“Excuse me?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbow.
“The storm, Jack. What, you got cotton wool in your ears? The concierge was just telling me, the damned thing nearly took the hotel roof off. You slept like a log I bet,” she adds, snorting a laugh.
“Yeah, like a log.” I parrot back to her, shifting the covers so I can get a full view of Olivia’s naked ass before she moans and tugs the covers back over herself.
“What’s that Jack? Gotta bad line here. Just calling to tell you the limo and plane are waiting, ready whenever you are. But don’t leave it too long, I got a call from the studio. Goodwyn’s none too happy about you snooping around there, something about borrowing some furs and a necklace too?”
“Yeah, yeah. If I remember correctly, the whole studio thing was your idea?” I grunt. “It’ll all be sent back with the jet. Put it on my tab,” I tell her.
“I have, Jack. And where are my publicity shots? You took off with that girl and left the crew high and dry, then I don’t hear from you until evening and now it’s time to come home? Bit of a disaster really,” she says, sounding huffy.
“Oh, I don’t know. It was good to get away,” I muse, letting my hand stray under the covers if Olivia won’t let me take them off.
“Well, it’s done something,” she announces proudly. “That paper we sued? They’ve run a real doozy, reckon you were snapped kissing the girl and then ran off with her to your room last night. Can you believe that? Already got Sol over at the lawyers looking into our next lawsuit. Sheesh, you think they’d learn, wouldn’t ya? I mean, a girl half your age… Jack…?”
I’m shaking Olivia awake, pulling the pillow off her head, and letting her know with a look that we have to get up. Now.
“I’ll talk to you later, Mo-. I mean, Denise,” I stammer and hang up, leaping from the bed in time to hear a heavy knock at the door.
“Who is it?” I growl, not needing anyone to interrupt me right now. Not even wanting to hear myself think.
“Room service.” A polite baritone voice announces from the other side of the door.
“I didn’t-” I start to snarl, but realize it’s useless.
When Jack Mercury stays in this hotel, he always gets the royal treatment. Even when he wants complete privacy.
Pulling the door open just enough to see who it is, I force a smile.
“Your luggage, sir,” the concierge announces, holding up the paper sacks Olivia and I had our belongings in from the studio. “And breakfast,” he adds, moving his eyes to a trolley covered with savory smelling silver domes.
“And the young lady?” he asks finally, making me push the door closed a little more before I notice his head jerking towards the door across the hall.
“Oh. Uh, she’s probably still asleep, or in the shower. Just leave it here. I’ll take care of it,” I tell him, forcing another crooked smile before snatching our things and slamming the door shut.
“Who’s across the hall?” Olivia asks, pouting after a yawn, sitting up in the bed but keeping her chest covered with the sheets.
“You are. Supposed to be,” I tell her, cocking a brow and then breaking into a deep belly laugh once I realize how crazy all of this.
I just hope she sees it that way. I hope we both still can once we read the papers.
Oh god. How did they?
But I don’t need to ask.
Everyone has a camera now, and a closed movie set doesn’t mean anything.
It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out someone took their own happy snaps than offered them to the highest bidder online.
Happens every day, and it’s the real reason I hate going out anymore.
You never know who’s watching.
“What is it, Jack?” Olivia asks, looking concerned.
“Nothing baby,” I console her, setting our bags down and sitting on the edge of the bed to give her another kiss.
I guess something good has come out of this. I just hope Olivia agrees once she finds out, which should be anytime soon now.
I somehow manage to keep my hands to myself while we eat breakfast and then take turns showering and getting ready.
At Olivia’s request, she doesn’t quite feel up to sharing a shower, which I think I can understand.
Not that I’d fit in there with her anyway. Once it’s my turn I barely manage to fit in by myself.
It’s almost eleven by the time we’re looking like we did the day before, but feeling like two very different people.
The limo driver is waiting out front looking fresh and primed, and after asking how our night was with a strange expression on his face, he hands me the morning papers before we set off for the airport.
It’s strange, I’m not a newspaper kind of guy. But even a glance at the front page of just one paper tells me everything.
Mom, Denise was right.
The story isn’t just on the cover of the tattle rags, it’s gone viral. National. Probably global by now.
It’s only a matter of time before Olivia gets the picture, and I’m surprised her boss hasn’t phoned her already.
We’re not long into our trip to the airport when Olivia powers up her phone.
Speak of the devil.
Chapter Fifteen
Olivia
The minute my phone powers on, it’s ringing. And no surprises, it’s Naomi.
I sigh as I hit answer, and Jack lets the papers hit my lap at the same moment, letting me see everything as I hear all about it.
I hate having my photo taken, always have. But I recognize myself and Jack instantly.
It looks like a shot from the kiss at the studio yesterday.
Okay, truth be told I barely recognize myself. It’s Jack that gives it away. The suit and him kissing me in that red dress and necklace, who else could it be?
If it wasn’t on the front page of a major newspaper, I’d think it was cute. Maybe something I’d even cherish for the rest of my days.
But there’s like four newspapers and a gossip magazine in my lap and they all have the same picture, with a corresponding article on the front pages.
And the same headline: Jack Mercury claims his prize.
Holy crap.
This is bad.
I know it’s bad because I somehow know long before she even tells me that my boss is behind all of this.
Naomi.
The witch.
“Don’t speak Fanning. Just listen,” she whispers hoarsely over the line to me.
“Even I have to say, genius. Brilliant. Masterstroke. Whatever you did or said to Jack Mercury, I gotta hand it to you kiddo, you’ve got the story of the century, and it’s right in our laps,” she exclaims.
Sucking the spit back from her collagen-puffed lips, she continues with a slight slur to her voice. Like someone who’s been up late partying and has just joined breakfast closer to lunchtime.
“Just listen to me and do exactly what I tell you and I’ll make sure you even get a proper mention. Maybe even a proper job when all the dust settles…”
It’s hard to take in everything she’s saying, but I let her do all the talking, just how she wants.
Jack’s looking out the window, and then over to me, but his hand creeps into mine and I squeeze it, telling him we’re all good.
No matter what happens from now on, I’m on Jack’s side.
Whatever my boss is trying to pull I don’t hold it against Jack.
Far from it.
“You did all this yourself?” I hear myself ask her, butting in. Not even trying to hide my disbelief.
I know for a fact that Naomi couldn’t write a real news story to save her life.
“Well. Not exactly,” she snorts. “I got someone, a friend to piece it together, but it’s got my name on it and I sold it to every major paper and gossip rag once we got the scoop,” she says triumphantly.
Scanning the story, I’m struggling to make sense of it. There’s no real scandal as such. It just says Jack Mercury kissed a ch
ubby mystery girl and he maybe slept with her.
Big deal.
But it’s the visual of it. The questions it puts in the reader’s mind.
“Where are you, Fanning? I need you to talk to me if any of this is gonna work. You disappeared off my radar yesterday and it wasn’t until late yesterday someone called me with this. I need you to check-in at the office. We need to take this as far as it can go,” she gasps, finally taking a breath of air.
I’ve never heard her so wound up, I thought she was not too far from me at her film festival, but it sounds like things have changed.
“What’s the angle?” I ask, genuinely confused.
I just don’t see a story, not even for a trashy magazine or newspaper column.
One-off filler, maybe. But no real traction like she’s foaming about.
“Don’t you get it?” she almost shrieks. “Jack Mercury, the king of Hollywood heartthrobs, lowering himself to boning a total scrubber? No offense,” she murmurs, taking a long breath.
None taken. I don’t think.
“It proves he’s finished. Washed up. Must be on drugs or booze by now… Can’t you see it, Fanning? Don’t you get it?” she gasps. “It’s the nail in the coffin for that prick and I can’t wait to drive it home, making sure he never gets another job that shows his face on a screen ever again!”
Feeling my face furrow and then loosen, I’m more than glad when her call drops out.
Something common near the airport, I find out later.
“I guess we all know now,” Jack says, eyeing me with a curious look. But not one I’d take as him being even remotely upset about the whole thing.
“You… You don’t mind?” I ask, wondering again if I really care either.
He shrugs, shaking his head and leaning over, gives me the only answer I could ever need from him.
His mouth on mine makes everything else disappear, and I moan softly, feeling like we should have stayed in bed after all.
Hang the flight back. Hang it all. Right?
I know how I feel about Jack and I’m pretty certain he feels the same. But it’s another thing for me to just assume he’s gonna provide for me just because we…
Well. I’m not his responsibility, even if we have… almost… or just because we have hooked up.
Is that what it’s called? What happened between us? God, I’m so naive it hurts.
“What should I do?” I ask, making him pull a small smile and kiss me again.
“Do whatever you think is right,” he says with feigned determination. “Just don’t disappear on me, will ya?” he asks, looking a little serious.
“Hey,” Jack suddenly exclaims, opening up one of the papers. “That’s the movie I was in it’s out on DVD, how about that?”
He seems excited, but I’m more concerned about the business at hand.
Am I really expected to drum up some complete lie, some total BS about Jack and me just to keep my job?
I know what Naomi is like. If I don’t play along, she’ll be pissed.
More than pissed.
If she’s found someone else to ‘help her’ with her column, it might be goodnight Olivia as well as sayonara Jack Mercury if that’s her game.
“Ha,” Jack beams, slapping the paper with the back of his hand. “And it got the worst reviews, yet there it is… Blue Ray too! I love it! I hope they send me some copies.”
“Jack. This is serious,” I protest. Holding up a few headlines as proof of an argument I’m not even sure I can make.
“Pfft,” Jack laughs, waving his hand and pointing to the half-page ad for his movie on DVD. Blu-ray even.
It does make me smile, seeing him so happy. He looks like a little kid he’s so excited.
“But the Naomi thing,” I remind him, almost nagging now. “She just told me she’s gonna run with this story until it buries you.”
I hate to put it so bluntly, but it’s the one thing to make Jack stop and listen, hearing my side of things. This is one thing I know about, what that woman and her column, what that paper is actually capable of.
“What do you mean bury me?” he asks, making a face that’s almost too funny but I stand my ground and keep serious for his sake.
“Naomi Pilkington,” I almost hiss. “She’s just told me she wants to ruin you with anything she can manufacture, Jack. I know this woman, she won’t stop until you’re finished.”
“But my worst movie’s on Blu-ray,” he counters, cocking his brow before he takes my hand in his, lowering his voice.
“Olivia. I know all about your boss and everyone like her. I’m not scared of some bad press, are you?” he asks me honestly.
I feel my head shaking from side to side, but I have to remind myself it’s not what I’m getting at.
“But she wants me to make it happen,” I finally tell him, admitting my part in every story like it the paper’s run so far.
Admitting I’m not a hundred percent honest myself.
“I’m just as much a phony as she is,” I sigh, sulking more than helping.
“You never wrote a bad word about me,” he counters, and although it’s true I can’t tell him that my words weren’t twisted once they hit the editor’s desk.
I can’t plead full immunity against the cruel press-driven machine that has Jack Mercury in its sights.
“That was before I met you,” I tell him honestly. “Before I could tell you I actually love you. And I really do.”
“Before you knew me,” he echoes back, forgiving me without a second thought.
“I don’t blame you, Olivia. I blame myself,” he says seriously. Thoughtfully.
“I made it in this business and a million others didn’t. I’m bound to make enemies, even people I’ve never met. And that’s the crazy thing. I make a million people happy with what they see, what they like. And I make a million, maybe two million mad just by doing the same thing. Doing what we all do, earning a living,” he says with no subtle hint of irony.
“Then what should I do?” I ask him, gripping at his huge arm, begging his advice.
“Like I said, do what you think is right.” That is all he has for me.
He’s not mad, but I can see he’s thinking, hard.
He pats my hand and even kisses the top of my head again. Something he’s started doing often enough that always makes me feel a little better.
Before I know it we’re at the airport again, the same jet waiting to take us both home.
There are a couple of hours left with Jack and me alone. Enough time for me to make up my mind about what I really want.
To see if I’ll take the chance, to choose which side I’m really on.
But looking over at Jack as we pull up to the plane, he’s still got such a boyish look. That expression of amazement that his life is where it’s at for just one more day.
I can’t help but know for sure that it’s him I love, more than anything I want for myself.
More than any sense of security I could get from any job, other people, places, or things.
Oh, Jack. I just want this to be about us, nothing, and nobody else. But I don’t want to be a hanger on.
Not like some groupie or fan with benefits.
Chapter Sixteen
Jack
The flight home starts out a lot less intimidating than our trip over, and I can see Olivia’s still torn between a few things internally as I study her.
I admit I’m beat from zero sleep last night, and I almost doze off more than a couple of times once we’re in the air, but it’s Olivia I’m thinking about when I look over to her, not the press.
Not the so-called scandal her boss is trying to generate.
Even the press she thinks she’s been a part of. The press she’s telling herself she may or may not have fed lies to about certain people.
Even people like me.
It’s just another form of acting. You get your script and you run with it. People buy it, read it or watch it.
Is it rea
l? Is it true? It’s all ratings. All business at the end of the day.
Beauty, like so many other things, is in the eye of the beholder, I always say. And to me. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, no matter who she works for.
No matter what she thinks she’s done in the past.
I’m feeling pretty smug about my sleepy analogies, one eye on Olivia and the other half-closed as I start to doze off again, just for a moment before my phone buzzes me awake.
I set it to mute. Silence. That’s all I want for a while.
Just me and Olivia, our ride home. I think even I can manage that no matter what the newspapers print.
She’s all that matters to me now and especially now that she’s the one thing that’s cured my fear of flying.
She’ll have to fly everywhere I fly from now on when I leave home.
But where is home from here? The question forms in my mind as I look sleepily up from my drooping lids to her. Noticing how much she seems bothered by the same question, and probably a dozen other ones.
The jet pitches and dips, but we’re both still buckled in this time.
Registering my expression, Olivia does her best to calm me down.
“Just turbulence, right?” she asks nervously, gripping the edge of her seat.
Feeling the breakfast we shared moving up and down inside me, I wish I could say more, but I only manage a nod of my head before the whole plane pitches left again suddenly.
“Sorry folks,” the pilot tells us over the intercom. “Thought we could get above this weather, but it seems to be headed in the same direction we are, we might have to divert. I’ll keep you posted.”
Olivia gives me a worried look. “That doesn’t sound promising,” she says gravely.
“The pilot’s the best,” I assure us both. “And small planes always feel the weather worse than big ones,” I add.
“Well, if we have to fall from the sky, there’s no one I’d rather be with,” she tells me.
“So much for optimism,” I try to laugh it off, but another wave of turbulence stops my humor short.
It’s a hairy ride for another few minutes but settles once our pilot climbs over the weather, letting us know we’ll have to divert for an hour, maybe two.
Hollywood Hearts: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 8
