Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie 2)

by Kimberly Adams

“What’s Saturday? Besides your birthday,” I added.

  “Your first red carpet appearance. The annual Sundance Charity Ball. The film festival isn’t until September, but the ball in August raises money for children’s charities.”

  I took in his information, my heart clamoring.

  Red carpet? Ball?

  Cameras…

  Nausea was brewing, and I knew we were only minutes from the restaurant. He caught my eyes in the mirror, slowing down. “V? Are you sick?”

  “A little,” I admitted, taking a deep breath.

  “Hold on, baby, we’re almost there.”

  The small exchange between the two of us didn’t go unnoticed by my parents. My dad turned to flash me a reassuring smile, and my mom patted my back.

  “How exciting,” she cried, hugging me against her. “What about a lawyer? Greg, wouldn’t she need a lawyer for the movie? Have you signed any contracts-”

  “Don’t worry, Catherine, I got her the best agent in LA. Her contract negotiations were definitely fair,” Keaton said, pulling into the restaurant parking lot.

  I nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “Keaton wouldn’t screw me over,” I assured her, immediately wishing my words back.

  My dad’s face was a mask of stone, and he turned toward the window.

  The rash of hives grew over my neck, and as I reached to scratch during the intense, mortifying silence, Keaton finally burst out laughing, breaking the tension. He offered me his hand, helping me step out of the Ferrari, and both of my parents waited by the front of the car.

  “Oh, wait… Gram said to give you this.”

  I turned to him as his lips brushed mine, so very softly.

  With just the slightest touch, every nerve ending in my body came sharply alive. In the middle of the Don Tequilas parking lot, he moved upward slightly, kissing the tip of my nose.

  I was acutely aware that my parents were watching us. He couldn’t have been sweeter if he’d tried.

  “I love you, kiddo.”

  Oddly calmed by his little kiss and simple words, I folded into his arms.

  “We’ll go get a table,” my mom called with a knowing smile, and I heard the door open, the volume of the festive music inside pouring into the parking lot.

  The night had turned out to be chilly but clear. I lifted my eyes to his.

  “How did you do that?” I murmured, running my fingertips over his stubbly jaw. “How did you just win my parents over like that?”

  He smirked, that boyish grin that forced a playful smile to my own lips.

  “I’m just being real. I hope that they can see how much I love you.”

  “I love you, Keaton.” I pressed my forehead into his chest. “It was so hard showing up at their door this morning, with Matthew and my suitcase… I feel like such a disappointment to them.”

  “What, did he just drop you off? Pin a note to your sweater, ring the doorbell, and run?”

  “No,” I replied quickly, rolling my eyes. “No, he said about three words to my dad.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, reaching to tuck a long strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Nope.” I looked down at my flats.

  “Good. Now, what are the chances of us sleeping together tonight?”

  “With my parents in the next room?” I asked, flinching at the thought. There was no way I would be quiet.

  Not with Keaton.

  “Hotel then.” He retrieved his phone from his pocket, nodding toward the door. “Come on, let’s go feed my baby. I’ll find us a room.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I didn’t understand what I was asking him, and neither did he. He stopped searching on his phone, meeting my eyes.

  “Are you sure?”

  “We haven’t…” My stomach churned at the overwhelming emotions.

  “Haven’t what?” he urged.

  “Made love. Really made love. It was just that- that crazy time at the park, and…,”

  “You’re nervous?” he realized, and I nodded quickly before my ego would force me to lie.

  “Of course I am. What if I’m not as good as you remember?”

  He took a step closer, his hips pressing me to the side of the Ferrari. Another couple opened the door of the restaurant, filling the air with fiesta music.

  “Vivian… Hale,” he paused, looking down at me. “What’s your middle name?”

  “Julia,” I replied quickly. “Yours?”

  “Anthony,” he added, grinning. “Vivian Julia Hale, I fucked you at that park. It was hot, and fast, and when I came, I came so hard I made a human being.”

  I blushed, and he grinned.

  “Tonight, I’m going to make love to you. Slowly. The way I wanted to the night of my brother’s wedding. The way you deserve.”

  His words were like his fingertips, drawing soft circles over my skin, leaving me breathless.

  “I want that.” I nodded resolutely, and now it was his turn to laugh. He tugged me even closer, his strong hand at the small of my back.

  “I want you,” he confirmed, catching my lips in his.

  The cool, evening breeze picked up around us as he kissed me. He flattened his palm on my lower back, drawing me up and into him with every thrust of his tongue. I fit my body against his, letting the euphoria take me over.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  Groaning, he held me harder.

  “Christ,” he murmured and pulled away, taking a deep breath before exhaling a short laugh. “Okay.”

  Somehow we made it into the restaurant.

  We sat across from my parents in a booth, and the single bulb with a lime green shade hanging overhead reminded me of an interrogation room.

  It must have also been inspirational for my dad, because he began the rapid-fire questions before our drinks arrived.

  “When do you plan to get married?”

  Keaton reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “After the movie is finished filming, but before the baby is born. We haven’t set a date.”

  I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. We hadn’t even talked about a date, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

  “And Vivian will finish college?” he insisted, met with a nod from Keaton.

  “If that’s what she wants.”

  “It’s what I want,” I assured them all, thanking the waitress for my ginger ale. “I will finish college, Dad.”

  “And you’re planning to live… in LA?” my mother asked next, her eyebrows knitting worriedly. “What about my grandchild? How will I be involved in her life?”

  The dramatic little brat inside of me wanted to remind her of that lovely, winter’s drive to the abortion clinic that was still too fresh in my mind. Instead, I gave her a mature smile. “Planes fly back and forth every day, Mom.”

  “You’re financially independent, I assume?” My dad asked Keaton.

  “Comfortably so.” Keaton replied, being smirky and pompous, but so fucking cute.

  “And this movie you’re making? Tell me about it.”

  I started to answer my dad, but Keaton was already talking. He’d ordered water to drink, though I’d watch his eyes dart to the bar several times. “Round-Up. About murders that are happening in amusement parks all over the country with that particular ride. Vivian is the leading actress.”

  “Murders? This sounds like the news story,” he commented, and Keaton nodded.

  “There have been a string of incidents, yes. The FBI is involved.”

  “Are you involved?” my dad asked, and my mother gave him a chastising glare. “What? I can’t imagine that you haven’t been implicated in some way. The entire cast and crew-”

  “I’ve been questioned. Very few people had access to the script. It’s clear that the murders are being set up to mimic the movie plot, yes.”

  “Doesn’t that put you in danger? Both of you?” my mom looked ready to freak out any moment, and I tightened my grip on Keaton’s hand.
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  “Mom, there’s nothing that either of us can do. Keaton had security accompany us everywhere in LA. And I’m sure the set is secure-”

  “It is. Given the scope of the situation,” Keaton added, “the studio has taken extra precautions. We’re filming in Utah, in a very secluded area near the mountains, and at an amusement park there.”

  “This is a horror movie?”

  My dad’s question caught me off-guard. I was already sick of the cross-examination, and my stomach rumbled uncomfortably. “Yes, Dad.”

  “Is there nudity?” he demanded.

  “No-”

  “There is a love scene,” Keaton corrected, turning to me. “I will make sure that it is absolutely tasteful. After all, Vivian is going to be my wife.”

  I swooned like a vapid schoolgirl, resting my head against his shoulder. He turned to kiss the top of my head, and my mom gave a soft sigh.

  “Opposite whom?” my dad persisted.

  “Ash Salter.”

  “Oh, my God,” my mom finally gasped, covering her mouth. “Ash Salter? Vivian… oh, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you,” she cried, nearly doing a sitting two-step from under the table as she gave an excited little squeal.

  “He’s a good actor. I liked him in… Catherine, what movie was that, with the lawyer that was on the run from the mafia…”

  “Legal Terms. With Ash Salter and Natalie Portman.”

  “Food. Mmm.” I smiled at the waiter, thanking him as he lowered the sizzling plates of steak fajitas before us. “Let’s just eat, okay?” I suggested.

  “Keaton, have you been married before?” my dad fired in response.

  I set my fork down, sighing deeply.

  “Dad. Yes. Yes he was married before. Can you just stop? Please? Enough already.”

  My outburst surprised both of my parents, and Keaton squeezed my thigh from under the table.

  “Hey,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I don’t mind. You shouldn’t either. You eat, I’ll talk.”

  I sighed again, waiting for the inevitable.

  Perfect

  K

  “Divorced?”

  “Arrested?”

  “Enough,” Vivian begged. “It’s in the past. Keaton, don’t answer another question.”

  “I don’t think we’re being unreasonable,” my dad replied sternly. “You take off, don’t speak to us for months, and then expect to waltz back in here with someone new, pregnant again, and-”

  “Mr. Hale,” I interrupted, watching the vivid blue of Vivian’s eyes darken to that shade of violet that meant that she was on the verge of tears, “with all due respect, Vivian acknowledged that she’d made some mistakes. We all do, especially when we’re young, and in… love,” I added, trying not to think about Numero. “We’re here, as adults, hoping that you’ll accept who we are, not dwell on who we were. Can we ask that of you? Both of you?” I added, turning to Vivian’s mother.

  Her dad prickled under my words, but her mother nodded eagerly. “Vivian, sweetheart, you know that we’ve always had your best interest in mind. We’re glad you’ve moved on from Matthew. All of that was just… well, like Keaton said, a mistake.”

  “Matthew wasn’t a mistake, leaving was a mistake,” she snapped, slamming her fork to the table and speaking through gritted teeth. “I loved Matthew. I loved Rory. I would have died for him. Keaton, take me back,” she ordered angrily, her voice wavering with tears.

  “V, calm down-”

  “I’m not pretending we’re this happy, fucking-fairy-tale family any more. I love Keaton, and my future with him, and I won’t let you sit here berating me… or him… for another minute.”

  “Go.” Her father pushed back, dropping his own fork to the plate. “Go then. Run. You’re very good at that, aren’t you?”

  “Keaton, I swear to God, take me out of here before I say something I’ll regret,” she growled.

  “Go on, say what’s on your mind, young lady. Tell me what makes you so deserving of our trust. After all that we’ve done for you. Please, enlighten me.”

  “I hope that I am never as judgmental and unforgiving to my own child,” she hissed, sliding out of the booth. I followed her, standing, watching her temper flare.

  She was on fire. I’d seen her pissed off at me before, but never to the extent that she was with her father. Her mother sat against the window, glancing around the restaurant nervously, but her father remained perfectly calm.

  “I hope that you learn some grace and maturity, for your child’s sake.”

  “I’ve done my best to make the right decisions, and-”

  Her father snorted sarcastically. “Maybe you should try acting like a mother.”

  “Fuck yo-”

  “And…we’re out.” I threw my napkin over my plate. “Mr. Hale, Mrs. Hale, it was nice talking to you, up until this point. I won’t sit back and let you criticize Vivian. I’m responsible for her health, and the well-being of my child. She doesn’t need this. You have a ride home, I hope?” I asked, not really caring, but trying my best to be as polite as possible.

  “Get your things, and be gone by the time we get home,” he replied, glaring past me and straight at Vivian.

  She only turned, covering her mouth and running for the door.

  I threw a twenty dollar bill at the table and chased her to the car, catching her as she broke into what I thought were sobs. After a moment, I realized that she wasn’t crying, she was seething. “I hate him! I hate them both! They blame me for… for what happened… and-”

  “Hey.” I smoothed her hair, lowering my voice. “Hey, my hormonal little firecracker. Take a deep breath.”

  She narrowed her angry eyes at me.

  I mocked her, sticking my lower lip out and thrusting my jaw forward.

  “Stop it!” she cried, fighting back a smirk.

  “Come on, let’s go get your clothes. They should still be packed. This makes, what, twice that you’ve been kicked out in the last twenty-four hours?”

  She clenched her fists at her sides. “You are not making this better!”

  “We should get you a bindle, my adorable little hobo.”

  “What in the fuck is a bindle?”

  “You know, a stick, with the bandana tied around the end with all your worldly possessions.”

  “Fuck you, Keaton!”

  I stared her down in the parking lot, unable to resist letting my gaze fall to her chest. Her breasts rose and fell with her stubborn breaths, and I fitted my hips against hers, pressing her to the car.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “I like you this way. Pissed off. Vulnerable. Helpless. You only have me to rely on, and it infuriates you.”

  “Are you trying to make me angrier?”

  “I’m trying to make you smile.” I continued my deadpan stare until, finally, her mouth twitched in the corner. I grinned. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard. Get in,” I ordered, pressing a kiss to her forehead before opening her car door.

  She stewed furiously for a few minutes as I tried to remember the way back to her parents’ house.

  “I’m going to ruin your movie,” she finally said, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Look at my life right now. I’m a mess. My parents will never stop judging me, and Matthew- God, I broke his heart, again- and-”

  Well, that was fucking enough.

  I hit the brakes, trying not to drive with my temper. “If you say his name again, I’m dropping your ass off at his house.”

  My harsh words surprised her, I could tell.

  “Keaton?” She tried for wounded, but there was no mistaking her defensiveness.

  “What? Vivian, I have given you time. A shot at this movie. I drove all the way here. I stood up for you to your parents. Either you’re mine or you’re not. If I hear you talk about how much you still love him one more fucking time, I’m done.”

  She pressed her back against the seat. Finally, when she turned my way, I stiffened to see
her eyes glazed with tears.

  “I’m so sorry. You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

  “I’m not trying to bully you into saying I’m right. I am just making it clear where I stand, kiddo.”

  She nodded, looking down at her hands. “Just let me… grab my things. I’ll be right out.”

  “I’ll get your suitcase,” I countered, getting out of the car and walking around to her door.

  She let us in through the garage door. Neither of us spoke a word as I helped her gather her things.

  As we settled back in the car, she turned away from me, resting her head against the back of the seat.

  “The ball is on Saturday?”

  Her words sounded sleepy and far-away. I reached for the back of her neck, massaging gently.

  “Yes. Don’t worry. We have plenty of time to get to Sears for a gown for you.”

  She chuckled softly, turning my way.

  “Hey.” I moved my eyes back to the road for a moment before giving her a long, serious look. “I didn’t mean to be so hard on you.”

  “Yes you did,” she corrected.

  “Maybe.”

  She sighed, turning to look out the window again. “Where are we going?”

  “The Hilton. Oh, and I got a text from your acting coach. He’s willing to work with you back in LA, and then on the set. I think he heard Salter’s in the movie.”

  “Do you really think that… I need a lot of coaching?” she asked, and I pulled into the parking garage of the downtown Cleveland Hilton.

  “Some.”

  “I’m tired.” Her soft voice sounded almost childlike as I turned off the ignition, moving to retrieve our bags.

  “Come on, kiddo. A little further.”

  She walked with me to the front desk, and I remembered checking into the hotel in Pittsburgh with her. Things were so different between us then; flirty, playful, and I was enjoying the hell out of teasing her.

  Now, she leaned against my side, carrying my baby, exhausted after forty-eight hours of nonstop turmoil.

  “Please send room service up as soon as possible. Some soup, dinner rolls,” I ordered, and the concierge nodded.

  “Of course, Mr. Thane.”

  I hadn’t even closed the hotel room door before she lowered to the king-size bed, tucking herself under the comforter. “I’m just going to rest for a few minutes.”