My Double Life: Wild and Wicked

by Joanne Rock

  “It shouldn’t be like that—”

  “But it is. You’re a public figure. You’ll never have a fully private personal life.”

  Because it galled him to admit it, he said nothing.

  “You know I’m right.” She dropped her hand back in the water and edged away to look him square in the eye. “So give me a make it or break it chance to prove myself.”

  “What?” Had he missed part of the conversation? He shook his head, unsure what she was talking about. “You don’t need to prove—”

  “Take me to that black-tie gala tomorrow night.”

  13

  “STEP AWAY FROM the mirror.”

  Natalie pointed at me with one of her crutches, her order leaving no room for argument. I met her gaze in the wood-framed mirror of my foyer, where I’d been fussing with my hair for the last five minutes. She glared at me menacingly before thrusting a glass of white wine into my line of vision. She’d poured the drink for me an hour ago, and I had yet to touch a drop even though she insisted I needed to relax.

  Knowing a command when I heard it—and respecting that she knew best because she hadn’t steered me wrong yet—I finally took the wine and slumped down into a funky seventies chair that my father had sent for my last birthday. He’d never been a big part of my life, but he’d tried to make amends by sending the occasional gift from his buying ventures.

  “I’m nervous,” I explained, focusing on the clock now that the mirror was out of the question. We’d started off in my bedroom, but as the time ticked down to Trey’s arrival I’d been too nervous to stay upstairs, peeking out the window every other minute, so we’d moved down to the foyer.

  Trey would be here any moment to take me to the gala I’d wanted to attend so badly. Except ever since I’d talked him into inviting me, I’d been asking myself why I’d insisted on this crazy trial by fire when we’d only just started dating. When I’d only just started feeling more confident.

  “Stop being so nervous,” Natalie said, resting her ankle on the staircase. “You wanted to go to this black-tie gala. You might as well enjoy the splashy launch party and some good hors d’oeuvres.”

  Natalie had come over late that afternoon after I’d made an emergency phone call begging for clothes advice. She’d arrived with three dresses from her own closet, helped me choose a sleek navy blue sheath with a strapless bodice and short beaded hem, then supervised my makeup. In short, she’d been awesome. In return, I’d tried to give her the whole paycheck from my performance last night, but she’d staunchly refused. I managed to sneak half the amount into her purse when she wasn’t looking.

  If she tried giving it back, she’d have to deal with my stubborn side.

  I sipped the wine, closing my eyes to let the crisp, chilled sauvignon blanc work some relaxation magic. “I just wish I understood why I had to rush into this.”

  “You’re not rushing into anything. You’re dating this guy, so why wouldn’t you start attending events with him?” Natalie carefully lowered herself onto a polished oak step. “It’s not like you’re moving in with him.”

  “But I told him it would be a ‘make or break’ moment for our relationship. That we needed to know if I fit into his life or not.”

  Natalie frowned. “Wow. Way to pile the pressure on yourself.”

  I smoothed a hand over the intricately sewn blue beads just above my knee.

  “I don’t know what came over me. One minute, we were having a great time in the hot tub—” I’d never go in that hot tub again without thinking about what we did there “—and the next, I’m spouting things like ‘if I can’t handle the public eye, I don’t belong in your life.’”

  Along with my new confidence, I seemed to have developed a knack for self-sabotage. One step forward, two steps back.

  “You really like this guy Tom, don’t you?” She stuck her tongue out at me to remind me she hadn’t forgiven me for hiding Trey’s identity from her at first.

  “I’m...” Oh God. I knew exactly how I felt about him, but wasn’t ready to admit it. “I really like Trey.”

  My voice sounded funny, deep and husky, and I suspected Natalie understood what I wasn’t saying. I loved Trey. Maybe it was loving him that was making me so adventurous and bold everywhere else in my life. Wise or not, love made you feel like taking risks.

  “So just try to have fun tonight.” Natalie set her glass of wine down on a hallway buffet table and limped over to me with the help of a crutch. “Just because you’re thinking of it as a ‘make or break’ night doesn’t mean he is.”

  She gave me a quick hug while I tried to pull myself together.

  “Okay,” I agreed, just as my doorbell rang.

  Panic welled up inside me as Natalie and I exchanged a look.

  Trey was right on time. Guess I couldn’t put off my date with destiny any longer.

  * * *

  HOLLYWOOD SURE KNEW how to party.

  Two hours later, I was circulating around the pool patio at Devoe House, an L.A. home procured for the launch bash of a new film called Maybe, Baby, which seemed to be a teen-oriented flick about rich-kid excess.

  Or maybe I was blurring the lines of art and reality. Because, as I peered around the sleek pool deck of a home that had apparently once belonged to Marilyn Monroe, I saw youth, wealth and beauty everywhere I looked. This world was privilege and excess defined, right down to the tiny lobster hors d’oeuvres that I saw people take a teeny bite of and then toss.

  Were their stomachs too small for two bites? Or was tossing away half-eaten delicacies some kind of status symbol?

  “How are you doing?” Trey appeared with a drink for me.

  I’d requested a sparkling water with lemon, since I couldn’t afford to drink any alcohol when I needed to stay sharp. So far, I’d smiled a lot and spoken little. Not hard to do when Trey’s friends were all more interested in him than me. Also, I don’t think the waif-like starlets who only ate half a miniscule lobster hors d’oeuvre and draped themselves in Harry Winston’s best really saw me as competition for one of the city’s hottest bachelors.

  And yes, I was feeling a bit defensive. Thank God Natalie had loaned me a dress or I would have arrived in one of my office suits. I knew not all launch parties were this fancy, but the Maybe, Baby filmmakers had wanted to set the decadent tone for the movie.

  Trey stroked my arm lightly. “Hey? You still with me here?”

  “Uh, of course,” I almost stuttered, damn it. He’d asked me something, and do you think I could remember?

  “Are you okay?”

  Ah, right. It wasn’t like he’d asked me a mind-bender. I seriously needed to get a grip. “Great. Things are great,” I answered with a shade too much enthusiasm. “I mean, thank you for bringing me here.”

  Trey slid an arm around me and walked us over to the railing for a drop-dead gorgeous view of downtown Los Angeles winking in the distance. Here, we had a little more privacy from the crowd and a bit of quiet away from the DJ, who had set up his mixing board on a raised patio close to the house.

  Trey looked fan-freaking-tastic in a tuxedo. His classic good looks and lean muscles seemed right at home in black-tie. Silver cuff links winked in the torchlight, and he appeared as comfortable as if he wore a pair of jeans.

  “Thank you for coming with me.” Trey lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the backs of my knuckles, just like something you’d see Cary Grant do in an old film.

  I melted inside, my enjoyment of this man chasing away my worries for now.

  “But I wanted to,” I reminded him, stepping closer to the rail as a waiter brushed past with a tray of drinks. “I probably pushed too hard for an invitation. I didn’t mean to pressure you into introducing me to your work world.”

  “I’m really glad you’re with me,” he said simply. “If I’d come alone, I would have made the rounds and been out the door in forty-five minutes. Having you by my side makes me stay to appreciate the view.”

  His eyes were on me
as he spoke and my heart squeezed tight in my chest. I wondered how much longer I’d be able to keep a lock on my tender feelings for him. Even now, I wanted to blurt out that I loved him, throw my arms around his neck and hope for the best.

  “So this is your world.” I lifted my cut crystal glass in the direction of the Sunset Strip a mile and a half below us. “It’s beautiful.”

  In fact, now that I knew this man’s assets inside and out, I realized that he was surrounded by beauty everywhere he went on multiple continents. His life was one of luxury and sophistication. I’d seen it on paper, but I hadn’t felt it in my heart until we’d come here. Maybe the diamond-clad women at this party were right not to consider me real competition for Trey. Even though we stood side by side, our lives had never felt further apart.

  He clinked his glass of sparkling water against mine and turned toward me, leaning an elbow on the railing. He curved a hand around my hip to spin me around to face him.

  “I’m going to borrow your line from last night,” he said, leaning close to whisper in my ear. “I see the wheels turning in your head, Courtney. What are you thinking?”

  Before I could answer, a tall, heavyset man in an ill-fitting suit trundled over, setting his sloshing drink on the rail between us, the scent of alcohol so strong I wondered if it might burn the varnish off the wood.

  “Sorry to bother you, Trey,” he began, clapping Trey on the shoulder and giving me the vaguest nod of apology. “I really need to speak to you. You have a minute?”

  While I might not fit into this world, I read enough about it to recognize one of the most well-respected filmmakers of our time, Michael Diereda, a man who didn’t need to wear black tie to fit into this crowd. If Trey was going to start his own studio one day, he should be talking to men like this.

  “Of course,” I said, even as Trey started to say that now wasn’t a good time. “I was just about to refresh my drink,” I insisted, giving Trey a meaningful look.

  I hadn’t been kidding about my commitment to his start-up business. No matter what happened between us personally, I would root for Trey professionally. Even though the thought of losing him gave my heart a painful squeeze.

  Wending my way through a crowd that had started to swell since the DJ began playing, I entered the house through one of the many sets of open French doors. The caterers must not have needed to use the opulent kitchen I found myself in, since it was spick-and-span, a small bar set up near the long granite island.

  “Courtney Masterson?” A booming voice cut right through the party noise and stopped me in my tracks.

  Turning, I saw Thomas Fraser II with a small entourage. Trey’s father wore a tuxedo jacket and white silk shirt but no tie, and his white hair was slicked back for the occasion. A stunning Bollywood starlet with inky dark hair and a tiny silver cocktail dress had one arm wrapped possessively around the producer’s elbow, while several other men and women seemed to circle him like so many constellations around a bigger planet.

  Self-consciously, I patted my hair. The last time this man had seen me, I’d been wearing a blond wig and a mask. How had he recognized me?

  “Hello, Mr. Fraser.” I offered him my hand the way I would a business acquaintance, but he kissed the back of my fingers in a gesture that perfectly mirrored his son’s.

  I wondered if Trey was aware how similar their mannerisms were. He possessed the same vitality and charisma that his father did. Maybe those similarities were part of the reason they butted heads so often.

  “I’m glad you talked Trey into bringing you here tonight.” He smiled and gave a subtle gesture to his followers to make themselves scarce. They melted into the crowd, leaving us alone by a wall of windows looking out onto the patio dotted with torches and now overflowing with guests.

  “How did you recognize me, Mr. Fraser?” I cut straight to the point, wanting to make sure I understood his motives. Had he wanted me here tonight just so he could call me out as a liar?

  “I keep tabs on my son,” he said, tilting his chin up with pride. “He’s been restless and angry with me. I worried he would make a hasty business decision that he would regret just because he was upset. So I’ve monitored his recent business dealings. And I’ve had one of my former security people quietly keeping an eye out for him.”

  “You mean...” I let go of his arm, not trusting him. “Are you saying you’ve had someone following Trey?”

  “Not all the time.” His chest puffed up in self-defense. “Just enough to find out he wants to open his own film studio to compete with me and that he’s dating a buttoned-up financial researcher who lets her hair down by moonlighting as a...dancer.”

  Perhaps I should have felt threatened. He knew information I’d been trying to keep secret. He had the power to get me fired. But all I could think of was Trey and how much this would hurt him. Couldn’t his father see the way his actions alienated his son? I suddenly spotted Trey, seated at a table by the pool with the famous director. As if aware I was looking at him, he turned toward the house suddenly.

  The lights were all on in the kitchen, which was slightly elevated above the crowded patio, so he must be able to see me as well as I could see him. Even from this distance, I picked up on the tension in his body language as he rose from his seat.

  He must have noticed his father talking to me and was probably headed straight toward us.

  “Mr. Fraser,” I laid a hand on the older man’s arm to draw his attention. “You seem like a man who loves your son.”

  “He is my flesh and blood,” he said with a low fierceness. “I’ve given him everything.”

  “Not your acceptance.” Why should I mince words with someone who set new records for hard-headedness? Thank goodness my father and I had worked out some kind of peaceful relationship over the years. “And not your faith in his business sense. You undermine him publicly.”

  If there’d been any chance the elder Fraser would keep my dancing a secret from my employer, I was surely blowing it now. But someone needed to make Thomas Fraser see he didn’t always know best. Trey had helped me find my confidence—my voice. I planned to use it now to help him, even if that meant standing up to his imposing dad.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The older man’s smile held an outward semblance of manners. Too bad the throbbing in his temple told me he was seconds away from blowing a gasket.

  “Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I care enough about your son not to pull punches. I want him to be happy. If only you could—”

  “I don’t need advice about my son from an outsider,” he hissed, stepping away from my touch. Several curious stares turned our way.

  “No.” I shook my head, extra quiet in the hope it would bring his voice down a notch. “I’m not an outsider, Mr. Fraser. But you will become an outcast in your own family if you can’t see the way—”

  “Utter horseshit, my dear,” he said with the withering condescension that had made him a force to be feared in this town. He didn’t need to shout. His anger iced the air until the almost fifty people milling around the bar went dead silent.

  All staring.

  At me.

  Great.

  He tipped his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “What do you know of a parent’s love? Your own mother doesn’t even speak to you.”

  I wasn’t sure how he knew this about me—it was only partially true—but apparently he’d done a bit of digging. As a researcher, I understood the need for information, so I didn’t begrudge him this. It was a low blow, yes. But I saw it for what it was—the weak, tangential argument of a man who didn’t have a leg to stand on in a logical debate. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance to swoop in for the kill in this rhetorical battle because Trey had arrived in the kitchen just in time to hear his father yell at me.

  And he did not look pleased. He barreled through the curious, still painfully silent crowd to stand between us, chest-to-chest with Thomas.

  “Enough, Dad,” he bit out ang
rily. “Stay away from Courtney.”

  The tension in the room was so thick it was worthy of a scene in one of their films. I might have appreciated the irony if my heart hadn’t been aching for Trey.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, hoping my meaningful look could communicate the need for public discretion. “We were just going to step outside to talk.”

  I glanced back and forth from one set of dark, brooding eyes to the other. Neither man seemed inclined to follow my diplomatic nudge.

  “Trey?” I appealed to the Fraser I trusted. The one who had given me the courage to jump into the fray in the first place. “Trust me. I’ve got this.”

  And I did. How crazy was that? Thomas Fraser—the bear of the movie business—had unleashed his cool wrath on me and I hadn’t stuttered even once.

  In fact, I wanted a chance to finish what I’d started with Trey’s father. A chance to break through that blustery exterior to the deep love I suspected was suppressed underneath. Couldn’t he hear the steadiness in my voice?

  Trey’s jaw flexed as he leaned closer to his father. “If you come near her again, or threaten her livelihood in any way because of her dancing—”

  He broke off midsentence, perhaps realizing he’d been about to publicly out me in front of a rapt crowd. Maybe he already had. I would bet I’d be the girl most often looked up on Google in Hollywood after tonight’s scene.

  How could he do that to me? He’d promised to keep my secret. Betrayal pinched inside me even though I knew his father brought out the worst in him. Kind of like the way my mom used to pull out the worst in me. But I was done living in the shadow of parents. His. Mine. I was done.

  “Maybe we should take this discussion somewhere private,” I urged. Neither of them so much as looked at me. They were locked in some kind of father-son struggle for dominance and I might as well have been invisible. And if I’d learned nothing else this past week, I totally understood I would never again allow myself to be invisible. A bit more forcefully, I said, “Or maybe I should just go.”