by Magan Vernon
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Ryann Kerekes. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Imperfect Love remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Ryann Kerekes, or their affiliates or licensors.
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FAMED
An Imperfect Love/ Friendship, Texas crossover novella
Magan Vernon
For anyone who has ever felt like their past had to define their future.
Prologue
Eight Months Earlier
Mary
Cringing, but unable to look away, I stared at the computer screen my publicist opened. I knew the video he was showing all too well.
I was sandwiched between my bodyguard and his boyfriend, both wearing their cop costumes from the previous Halloween. There wasn’t any penetration, of course. I was an actress, albeit not the best one since I kept getting snubbed for an Emmy, but I knew how to make it look good enough for a fake sex tape to make my now ex-fiancé jealous. I didn’t think my email would get hacked and the thing would go viral, everyone thinking the entire thing was real.
“This is a PR nightmare; you know that, right Mary? Fuck. How the hell are we going to explain this one away?” My publicist, Jerry, raked his fingers through his graying comb-over.
“At least Vamps in The City can’t fire her if they do they’ll forego the ten million dollar contract,” my agent, Murray said, running his hands over the stubble on his chin. Stubble was being kind; the redhead had a few patches on his chin and cheeks that were the same color as his crazy curls.
“Yeah, but you know as well as I do that they could easily cut her character’s part down and force her into quitting.” Jerry sighed. “This is a PR nightmare. At least when it was that socialite in the early 2000s, she got ahead of the game and sold the tape herself. This was a job by some freaking hacker because you can’t keep your email or phone secured, Mary.”
“You know what? I don’t need a publicist or some kind of recon. I can revamp my image all on my own.” Standing up, I grabbed my Balenciaga bag from the table, tossing it over my shoulder and pushing my newly dyed ombre hair over my shoulder.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jerry asked, the sweat glistening off his forehead in the fluorescent lights of the conference room.
“I’m firing you, Jerry,” I said, smirking in his direction then turned to Murray. “Come on, Murray. Who needs a PR person anyway?”
Chapter 1
Six Months later
Chris
“Garcia, office. Now!”
I pressed send on the email I had opened and straightened my tie. Last time my manager called me into his office was to introduce me to the new intern last summer. The intern who I happened to hook up with the night before and didn’t get her number. The same hookup and intern who happened to be his fresh-out-of-high-school daughter. If she was in a club and had a rack like that, there was no way to tell her age or who her dad was.
“Yes, sir,” I said, popping out of my cubicle.
My roommate and co-worker, Danny, whispered, “dead man walking” as I strolled by his desk and I shot him a glare before running my fingers through my dark brown hair. My fade was starting to grow out, and I needed to see a barber, but things were a lot more expensive in the city than Jersey so I’d probably end up having one of my other two roommates do a quick buzz.
“Yes, sir,” I said, walking into Mr. Davis’ corner office with the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a view of the Hudson.
“Close the door and have a seat,” Mr. Davis said, already at his desk with his reading glasses perched on his nose and his eyes trained on his computer.
“Yes, sir,” I nodded, swallowing hard before shutting the door and then walking the few steps to sit in the uncomfortable leather chair across from him.
I sat up as straight as I could, folding my hands on my lap. I’d been working at Tate & Cane since I graduated high school. I came to New York and lived in a youth hostel while I tried to become a model. It turns out every brown boy that comes to the city to be a model doesn’t always make it, so I had the backup of working as a janitor. Over the years, I worked my way up from janitor to mail room clerk to assistant to the assistant to just plain assistant and now finally to junior associate. This basically meant I did the bitch work that the senior associates didn’t want to do. Most people bitched about it, but my Instagram game was strong at 100,000 followers, and I had a good knack for doing clients branding.
In the early days I thought it could help me get discovered, now, after ten years in the city, I was just ready to get to the next level at Tate & Cane and a paycheck that would get me my own place without three roommates who made it very hard when I brought in an overnight guest. Or well a few hour-long guest at least.
Mr. Davis typed a few things on his computer, not even looking at me. “Remember a few months ago when you asked if you could take the lead on the Morningstar account?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. You said I wasn’t ready, but since then I’ve been working extra hard, proving myself with working on the social media branding for two of Morningstar’s swimming sponsors, including that big sportswear company.”
I was a little bitter that some old ass dude who didn’t even know who Olympic superstar, Jay Morningstar was, got the account and I just had to handle the social media, but I let it roll off my shoulders and worked extra hard to make sure my part kicked ass.
“Well, you’re in luck, kid, because we have a new client that could use someone with your go-getter attitude. I’m giving you the lead on this account,” Mr. Davis said, barely glancing at me.
I tried to hide my enthusiasm, even though I wanted to start dancing in the middle of his office, I just nodded instead. “Thanks, sir. I won’t let you down.”
He smirked. “Good, you’re meeting her tonight. My secretary already made reservations at that tapas place down the street.”
Dinner? Her?
“Okay, sir. I’ll get with your secretary to get the details. Thank you,” I said, standing up and putting my hand out for Mr. Davis to shake.
He didn’t even smile as he stood up, giving me a rough handshake. “Keep from fucking this up, and you could be moving out of that cubicle.”
I forced a smile. “I won’t let you down.”
Walking out of his office with a little bit more of a spring in my step, I swung around the corner to Mrs. Templeton’s desk. The woman was middle-aged and reminded me of my Aunt Rosie, who was the assistant to one of the CEOs. Though Mrs. Templeton was more like Mrs. Brady than Auntie Rosie and her Latin temper that she liked to let out on one of her six kids or me when I was out of line.
“Hey, Mrs. Templeton, I’m supposed to get with you on the details of my dinner meeting with a new client,” I said, leaning on her way-too-clean white desk.
“Oh, stepping up to the big leagues with your own client now? Does your aunt know?” Mrs. Templeton asked.
The company may have been bigger than the town Dad and Aunt Rosie grew up in, just south of the border in Mexico, but everyone seemed to know my aunt and her empanadas.
I grinned, feeling a sense of pride as I adjusted my tie. “Haven’t told her yet. I’ll make sure to go up and tell her and call my mom soon, though.”
Mrs. Templeton smiled, looking at her computer and typing a few things
. Just as quickly as her smile appeared, it disappeared when she stared at the screen.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, trying to look at the monitor, but she had a darkened screen protector that kept me from seeing.
Mrs. Templeton swallowed then forced a small smile. “It appears your new client is also a new client to the company. That actress from that vampire show, Mary James.”
Every hair on my body stood on end.
Six months ago, Mary James was a big deal. You couldn’t go anywhere without seeing her on some sort of billboard advertisement for her show Vamps in the City or look at anything on social media or magazines without seeing her and her then boyfriend, Eddie Justice, walking hand in hand to some gala.
But that was before a sex tape of her sandwiched between two cops went viral. Since then she’d fired every publicist, she’d worked with and had been killed off the TV show. There were rumors that after her engagement had ended, she went into hiding and gained one-hundred pounds and now lived in a hostel in Mexico.
Of course, I didn’t believe any of that, but I kept up with my Twitter and saw the random conspiracy theories.
“Okay. What time should I be there? And think I should go for the black or charcoal suit?” I asked, regaining my composure.
Mrs. Templeton’s smile widened a bit. “You’d look great in anything, Christiano.”
Only Mrs. Templeton, my mother, and aunt called me by my real name, and despite the fact I mostly went by Chris, it always made me grin when they used Christiano.
I patted my hand on her desk. “Charcoal it is.”
Giving her a little wave, I headed back toward my desk, and Danny poked his head over my cube like a Meerkat. “Hey, dude, your phone has been buzzing off the hook. Did you get fired and your aunt told your mom before telling me?”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone off the desk as another text popped up.
Mama: Mijo! A promotion and new client! I’m so proud!
“Guess Aunt Rosie really does know everything before I do,” I grumbled, setting my phone down.
“So what happened?” Danny asked, widening his eyes.
“It looks like I’m meeting with a new client for dinner tonight, so I should probably get a hair appointment,” I said, swiveling in my chair.
“A client? As in, a real one? Not just handling some body builder’s twitter account?” Danny’s hands gripped on the side of the cube.
“Yup. And if I can handle this one, I’ll be out of the cubes and into my own office,” I said, leaning back in my chair and putting my worn out loafers against the cubical wall between us.
“Holy shit, man. That’s awesome! Who’s the client?”
I hesitated then licked my lips. “Mary James.”
“No shit? The porn star?”
I shook my head. “One sex tape doesn’t make someone a porn star. Besides, I heard that whole thing was faked to make her ex jealous.”
Danny shook his head. “I don’t know, man, that’s going to be a hell of a lot of work to fix that girl’s image. It looks like you’ll be hanging out in this cube a bit longer.”
I smirked. “Don’t underestimate me, Danny. Pretty soon you’ll have to make appointments through my secretary for lunch.”
“Yeah, we’ll see if either of us lives to see that day,” Danny said before getting back in his cubicle.
He was right, of course. This was going to be a hell of a lot of work to fix this girl’s PR, but I was up for the challenge. I hoped.
Chapter 2
Mary
“Another PR guy bites the dust,” I muttered as the crying, bug-eyed old man leaves my agent’s office.
Really, why did he think we’d be a good match anyway? The guy lasted an entire two weeks, and the only thing he accomplished was getting the paparazzi to get my good side in the one picture they were able to get of me leaving Whole Foods.
Murray sighed. “Well, we’ve got one more place to try and if this guy doesn’t work, then maybe it’s time you take up the offer to be a celebrity endorser on QVC.”
“Ha, ha. Real funny.” I rolled my eyes.
I’d been acting since I was in the womb. My mom still showed people how I would kick right on cue for the prenatal vitamin commercial she did at nine months pregnant.
Since then I’d been in beauty pageants, local print, and commercial work until I landed my first role on a soap opera as a main character’s daughter for ten years.
But my big break came when I was eighteen and Vamps in the City was green lighted.
I thought I’d be on that show until the end, and who the hell knew that show would last past the ten years it had been on.
But of course, the publicity of having me around wasn’t good for them, and they killed off my character. Of course, I could still come back at some point with some ridiculous story of a vampire rising again, but I had a feeling the production company was done with me.
I was never meant to be the star of that show; it was reserved for the director’s daughter, Tori. But people always seemed to like the bitchy blonde best, and I was the household name. The sex tape was just the final nail in my coffin.
Literally and figuratively. They freaking let her character stake me.
And that was back in November. Now in May, I was still searching for a movie role, hell even a cameo on some underrated sitcom. But no one was clamoring to get me, and that was where PR came in but was failing miserably.
Murray nodded. “He’s from Tate & Cane. His secretary arranged a dinner meeting over tapas for the two of you tonight at seven.”
“Tapas?” I raised an eyebrow. All the other publicists I met with were women who met over coffee or old men who wanted to get drinks at a hotel bar.
“Yes. He’s a young guy, with an impressive social media following. He knows your target audience and should be able to give everything a fresh perspective,” Murray said, waving his hand in the air.
I picked up my phone, wondering if “impressive following” meant this kid was some kind of Instagram model. “What’s his name?”
Murray ran his hand through his hair then picked up his phone, scrolling through it. “Um. It looks like Chris Garcia.”
“Gee, that isn’t common or anything,” I muttered, typing the name into Instagram and the first guy that came up was a stunner with a black and white shot. He had piercing eyes, both ears dotted with diamond studs, and a body that did not stop, not even at that perfect V dipping into his jeans.
I shook my head. Sex was what got me into this situation, albeit fake sex, but I couldn’t think about that with my future publicist.
I read through his profile and scrolled through his pictures with a lot of girls commenting some lewd things, but he seemed to have a knack for getting people talking.
“Is this the guy?” I asked, flipping my phone around to show a photo of Chris, shirtless, with a Mets cap on and giving the bird.
Murray’s eyes widened. “Um. I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out tonight.”
“We? I think the meeting is just with me.”
Murray raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to join you?”
I knew how it would go if he came. He would spend the entire dinner discussing strategy and act like he was my dad who needed to take care of me, even though I was almost thirty and had done just fine without my dad in my career.
Smiling I stood up from the table. “I got this.”
Smoothing out my dress, I grabbed my purse from the table with my other hand. “Now if you excuse me, I have to go get ready for my dinner meeting.”
With that, I coolly walked out of the room and didn’t let out a breath until I got to the elevator.
This was my last chance with a PR person, and I was trusting my career and image to a guy who I could have probably gone to high school with. A very attractive guy but one who didn’t look or act like the typical PR agent.
Hopefully, that would be a good thing, for both of us.
Chapter 3
Chris
My apartment I shared with three roommates was in Brooklyn, which was a hike from Manhattan after work to change and get a haircut before the dinner meeting.
I barely caught the train back to Manhattan in time to haul ass down the street, so I wasn’t late for possibly the biggest meeting of my career.
My phone had been buzzing non-stop since Aunt Rosie and Mom got the news of my meeting. I think Mom told the entire family, the New Jersey ones and the ones still in Mexico.
But I didn’t have time to chitchat; I had to use the remaining fifty-six dollars in my bank account to spend on tapas and try to woo this new client.
***
I thought I’d be late, getting to the restaurant, but I was right on time, giving me a few minutes to peruse the overpriced menu while I waited for Mary.
Of course, my phone wouldn’t stop chirping. I was about to turn it off when I caught the whiff of a floral scent and looked up to see Mary James standing at the other side of the table.
She was the vision of every single one of my wet dreams with her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and framing those beautifully tanned and rounded tits that were practically popping out of her little red top.
Her tight jeans hugged the curves of her rounded ass, and I tried not to let my mouth water or eyes trail the way down her wicked body.
“Chris Garcia. You must be Mary,” I said, standing up and walking around the table, putting my hand out.
Mary looked down at my hand, curling her plump upper lip before her gaze trailed to my face. “Are you kidding me? What are you like twelve?”
I smirked. “Twenty-eight, Princess.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have gotten smart with her, but I was the same age, and I’d had enough women in my life look at me like that until I bought their next drink or had them bent over the backseat of their Audi.
