I Loved You First

by Suzanne Enoch

  Her throat tightened. “You’re not leaving me here alone, are you?” she asked, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a whisper as another couple sat at the table across from them.

  “No. I wouldn’t do that, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Then why are you stomping on me?”

  “I’m not. I decided this current arrangement isn’t satisfactory to me, so I’m opening negotiations.”

  She looked at him. As good as he was at figuring out what she needed before she asked, he’d have to be blind and deaf not to realize that she needed support right now. Not a rebellion. “Your timing sucks, then.” Pushing away from the table, she stood and went to get her own breakfast.

  Brian watched her go and let out his breath as she stopped at the sideboard. She’d heard all the rumors about her profession over the past few years, that actresses were empty-headed, flighty, and ditzy. She was none of those things, except maybe for being a little flighty. When something bugged her, she avoided it. That was better than making a scene, and for her, “scenes” extended to her own personal life.

  So there he was, pushing for something he couldn’t even define, muddling through with trying to be supportive and pushing her into looking at him differently all at the same time. Yeah, it was bad timing, but watching her go out with the next Rod the Bod while he made sure her dress would be ready for the Golden Globes—that wasn’t happening again.

  His phone vibrated for the zillionth time, and he checked his texts. This one was from John Radley, updating them that the studio was less pissed off this morning—probably because the unplanned uniform reveal had gone over much better with the public than they’d anticipated—and reminding him that El needed to keep a low profile and not say a word publicly until all this was settled.

  Good. Low profiles and staying away from cameras fit in pretty well with his own half-baked plans. When Eleanor sat down opposite him again, he nodded, pocketing his phone. “John says so far so good, and keep up what you’re doing.”

  “That being hiding?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, I can do that. What the hell are you doing, though? Do you want a raise? Help? I told you that I don’t want a mob or posse or whatever it’s called around me. All those people hovering just makes me nervous.”

  “I know that, and no, I don’t want help. I like my job.”

  She bit off a piece of bacon. “Really? Then what’s with the stomping and scowling? I don’t need more damn drama, Cafferty.”

  This would be the tricky part; all of this, such as it was, was based on the idea that she A, still liked him in more than a professional way, and B, hadn’t sworn off men yesterday after Rod the Bod’s fucking nonsense. “Why did you hire me?”

  Cocking her head in the way that had made a million teenage boys fall in love with her in Obsidian Nights, she stirred her strawberry yogurt. “I told you, the qualities that made you wrong for a husband make you perfect for a handler.”

  “Right. And which qualities were those, exactly?”

  Beyond her, the middle-aged woman plowing her way through a stack of pancakes lifted her cell phone like she was answering a text, except that she pointed the phone at El while pretending not to and hit a button a couple of times.

  “Hold that thought,” he murmured, standing and strolling over to where the woman sat with two female companions. “Hi,” Brian said, putting a hand on the back of her chair and flashing a bright smile.

  “Hi,” she and one of her friends said in near unison, and she abruptly dropped her phone into her lap.

  “That’s Eleanor Ross over there sitting with me. She’s an actress, if you didn’t know that, and she’s been in a couple of pretty popular movies. Anyway, last night some stuff kind of went crazy, and she’s pretty upset about it. Actresses, you know, they hide things pretty well, but today is not going to be easy on her.”

  “So you’re going to warn us not to take photos of her and offer us tickets to her next premiere or something?” the third lady suggested, sending El’s profile a cool glance.

  God, lady, I deal with you guys seven days a week, and twice on Sundays, was right on the tip of Brian’s tongue, but he kept his mouth shut. Eleanor’s mantra had always been that she’d found herself living a privileged life, which made her fortunate, and part of a teeny-tiny minority of people on the planet. She had no intention of forgetting that, and none of her employees were allowed to do so, either. He tilted his head. Maybe he could get a little help out of this. “I was going to do that, yeah, but… Can I sit down for a sec?”

  “Sure,” camera lady returned. “Are you her manager?”

  “No. I’m her secretary, I guess you’d say. She calls me her handler.” Brian pulled out the fourth iron patio chair and sat down, leaning in on the table so he felt more conspiratorial. “Brian Cafferty.”

  “You were engaged to her,” friend number two whispered.

  Ah, a big fan, then. That was good. “I was, for about five seconds. We just get along really well.”

  “So do we get tickets to Prosecutor or not? Or the next one she has coming out. What is it? Carrier, right?”

  “Right. At this point, we’re not even sure Prosecutor is going to get made. I’ll make you a deal. If you keep her visit here to yourselves for another twenty-four hours, I’ll share some gossip that’ll make you go viral.”

  “What? I thought you worked for her.”

  “I do. It’s not about her.”

  Camera lady picked up her cup of tea and then set it down again. “OMG, I’m so nervous I’m shaking. What gossip?”

  “Twenty-four hours. Deal?” He folded his hands on the tabletop. “I have to watch out for her, first. That’s my job.”

  Number three frowned, probably at the eager expression on number two’s face. “You better not be yanking our chain.”

  “I’m not. But we need to be away from here before you start sending photos and the press vultures fly in.”

  She blew out her breath. “Fine. Deal.”

  He nodded, turning his attention to the other two. “Ladies?”

  “Deal.”

  Once they’d all agreed, he leaned in a bit more. “Okay. You know her costume for Prosecutor got leaked yesterday, right?”

  “I saw it. It’s gorgeous. Better than Wonder Woman’s.”

  “Well, we’re publicly saying that a new assistant she hired is the one who took her phone and stole the photos. But…it wasn’t an assistant. It’s not public knowledge, but they’re finally making a movie based on The Fallen Angels comic series. Rod Bannon and Zac Efron were up against each other to play Omega, the leader of the Fallen. Bannon lost out.”

  “No way. He’s so…pretty!”

  “He’s dating Miss Ross,” camera woman put in.

  “Exactly,” Brian agreed. “They went out to dinner last night, and suddenly TMZ has Eleanor’s top-secret photos. So probably no Prosecutor for her, which leaves Paramount with a big, fat empty superhero space to fill for next summer. And Rod Bannon totally available.”

  Number two gasped. “He did it? To sabotage her! While they’re dating? That’s horrible! She’s always so nice and funny in interviews!”

  “I always thought he was too arrogant for his own good.”

  “All we have is your word, though,” the cynical third friend countered.

  “That is true. You could wait and see if Paramount drops Prosecutor and green-lights a movie going by the working title of Crimewave and featuring a beach-bum superhero, though. It’s kind of Rod Bannon’s dream job. Of course by then it’ll be too late for Eleanor Ross and her female-led superhero movie.”

  Number three narrowed her eyes. “You sure you’re not just jealous that Rod Bannon is dating Miss Ross? Like Tiffany said, you were engaged to her.”

  “I might be a little jealous,” he admitted, noting that El had shifted her seat and was within earshot now. “But I’m not making this up. And honestly, as long as you wait twenty-four hours, you can say wha
tever you want. My story has the benefit of being verifiable by both TMZ and Paramount, though.”

  “Okay,” camera lady said, holding out her right hand. “If I get a selfie with her.”

  “If all of us do,” Tiffany put in.

  Abruptly a pair of hands gripped his shoulders from behind, and not very gently. “Hi, there,” Eleanor said smoothly. “I’d be happy to take some photos with you ladies. I don’t know what else Mr. Cafferty has been saying, but you have no idea how much I appreciate your giving me twenty-four hours to regroup. I’m just—Ugh, and I’m wearing a Hello Kitty shirt.”

  “It looks good on you,” Tiffany said firmly. “I’m Tiffany Diaz. This is Hillary Mason,” she went on, pointing at the camera woman, “and Poppy Heinz.”

  “Thanks for saying so,” El returned, tugging at the front of the shirt and favoring them with a ruthful grin. “It was this one or the unicorn farts one Brian’s wearing.”

  “Hello Kitty wouldn’t fit me,” he said dryly. “Photos first, then breakfast?”

  “That would be perfect, if you don’t mind. We’re going to tour Hearst Castle in an hour.”

  “Sure.”

  For the next few minutes, Brian juggled a trio of phones and took pictures of El with each of her new friends, together and separately. If it gave her some peace of mind for the next day or so, the use of her image as currency was worth it.

  As he handed back the last phone, El wrapped her hand around his arm. “How about a walk so I can regroup before the next round of phone calls?” she suggested.

  Eleanor had an Oscar nomination in showing emotions and concealing them, but he didn’t need a doctorate in acting to know she was pissed at him. Well, he had a slightly larger goal in mind than keeping her safe from prying eyes until the studio figured out the backstory for the photos leaking. “Sure. Want to bring your coffee?”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  He picked his up from the table and stepped back. “I thought so.”

  Tightening her lips, she retrieved her own cup and led the way between the other two tables and out to the gravel path that disappeared where the pond widened out behind a low hill. The two of them worked out together these days, now that the studio had engaged a personal trainer to get her into superhero shape. Even taking that and his longer stride into account, she was setting a pretty impressive pace.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, striding away from the Starlight, “but didn’t we spend several hours last night making sure that an imaginary woman was the one who leaked the uniform photos?”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “Then why the hell were you gossiping about Rod to those women? Are you trying to make me lose this role?” She glared at him over her shoulder and continued stomping up the hill.

  “Because the Bod doesn’t deserve to earn a role in Crimewave for what he did to you.”

  El stopped, the defiant hands-on-her-hips pose diminished because she still held a coffee cup in one hand. “No one will incriminate him, including me.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The people in the industry know he’s a prick, and they’ll figure out he actually did try to sabotage you to make a space for his own movie. Especially when you stop seeing him after a public date at Almuerzo the night the photos leaked.”

  “You’re sabotaging him, then.”

  “I’m getting even.”

  “He didn’t do anything to you.”

  Brian cocked his head. “He put your dream part in jeopardy, he abandoned you in a public place, and he stiffed you with the dinner bill. Even if he hadn’t done the other shit, I’d be out to kick his ass.”

  “Cafferty, you are m—”

  “I know,” he cut in. “I’m the guy who keeps your calendar. I’m your secretary. You don’t need a knight in shining armor. You don’t want a knight in shining armor, because you can defend yourself. Sorry. I guess I’m more vindictive than you are.”

  “You’re not just a secretary, Brian,” she said, using his first name for the first time in months. “You’re my friend, and I do appreciate your…righteous anger at that jerk. And I appreciate you. But you can’t go behind my back like that.”

  Brian took a deep breath. “The better interpretation would be that I’ve got your back, El.”

  “Fine. Call it what you want. But I need your assistance right now, not this…whatever it is you’re doing.” She gestured at the air around them.

  “So no independent thoughts, no advice-giving, and no brain-usage on my part?” Yeah he was being an ass, but dammit, if she didn’t start thinking differently about how she approached men and relationships, even if she decided that she truly didn’t want anything more with him, her next romance would be even worse than Rod Bannon.

  “That’s not what I said.” She turned her back and resumed striding along the trail. “God, you are so—Argh!”

  “I’m a pirate?”

  She snorted. “Shut up.”

  “El, when you called off our engagement, you said I was too intuitive. That I smothered you by doing everything you needed before you asked me for it.”

  “Before I even knew I needed it.” She slowed down but kept moving away from him. “Is that what the crap about Rod was for? You’re jealous? You said you could deal with me going out. I asked you that before I offered you the job.”

  “I can deal with you going out.” Brian scowled. “I could,” he amended. “But when you keep choosing jerks like Bannon, it makes me wonder what the hell must be wrong with me that I came in second. Or third. Or fifth.”

  “That’s not—” Eleanor stopped. Her shoulders rose and fell with the breath she took before she faced him again. “You really want to do this now?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. You’re fired.”

  Brian blinked. He’d expected pushback, and he had a ton of opposing arguments, well-thought-through arguments, waiting to counter whatever she said. But he had expected a fight. Not her just shutting him down. He probably shouldn’t have been so surprised. This made the seventh time she’d fired him in the four years since she’d hired him to be her handler. “For how long this time?” he retorted. “Twelve hours? A week?”

  “Permanently. It occurred to me just now that if you weren’t…you, I might have listened to your warning about Rod Bannon. But I didn’t listen to you, because always in the back of my mind I figured you were a little harder on my boyfriends because you used to be one.”

  “So this is my fault? Wow. You should go on Broadway, because that was some first-class gaslighting, El.”

  “I’ll give you a nice parting bonus so you can take a vacation before you go back to the law firm or whatever you decide to do next. So excuse me, but I’m going to finish my walk.”

  “You do that.”

  He stood there, half-empty cup of coffee in one hand, and watched her take the curve behind the low hill and vanish from sight. When she decided to go for something, Eleanor Ross jumped in with both feet, sometimes without considering all the angles. That was generally where he came in, to figure out the logistics and make sure it happened the way she wanted.

  This time, though, she’d forgotten a couple of major details. And he wasn’t above using them to his own advantage. Because he knew why she’d fired him. He’d pushed her to make a statement about his place in her life, one that couldn’t just be answered by saying he was an awesome employee, and rather than answer truthfully, she’d shoved him away. Again.

  Well, this time he wasn’t ready to go. Not when he still had questions about how he fit into all this, and whether it could be not just for her, but with her.

  5

  Stupid Cafferty. How typical. Just like every other man in her life, Eleanor reflected, he waited until he figured she really needed him and then decided it was time to move the goalposts. Jerk.

  His timing could have been worse, she supposed, taking a second lap around the pretty pond amid the pretty trees and pretty meadows. He could have do
ne this last night at the restaurant and left her to find her own way to a safe place and to make all the preliminary phone calls that had at least made today bearable—so far.

  That business of telling people that Rod had done all this—yeah, the first second she’d heard it, she’d kind of been…thrilled that somebody was making sure Rod the Bod would pay for his selfish jerkiness. But that wasn’t how this needed to work. According to her agent, it would be better if nobody got the blame. Nobody real, anyway. No blame, no retributions, no burned fingers down the line. Smooth. Or as smooth as it could be, considering.

  What the hell was Brian thinking, anyway, doing that to her now? She had enough crap on her plate right now, for crying out loud. Jerk. “Jerk,” she said aloud, while a hummingbird in front of her continued doing whatever it was that hummingbirds did to suck nectar out of flowers.

  She stayed away from the Starlight until she figured Brian had had enough time to pack his non-bags and leave. She’d have to put in a call to John to come pick her up and find her another place to stay, but they had the room here for two days. She wasn’t in any hurry to return home to find someone who could replace Brian—Cafferty, she meant.

  Damn it, things had been fine as they were. Why had he decided they needed to change? And asking about where he fell in her ranking of boyfriends had just been mean. She didn’t rank her boyfriends, anyway. And she wasn’t going to think about it now. She wasn’t going to think about how she’d only been engaged one time, and it had been to Brian Cafferty. That should say plenty about where he stood in the rankings.

  Or where he had stood until that last conversation. Now he would have to move on, since apparently he hadn’t done so previously. And she would have to move on, because now that he was gone, she could admit that she enjoyed having him around. That maybe from time to time she imagined what it would have been like if he hadn’t been so…perfect.

  The big old house came into view again, and this time she took the path leading back to the back patio. Nobody sat there; hopefully all the other guests had left to go tour Hearst Castle or see the sea lions on the coast or whatever it was they’d come to central California for.