Her Secret Life

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  After the restful family weekend with her folks and Levi, the last thing she wanted was to deal with Hollywood smut. She just wanted to don Doria Endlin’s clothes, her persona, and bring her to life in a way that made her real to the millions of viewers who’d made her part of their lives.

  She wanted to entertain. It was what she did best. Maybe the only thing she did well. She effervesced. Naturally. That was her talent.

  Not that she had any reason to feel sorry for herself. She led a blessed life.

  With that thought firmly in mind, she told her agent that she had an investigator working on the photo situation. The woman barely shrugged. Any publicity was good publicity as far as she was concerned. And she really didn’t see the harm in the photos. People expected television stars to live large and party hard.

  Kacey didn’t want to be defined that way, because she was coming to realize that she really did want to be more like Lacey. To have the family and home life that Lacey had.

  Waa, waa, waa. There she was crying again. Being selfish.

  As soon as she was alone in her dressing room, she picked up the phone and texted her sister, who would be en route from Italy back to California with Jem, to let her know that there were more photos, that she was sorry, and would do whatever she could to make it right.

  Not that the photos really affected Lacey. So far all of them had been of Kacey in Beverly Hills with full makeup. The liner that made her eyes seem bigger and a bit slanted, the face colors that made her cheekbones more pronounced, and the lip pencil that grew her lips an eighth of an inch.

  No one in Santa Raquel seemed to know that Lacey had a famous sister. Or, probably more accurately, didn’t care that she did. It wasn’t like Kacey was the only famous or rich person who frequented the town. Or even the most famous. She was daytime TV. Didn’t rate nearly as high as nighttime or the big screen.

  And that close to LA, Santa Raquel had several homes owned by stars.

  Probably because everyone there respected their privacy and let them live their lives.

  Maybe they really didn’t care. Not everyone went gaga over television stars. Especially on the California coast, where there were so many of them.

  And she was stalling. Text sent, she called Michael. If he was busy, he wouldn’t pick up. She’d know it was no reflection on her—or their friendship.

  Just as the fact that they hadn’t seen each other all weekend had nothing to do with how close they were.

  Or weren’t.

  If he’d introduce her to his family, she’d have been able to see him. The fact that he hadn’t was not a reflection on her, but somehow her head had managed to play that one up big.

  Was Michael afraid that she’d be a bad influence on a family that had struggled so much? Or worse, did he think she’d look down on them?

  He picked up as she was still entertaining the thought.

  “Why won’t you introduce me to your family?” That hadn’t been what she’d called to talk about. But...she went with what was in front of her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve offered, several times, to cook so you can have them over. I’ve hinted that I’d like to join you when you’re with them sometime. And I’ve flat-out asked to meet them. This weekend I could have come over and watched you and Willie play video games for a while. But no. You ignore my offer. You stall. Or you point-blank tell me no. I need to know why.”

  “Why do you think?”

  Sitting in Doria’s slinky figure-hugging black dress, with a cleavage halfway down to her belly button, she didn’t care about wrinkles. The scene was done. The dress would be cleaned. “Okay, you want me to do this for you? Fine. You think I’m too full of myself. That I’ll look down on them and somehow make them feel small. Insignificant. That I’ll lord it over them.” She was convincing herself more with each word.

  “No.”

  She blinked. He wasn’t even going to discuss the viability of the theory with her?

  “Then you think I’ll be a bad influence. You’re embarrassed by the fact that you’re friends with a woman from Tinseltown. You don’t want them to think you’re as shallow as I am. Or that you’ve crossed to the wild side.”

  “I haven’t crossed to anything. I’ve never even seen you in makeup.”

  True. At least not the Beverly Hills variety. She paused, noting that he hadn’t given her an unequivocal no. “Then you’re ashamed of me and...”

  “I think that if my family met you they’d try to make something more of our relationship than is there, just as your sister and her husband would do if we started involving our families. That would result in pressure on us, which would eventually lead us to look at ourselves in different lights to defend why we aren’t more, which would inevitably create tension between us and ruin what we have.”

  Her mouth hung open. She started to speak but was so stunned she couldn’t. She really needed to change the generic photos and old head shots of her and Lacey that were on her walls. Put up some pictures of Levi. Of the ocean during a Santa Raquel sunset, and her and Lacey at Lacey’s wedding.

  “You still there?”

  He knew she was. The call was still connected.

  “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” she finally said.

  “Not really. It’s a no-brainer.”

  Not to her. And she didn’t know where to go with it. She wondered why the idea of his family thinking they’d be good together gave her butterflies. Lots of families had wanted their sons to date her since she’d bloomed in junior high.

  And why did Michael automatically assume that they wouldn’t make it as anything other than friends? He was right, of course. She didn’t think of him that way. Because he didn’t think of her that way. Because their lives were so obviously not suited.

  But...her ego was hurt. That was it. She was being selfish again and...

  “I guess I’m feeling a bit stupid now,” she said. “I... Why didn’t we talk about this? Why didn’t we decide it together?” Why hadn’t she known? Why didn’t she ever know when she was creating discomfort in others’ lives?

  “There’s nothing to decide, Kace. You were the one, from the very beginning, who wanted to keep our association secret. I thought it was because you saw, as I did, that it was for the best if no one got any ideas.”

  “It was because I didn’t want anyone to know that you were my life coach...of sorts. I didn’t want Lacey to know that I didn’t trust myself enough to do it on my own. I didn’t want her to think I’d grown weak...”

  “It’s the weak person who refuses to ask for help.”

  Sometimes. And other times they spent their lives leaning on everyone around them.

  “You are the furthest thing from weak, Kacey Hamilton. I’ve never met anyone more determined to be accountable for your actions, to take control of them, to be the very best you can be in absolutely everything you do. Including being a friend to a small-town guy who thinks watching the sunset on the beach with a glass of wine is exciting.”

  It sounded pretty damn good to her at that moment.

  Maybe it wouldn’t have a year ago. She’d have wondered what she’d do next. Where she’d go. Whom she’d talk to. She’d have been afraid of running out of wine, or getting bored.

  When had that changed?

  Her head was hurting. She didn’t want to think so hard. Or rather, she hated thinking so hard and not coming up with answers. Push forward. That was Kacey. See something that needed doing and do it.

  “Anyway, I don’t have much time right now,” she said, sitting up. “Anything new regarding the photos?” The one that morning had been of her out with a group of friends. She and Bo had gone to an after-hours club. She’d looked blitzed.

  “I’m assuming you recognize the setting?”

  “It w
as taken a couple of weeks ago. I was stone-cold sober. Not even a glass of wine. I hadn’t been feeling well that day, but Bo had heard that a director he’s been meeting with was going to be at this club and he wanted a chance for a conversation.”

  “Did he get the conversation?”

  “Yes.”

  “But not the job?”

  “The decisions haven’t been made yet. I expect that he’ll be chosen for the part. At least that’s what I’m hearing.”

  “From Bo?”

  “No.” From her agent, who worked for the same agency as Bo’s agent. One of the producers on the project had asked her opinion and she’d told him the truth—she thought Bo would be perfect for the part.

  And she didn’t want to think about never meeting Michael’s family. Never knowing the people who were closest to him.

  His reasoning was sound. It just made her sad.

  She forced her thoughts back to the photos. “How many shots have to appear before we can do something about them?”

  “I’ve already drafted a takedown letter to the site,” he told her. “It states that the pictures have been manipulated, along with the captions. Three in this short a space of time is enough of a history to warrant at least that.”

  “So they’ll disappear? Just that easily?”

  “I don’t expect them to honor my request, Kace. It’s just a step. Depending on what happens in the future, we can show that we’ve tried every reasonable means to resolve the situation.”

  “In the future? Show to who?”

  “Maybe no one. Hopefully no one...”

  “But?” She heard it in his voice.

  “If you ever need to sue, we’ll want the takedown letter as evidence.”

  Sue. As in, this was going to go on and on until they found out who was doing it and forced them to stop by suing them.

  Or until the guy got bored and moved on to more lucrative prey.

  “He’s not making money off the photos,” she said. “That site isn’t paying him. And the address attached to the photo is my email, so it’s not like anyone can contact him to get more access.”

  “No, but he could be sending news sources to the site to show the kind of inside scoop he can provide.”

  “What, he’s at a club I’m at? Outside a boat when I’m disembarking?”

  “He or she knows where you are.” Michael’s words were soft. Almost hesitant. “They have access to your schedule.”

  “A ton of people know where I am,” she said. “Our crowd is pretty predictable.” So maybe the answer was not to run with the crowd.

  Bo wasn’t going to like it.

  “That’s not all, Kace.”

  Of course it wasn’t. No. She was not going to feel sorry for herself. She was making way too big a deal about a few photos. She was in Hollywood. She was newsworthy. That’s when you knew you’d made it.

  It was all a part of success.

  “What else is there?”

  “The photo has been posted to another site, as well.”

  She’d checked her email. Looked for Google alerts. There’d only been the one.

  “A new site?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we’ve got them, right? Because you’re monitoring my address. You can see who used it.” Unless... “Or did they use another address? But then you can trace them from that, right?”

  “They used your email address to register for the account, and as a username, just like before.”

  “So we have him. Or her.”

  “No. There’s been no new activity on the account. Nothing. Just the emails you and Lacey sent before she left for her honeymoon.”

  “I don’t understand. How can that be?”

  “They had to have registered the second site before I started monitoring it.”

  She was getting the bad news tone in his voice now. “Which means he could have registered any number of sites. That the problem might only be starting. That it could escalate to the point of a media splash.”

  “We’ll stop it before it goes viral.”

  “How?” If she never took another drink in her life, it wouldn’t matter. The world would still see her as a drunk. The idea made her tired. Sick.

  Paying for her sins was one thing. Being branded for something she wasn’t doing...

  It wasn’t a big deal. It wouldn’t hurt her career. Publicity was publicity. She was making too much out of a small thing.

  “The second account will still give me more to go on. Until it’s used, it’s nearly impossible for me to tell an account is there, but there are some things I can do. Deep-web searches I can perform. I’m going to figure out who’s behind this, Kacey.”

  She believed him.

  Because she wanted to.

  Because he was Michael.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LIVING WITH WILLIE WAS...different. Michael had known it would be an adjustment. He was used to being on his own. Accountable only to himself.

  Willie thought Michael had OCD because he kept all condiments on the door of the refrigerator, all drinks on the first shelf and leftovers only on the third.

  It didn’t matter that his reasoning was sound—a quick glance told him if he had something for dinner. He’d been labeled.

  Diane hit him up at work on Tuesday morning. Apparently the rift between youngest brother and sisters was showing signs of healing. The women had made a deal with Willie, who finally had an inside scoop, to keep an eye out for any signs of concern at Mike’s house. Which was exactly why he kept his life to himself.

  Anything could be seen as a problem if viewed in the wrong light. Too much of a good thing was bad, and all of that.

  On Thursday, Charlie called to invite him and Willie to dinner. Before he could accept—which he was glad to do because even dinner at his youngest and nosiest sister’s house was better than being alone with a kid who hadn’t looked him directly in the eye in ten years—she started in on him.

  “Before you tell me no, or make up some excuse about Willie being with you or that I tend to be hardest on him, let me just tell you that I’ve already texted him and asked him if he thought it was okay if I asked you.”

  “Willie agreed to have dinner at your house.”

  “Yes. I’m not saying he was thrilled about the idea, but he allowed that it would be better than sitting home alone with you. Apparently all you do is work.”

  “That’s not true.” He was getting less sleep than he’d like, spending his evenings playing video games and then having to stay up to get his work done after his little brother turned in for the night.

  “He says you have no life, Mike. No friends that stop over for a beer. Or neighbors that seem friendly with you. He doubts whether they even know your name.”

  “They do.” And they respected his privacy. As he did theirs. He wasn’t a borrow-a-cup-of-sugar type of guy.

  “It’s just what Diane and I have been saying all along—and what Mom and Dad fear but won’t say to you—you’ve become a recluse. It’s not—”

  “I am not a recluse.” Nor was he in a patient mood. So he wasn’t the outgoing, fun-loving kid he’d been in college. He’d grown up.

  And yes, the accident had changed him. It had shown him his own mortality in a way most kids didn’t get. And it had shown him what mattered most—his family.

  If he chose to simplify his life and do only what he loved and cared about—his work and looking after his family—then so be it.

  “Not literally,” she allowed. “Because you go out all the time, even travel, for work. And for the Lemonade Stand, which is pretty much an extension of your work.”

  “Running a successful company takes time,” he allowed. “A lot of it.” He could name twenty indivi
duals, without even having to concentrate, who gave the hours to their jobs that he did. They were all clients of his.

  “But being a complete person means having relationships with people who aren’t paying you.”

  Yes, it did. As he’d learned since meeting Kacey.

  He had a friend. A good one.

  Maybe even a cherished one—though he wasn’t quite ready to admit how much he’d grown to care about his mentee.

  Thinking of her brought a flash of their last conversation. The pain he was certain he’d detected in her voice when he’d told her what he’d assumed they both knew—that they’d lose what they had if they exposed their relationship to others.

  She had to know that Neanderthal wouldn’t be supportive if he knew about Mike in Kacey’s life. What man would want his girlfriend to be best friends with another guy?

  He sure as hell wouldn’t. He’d want her emotional intimacies all for himself.

  “Mike, are you listening to me?” Charlie’s voice rose like it did when she was gearing up for a rampage or tears of frustration. She was prone to both when it came to him.

  Because she loved him as much as he loved her.

  “Of course I’m listening. I always listen to you,” he reminded her. He did, too. He just didn’t always heed her advice.

  He could tell her about Kacey. Doing so would certainly take every breath of air out of her worry sails. But it could also take Kacey away from him.

  “Did it ever occur to you that Willie’s presence in my home is the reason for no other visitors? That maybe my usual activities are curtailed because of him?” The truth would set him free. If not for Willie, he’d have had breakfast with Kacey on Saturday. And maybe he would even have seen her later...

  Not that he’d ever done so in the past, because Lacey was always around. Missed opportunity? Or gift horse? The jury was still out on that one.

  “Oh!” Her surprise was so genuine he actually smiled. “Ohhhh. No, it didn’t!” At least one of them was feeling happy. “Well, then...um...okay, well, you want to come to dinner?”