Since my recent lapse of good judgement, Ron and I had tried to keep our time together completely professional, though Jorge was right, there was some sort of crazy chemistry between the two of us. I just hoped that it wasn’t completely obvious to everyone else, especially his wife, who was in town for the taping of the first episode of the show. I was already anxious about meeting her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the undeniable chemistry Ron and I had together.
That evening the taping of the show went well. Ron and Elena performed like true professionals. The tango steps even appeared to be appropriately passionate, despite the fact that the passion that Elena and Ron felt for each other was extreme dislike, not love.
Watching the other teams perform was a bit comical. None of the other routines were technically difficult at all, we were the only team to try anything a bit tricky. I was now secretly glad that I had not been assigned one of the hockey players. They may have experience skating, but not in figure skates, and it was the figure skates that they were required to wear, that were tripping them up. They were used to zipping around the rink in hockey skates, not skates with toe picks.
Team Muramsatsu had a bit of a rough performance due to the toe picks. I pretended to concerned and shocked when Mick stumbled, but I was secretly pleased.
After the performance, we mingled with everyone in the lobby. I was trapped there between Jorge, who was still desperately trying to pass me off as his girlfriend and Ron, who I was hopelessly attracted to.
I had tuned out most of the din, but soon I realized Ron was speaking to me.
“What?” I mumbled, suddenly returning to reality.
“This is my wife Jenae. Jenae, this is our coach and choreographer Lane Jensen,” said Ron.
“Hello,” said Jenae, flashing me a condescending smile and offering me a limp handshake.
“So nice to meet you,” I told her as I pulled my hand away, slightly disturbed. There was something about a limp handshake that always set me on edge. I was looking her over carefully and she seemed to be assessing me as well.
Jenae Brannon was perfectly gorgeous. She was tall, but still slightly shorter than me. Her hair was swept up in an elegant chignon and she was wearing a dazzling designer dress with a plunging neckline that dipped so deep, she threatened to spill right out of the front of her dress. I tried to remain expressionless, but I caught Jorge in the act of checking her out.
He gave me an embarrassed smile and whispered. “They’re fake.”
I rolled my eyes, but Jenae didn’t even notice, she was glancing ambitiously around the room. She was obviously ready to mingle with people who were much more important than me. I was finding Mrs. Brannon to be haughty and detached. Her children were standing there beside her, but they might as well have been miles away, as she barely acknowledged them.
“These are your girls?” I asked, smiling at them.
“Yes,” said Ron, beaming proudly. “Arianna and McKenna.”
“Such beautiful and well mannered young ladies. How did you like your daddy’s skating?” I asked them, with a smile.
“It was funny!” said McKenna, with a little giggle.
“Yeah, I didn’t know he could skate at all. I thought he was going to mess up bad,” said Arianna.
“How do you girls like it in Hollywood?” I asked them.
“It’s fun!” cried McKenna, excitedly.
“Yeah, we got to go shopping on Rodeo drive,” said Arianna.
“Mr. Broussard tells me you’re the best choreographer on the cast,” said Jenae, eyeing me with barely concealed disdain. I was still clinging to Jorge’s arm, hopelessly trying to convince Jenae, and everyone else, that Jorge and I were lovers.
“Oh Jorge, you’re such a bragger,” I said, kissing him on the cheek affectionately.
“Darling, why would I lie? Nobody’s better than you,” he growled, spanking me on the behind, familiarly. I gave Jorge a stern glare, but I didn’t slap him, like I really wanted to. I kind of thought he was taking this girlfriend thing, a little too far.
I was hoping, Jenae didn’t notice that Ron had given Jorge a stern glare as well, and he was now rolling his eyes miserably over the entire, ridiculous charade.
“Hopefully you’re good enough to ensure that Ron makes it to the finals. We could use the extra money. You’ve no idea what a pay cut he had to endure when he retired from football,” said Jenae, shaking her head miserably.
“Oh, that’s so sad,” I mused. “Rest assured, I will do my best Mrs. Brannon.” I had to bite my lower lip, I almost burst into maniacal laughter. Poor Jenae, she thought she was suffering, she probably had no idea how the rest of the world was struggling in these hard times. Even with his enormous pay cut, Ron still made probably five times what I made back in Colorado Springs. The Brannon family was hardly anywhere near the poverty level. Though I must admit that my own fortunes had improved since I arrived in Hollywood.
I was happy that the taping was over for the night. We were scheduled to go to the gala send off party, yet another publicity ploy, that the network had cooked up to promote the show. I was expected to attend, as part of my contract. I wasn’t looking forward to it, big Hollywood parties were not really my style, I planned to show up for a few hours then go back to the condo and straight to bed. For some reason, I was completely exhausted.
At the gala, I had no choice, but to spend the entire evening on Jorge’s arm. He was determined for everyone to believe that the two of us were a couple, and it was working, though it was getting a little nauseating for me.
I may have been on Jorge’s arm, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Ron. Now that I had met his wife, I realized she was just as awful as I had imagined she was. They had been married for fifteen years, he told me that things had been different in the beginning, the money had changed who she really was, now the need for it, consumed her.
Every time I caught his eye, he would give me a little smile, it was the only time he smiled all night. He was obviously miserable, I was obviously miserable. Jenae had sent their girls back to her hotel with a babysitter and she was busy working the crowd, and dragging Ron along with her.
I was completely bored with the entire affair. I was not a Hollywood socialite, and I had no desire to stay there and work the crowd. I had no acting ambitions, I had taken this job just to try something different, now that I was here, I realized that Hollywood was not the place for me. As soon as the show finished taping, I planned to go back to Colorado Springs. Hollywood was not really my style.
Unfortunately, it seemed as if I wouldn’t be escaping the party any time soon. Jorge was obviously afraid I was going to sneak off with Ron if he took his eyes off me for a single second. I was stuck there, as Jorge ambitiously tried to convince everyone that the two of us were sleeping together. I was growing quite tired of his annoying sexual innuendo and his new found need to spank me or grope me, just to prove his point.
After an especially annoying encounter, Jorge and I were finally standing in a corner alone, just watching the crowd in front of us. “Are we going to have sex later?” I whispered. I was messing with him, I wanted to giggle, I’d had a few glasses of wine, everything was starting to seem completely hilarious to me.
“Oooh, why would you ask me that?” asked Jorge, eyeing me disgustedly.
“It’s the foreplay darling. That’s the second time tonight that you’ve spanked me. It’s making me totally hot,” I told him, raising my eyebrows at him playfully.
“Good God, if you want to get laid so badly maybe you should hook up with Mick Santos. Look at the man, he’s nothing but a raw piece of male meat, and very single,” said Jorge looking me over, disgustedly.
“Maybe I just want your meat,” I told him, flashing him a seductive smile. I was trying hard not to giggle. I was being very naughty, but I had decided I was ready to leave, and Jorge was about to send me home without an argument.
“You’re drunk!” he cried, glaring at me in shock.
&nbs
p; “Just a little bit,” I crooned, giving him a seductive smile and pressing a wet kiss on his cheek.
“Bloody hell, we must get you out of here,” he snapped, glancing around the room nervously. I had to conceal my satisfied smile, he thought I was totally wasted. Of course, loose lips sink ships, and Jorge had no desire for me to drunkenly spill any secrets. He was suddenly quite ready for me to go home. I had draped myself on him, feigning inebriation, Jorge was completely horrified.
“Maurice!” called Jorge, waving down our camera man. Maurice trotted over to us quickly. “Can you do me a favor and get Lane a taxi and make sure she gets back to her condo safely. I fear she’s had a bit too much to drink,” said Jorge, pressing a hundred dollar bill into Maurice’s hand. Jorge watched him like a concerned parent, as Maurice took me by the arm and walked me toward the front lobby.
I walked out clinging to Maurice’s arm, as the concierge got me my taxi. I was quite pleased with my new found acting skills. I was ecstatic to be leaving the party, until Maurice got into the cab with me, and I realized he planned to accompany me home, for some unknown reason.
I was leery as the cab pulled away from the curb, I didn’t like this one bit. I had never really trusted Maurice anyway, he came off as a bit of a sleeze ball, so needless to say, I was not happy to realize he planned to accompany me back to the condo. I could only hope that he would see me in, and then go on his way.
Within moments, my worst fears were realized. Maurice gave me a creepy smile and slid closer to me.
“Well Ms. Jensen, we are finally alone,” he said, leering at me.
“Whatever you have on your mind the answer is no!” I snapped. “Sir, can you please turn around and take this man back to the party, we’re not together.”
“Oh come on Lane, don’t be that way,” said Maurice, looking into my eyes and sliding even closer to me, sliding his hand up my thigh.
I grabbed his hand and removed it from my thigh. “I mean it Maurice, back off...”
Without warning, Maurice pounced on me. In seconds the slime bucket was on top of me, ambitiously trying to cram his tongue down my throat.
“Maurice, what are you doing?” I cried, trying to push him off of me.
“Did you want to go back to your place or mine?” asked Maurice, raising his eyebrows at me seductively.
“Get off of me now Maurice, or I will...”
“Or you will what? I don’t believe you can make me any hotter than you already have. Come on Lane, I can give you what you need,” breathed Maurice, pressing his body seductively against mine. I was struggling to push him off of me.
“Mr. Dubois, I advise you to keep your hands to yourself. I am very sorry to inform you that I am not drunk at all. My drunkenness was simply a little act. I was merely hoping to get out of the party early. My boyfriend, your boss, I might point out, will not be very happy to learn that you have been hitting on me,” I told him, playing the only card that I had.
Maurice rolled his eyes and gave me an arrogant smile.
“Lane darling, you may have everyone else around here fooled, but you cannot fool me, Jorge is not your boyfriend, he is gay...I am not an idiot. Besides, I have been there on the ice with you every day, I can see what is going on. Ron Brannon is the one that you want. I’ve been going over the practice footage, and I must say, I have some very interesting footage of the two of you together, when you think that no one else is around.”
“You have nothing, Ron and I are friends, that’s all,” I snapped angrily.
“Most people would believe that, but being there every day, I guess you could say, I see more. I see the smiles, the glances, the longing...” he whispered seductively.
I glared at him angrily. I couldn’t say anything, I was guilty.
“You want him,” said Maurice, as he reached out and traced his finger across my cheek. I snatched his hand away quickly.
“I mean it Maurice, don’t touch me!” I seethed.
“Come on Lane, you want me to keep your little secret, don’t you? You and me, one night, I promise you’ll have a good time.”
“If you so much as lay a finger on me again I will make sure that you loose your job,” I snapped. My voice was strong, but I felt like I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t deal well with intimidation. Maurice obviously thought that he had the advantage over me somehow.
“I’m the one holding all the cards here. I have incriminating video footage, video clips that could sneak off to another show that would pay handsomely for it. I could be a rich man, just by ratting you out,” he said, smiling at me seductively.
I grimaced, I found Maurice to be completely repulsive. I narrowed my eyes and glared at him, there was no way I would ever give in to someone who was trying to blackmail me.
“You have nothing...I’m his coach...”
“Brannon is married, but the two of you are very close. In fact, I get the feeling that you and Mr. Brannon have done a little bit more than just skate together,” said Maurice, leering at me.
“There is nothing between us. I’m his coach and choreographer, so of course, we spend a lot of time together...” I was trying to sound indignant, but my voice was laced with guilt.
“Think about your career Lane. Let’s just say, I know exactly how Jorge feels about negative publicity, he’s pretending to be your boyfriend, to keep the heat off of you and Brannon. I think Mr. Broussard might be a bit shocked if he saw some of my footage, and saw the way you have been throwing yourself at Brannon,” said Maurice, flashing me a sly smile.
“I have not been throwing myself at Ron!” I cried indignantly. I was acutely aware that the cab driver was assessing us casually in his rear view mirror. I wondered if perhaps, there was a reason Maurice was throwing names around so freely.
“I’m sorry, but you haven’t exactly been playing it cool and aloof either,” said Maurice, staring me down arrogantly.
“What, exactly, are you planning, Maurice?” I seethed, the man was a snake.
“Let’s just say that my good discretion comes at a bit of a price. A price that no amount of money can satisfy,” Maurice was flashing me a smug smile.
“Let me out,” I cried, I was suddenly panicking. My own cameraman meant to blackmail me.
“Wait a minute darling. It’s so easy, all you have to do is give me what I want and my lips are sealed. No one needs to know that you and Ron Brannon have been getting it on,” said Maurice.
“Keep your voice down Maurice,” I seethed, the cab driver’s eyes darted back to the road when I caught him looking at me in the rear view mirror. “Ron and I haven’t been getting it on!”
“The footage I have is pretty steamy,” said Maurice, fanning himself and raising his eyebrows at me. “What did you think of my video clips Tamir? They are like lovers, are they not?” asked Maurice, now addressing the cabbie, who had obviously heard everything.
“One could hardly deny the passion,” said the cabbie in a thick middle eastern accent. I frowned, Maurice had totally set me up.
“Too bad he’s married. The whole thing...it would be nothing but bad publicity, especially if the press were to get ahold of some of my steamy practice footage.” said Maurice, flashing me a sly smile. I was furious.
“Jorge will kill you himself,” I seethed, silently fearing that he might kill me also. I wondered if Maurice had caught my barely aborted kiss several days ago. Of course, that would put Jorge right over the edge!
“I’m not stupid Lane, your little affair with Jorge...it’s nothing but a scam. Jorge can’t give you what you need. Jorge don’t want you baby, he likes the men.” Maurice was leaning over me, his body was on top of mine and he was now sliding the straps of my dress over my shoulders.
“Get off of me Maurice. I swear to God,” I snapped.
“Come on Lane baby. I want you, and you want me to keep my mouth shut, that’s just how things work in Hollywood,” said Maurice, his voice was taunting as he whispered in my ear.
“J
orge will rip your balls off with his teeth, if you cause any bad publicity,” I seethed.
“I would much rather have you rip my balls off with your teeth. You’re much sexier than Jorge,” taunted Maurice, his hot breath was in my ear as he rubbed his body against mine.
“Don’t tempt me. I might actually do it,” I told him dryly.
The cab had pulled up in front of my condo and the driver was waiting patiently for me to get out.
“What’s the matter? Aren’t you going to ask me in? You might be sorry if you don’t,” said Maurice, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m sorry Maurice, I’m afraid you’re not up to it tonight,” I told him, flashing him a coy smile.
Maurice was suddenly towering over me again, pressing his body against mine.
Laying Low In Hollywood Page 10
