attend at all; the movie was sure to be deadly dull. But he was friendly with several of the stars, and it would be a huge media event. It was a place he needed to be seen.
“Maria Martinez. She’s gotten a lot of buzz for the Z is for Zombie movies. She has a great scream.”
Just what I want in a date. “Who else?”
“Anna Stein. She’s well known for her killer legs and great rack.”
Darcy ran a hand through his hair. I went to Yale Drama School for this?
“Michelle Otaski. Do you remember that really sultry commercial for Green Shores Bank?”
“No.” No doubt he’d suppress any memory of a banking ad that tried to be sexy.
“She was also a singer on Who Stank the Worst? The blonde with a silver sequined dress.”
“Oh yeah.” Darcy had seen clips from the reality show on the internet.
He’d been filming for hours, but it was still morning. Too early for this kind of conversation. Darcy swung himself into an easy chair and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. He could picture the women in his mind. Each one was beautiful and poised—would look great on his arm and would be thrilled to be there. Nobody would question why he was dating any one of them.
Of course, there were drawbacks, which Roy had explained in detail. Maria had a serious boyfriend. Anna would undoubtedly talk crap about Darcy behind his back. Michelle regarded everyone with the haughty stare of the model she used to be, even though everyone in the world knew she sang like a frog gargling lava.
On the other hand, standing next to any of those women would embody Hollywood glamour. Wasn’t that the point?
He couldn’t help musing how fun it would be to take Elizabeth to one of those events. She wouldn’t crane her neck in search of people who might advance her career or talk nonstop about who she had lunch with.
Actually, it sounded…restful. He could imagine her curves enhanced by an evening gown. What color would she wear? Purple? Blue? No doubt it would be something unexpected. Maybe they wouldn’t look like the perfect Hollywood power couple, but…
“Will, you still there?” Roy prompted.
With an effort, he pulled himself from his Elizabeth-fueled fantasy. “Yeah, sorry. None of those women are really doing it for me.”
“There’s Caroline Bingley.”
No doubt her manager had made overtures to Roy. Darcy gr
imaced at the phone. “Only in an emergency.”
“Okay.” Roy sighed. “Give me an hour, and I’ll get you the names of some other eligible women.”
“Can’t I just go by myself?” He unbuttoned his shirt as he talked. It was Eric Thorne’s shirt, and consequently tighter than what Darcy usually wore. What a relief to remove it.
“Will, your brand is the desirable, attractive heartthrob. We want you to look like you’re playing the field—in a discreet and tasteful way. Going stag to a prominent industry event does not scream ‘every woman in the world wants me!’ It’s bad enough that you haven’t dated anyone since you broke up with Abigail six months ago. Soon I’m going to be hearing rumors that you’re gay.”
When Darcy had recovered from his coughing fit, he reminded Roy, “I don’t want to plunge right into another relationship.” How many times had he said that?
“Here’s the deal: I don’t care about your emotional state, but eventually you will need a girlfriend—or the appearance of one. It hasn’t been that long since Palm Springs. We can give it a couple more months, but being in a stable relationship is key to rehabilitating your image. It’s part of your new brand.”
Darcy suppressed a groan. Most of the time he could bear Hollywood marketing jargon as a necessary evil, but he hated thinking of himself as a brand. He was a person, damn it, not an oven cleaner or deodorant.
“If you don’t find someone, I will,” Roy said finally.
Sighing, Darcy ran a hand through his hair. The last thing he needed was his manager selecting his next girlfriend. God knows who Roy thought would suit.
“I’m not ready to worry about a girlfriend. Let’s just focus on the premiere,” Darcy said.
“Will, your brand—”
“Screw the brand, Roy!” he growled. “This is my life.”
“Okay, okay. But the premiere is in three days. I’ll find someone—”
The thought of going with someone of Roy’s choosing made Darcy’s skin crawl. “I’ll find someone on my own.”
“Will, I don’t think—”
With another growl, Darcy disconnected the call and threw the phone across the trailer where it landed on the sofa. It was just a stupid premiere. It didn’t matter. He should pick one of the three pre-selected women and be done with it. The managers would work out the details; the women would know the drill. It would be simple.
Why did the thought turn his stomach?
Maybe it was because he couldn’t erase the image of Elizabeth on the red carpet. Would her gown be clingy? Frilly? Plunging neckline? Long train? Sequins? And imagining her legs in high heels…
His body reacted enthusiastically to that idea.
“Why the hell can’t I invite her?” he asked the empty trailer. “I’m William Fucking Darcy. That’s got to count for something.” Sure, showing up with a no-name woman who was merely “pretty” wouldn’t advance his career, but it wouldn’t hurt it either. Not much anyway.
He could take her to the premiere, show her a good time, spend the night with her, and get her out of his system. He’d make all her fantasies come true, give her the night of her life, and put this stupid obsession behind him. Why not? As long as he made it clear to her that it was just one night…
A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he didn’t usually enjoy one-night stands. He had tried the casual sex routine back when he’d first made a name for himself in Hollywood, but it had left him feeling empty and unsatisfied.
This was different, he argued with the invisible objector. This wasn’t a hookup with a random stranger; it was a night of friends with benefits. He’d have to ensure that Elizabeth didn’t make too much of it, though. She couldn’t imagine she was in love with him or think this was the start of some long-term relationship.
It would be an evening of no-strings fun. She’d probably never been to a glitzy premiere; her father’s movies would never have had that kind of budget. It would be a treat for her. Then back to his place for some fun in the sack and maybe breakfast the next morning. No harm, no foul.
An added bonus was that being seen with him would do wonders for her career. Yeah, he’d be doing her a favor. Not that she didn’t deserve it. She worked damn hard on In the Shadows—and for the charity project. She had earned a little fun. And if it provided a boost to her career, all the better. Principal filming was almost over; now was the perfect time. If things got awkward afterward, well, Hollywood was a big town.
Problem solved, Darcy shrugged off his shirt and whistled his way to the shower.
***
Later that day, Elizabeth and Charlotte were sitting at one of the picnic tables behind the soundstage. Neither had grabbed lunch earlier, and they were eagerly wolfing down sandwiches.
Shortly after they’d arrived, Charlie had sauntered out of the building, followed by his sister. He had given them a friendly smile and seemed inclined to join them, but Caroline had yanked him down to the far end of the table, where they were now engrossed in a conversation. Elizabeth exchanged a knowing look with Charlotte. Caroline wasn’t especially friendly to anyone on the set, but for some reason she seemed to bear particular animosity toward Elizabeth.
Elizabeth had just finished the first half of her sandwich when she saw a cab pull up in front of the building. Jane hopped out, pulling a wheeled suitcase behind her, and hurried over to their table. Elizabeth jumped up to hug her sister, who had been on a five-day trip to Japan to promote her previous movie. Of course, Jane being Jane, she could have come from a week at the spa. If Elizabeth had just disembarked from a multi-hour transcontinental flight, she would have resembled a used dishrag.
Charlie hurried to join them; Jane gave him a kiss before squashing on the bench between him and Elizabeth. Caroline grudgingly moved to their end of the table as well.
“It’s good to be home,” Jane said with a little laugh.
“I can’t believe you’re planning to shoot a scene after an eleven-hour flight,” Elizabeth said.
Jane shrugged. “Roberta offered to reschedule, but I’ll be okay. Mostly I’m hungry.”
“Here.” Elizabeth slid half of her turkey sandwich across the table. “I’m not going to eat it.”
“Thank you!” Jane took a big bite.
“What was Japan like?” Elizabeth asked her.
Jane hastily swallowed. “It was cool, but I didn’t get to see a lot of it. Mostly a lot of hotel rooms and television studios. I’d like to go back when I can be a tourist.”
“I’ll go with you!” Charlie said with an expansive smile. “I’ve always wanted to see Japan.”
Caroline’s mouth puckered like she had sucked on a lemon. “Charlie, you haven’t been together very long. Do you really want to make plans like that?”
Charlie turned red but didn’t say anything—which didn’t endear him to Elizabeth. Jane kept her eyes fixed on her plate. Good grief! What could she possibly have against Jane? Everyone loved Jane.
After a brief silence, Jane managed a smile. “How have things been while I’ve been gone?”
“We finished filming the scenes in the post office,” Elizabeth said. “At night I’ve been working on my applications. The excitement has been almost too much to bear.”
Jane swallowed another bite of sandwich and turned to Charlie. “What have you been doing besides pining away for me?” she asked with a smile.
He shrugged. “Not much. On Monday I had dinner with Darcy. Wednesday I tried out that new club, Shiver. They have a great dance floor! We should go there. But nothing much otherwise.”
Caroline gave her brother a languid smile. “You forget that Tuesday you had dinner with Tiffany.”
Jane’s smile froze on her face. “Who’s Tiffany?”
Charlie regarded his sister with murder in his eyes. “Nobody,” he said quickly.
“A friend of mine,” Caroline said.
Jane set the sandwich down. “You had dinner with a friend of Caroline’s—just the two of you?”
Charlie was looking everywhere but at Jane.
“Was this like a blind date?” she asked, her eyes fixed on him.
“No,” Charlie said quickly.
“Yes,” Caroline drawled.
Alarm bells started to sound in Elizabeth’s head. This wouldn’t end well for Jane. Her sister dropped her head into her hands. “Jeez, Charlie. I was away on a business trip; I didn’t move to Morocco.”
Charlie glared at his sister, apparently contemplating how many different ways he could kill her. “It wasn’t really like a date. Caroline just thought I would like her, and so we had dinner. That’s all.”
Caroline leaned back in her chair, watching Jane with hooded eyes. “Were you under the illusion that you two were exclusive? Because I’m not sure monogamy is within Charlie’s wheelhouse.”
Charlie leaned across the table. “Goddamn it, Caroline, will you just shut up?”
Jane’s eyes blazed. “You said I was your girlfriend.”
Charlie spluttered. “You are. You are my girlfriend. This was just a friendly, get-to-know-you dinner…In case…In the future….” Jane just glared at him. “We never said we were exclusive…”
“I didn’t think we had to!” Jane’s fist banged on the table. Her anger was completely understandable, Elizabeth thought. At that moment even she wanted to punch Charlie.
He gave a feeble chuckle. “Let’s chalk it up to a misunderstanding, then.”
Jane stood and pushed away from the table. “I don’t…I can’t even—” She fixed her attention on Elizabeth. “Did you drive here?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth’s phone pinged, and she pulled it out.
“Could I drive your car home now? After thinking it over, I’ve decided I’m too tired to film today.”
Elizabeth scanned her text message and then stood as well. “Sure. I have to take Will a sandwich, and I’ll probably be home late.” Which was a damned shame; Jane obviously could use a shoulder to cry on.
“Jane, don’t be like this.” Charlie’s voice was pleading.
“Like what?”
“Don’t break up with me over this.”
Darcy in Hollywood Page 13
