Hollywood Nights

by Sara Celi

  I pulled away. Someone had to stay in control.

  “Goodnight, Tanner.”

  “Wait—what?” He still sounded drunk.

  “Get some sleep,” I said.

  Then I walked out of the bedroom and flipped off the light before I closed the door behind me.

  When I got back inside the pool house, I threw myself on the bed and tried in vain to take my own advice. Instead, I stared at the ceiling. Thoughts of Tanner Vance, his problems, his drinking, and my own confusion tumbled through my head for the rest of the night.

  I’d had quite a few monster hangovers in my day after nights of blackout drinking, but this one went straight to the top ten. I woke up the next day on top of my bed, still in my clothes, and with not much more than a vague memory of the night before. That was bad. A vague memory meant maybe I had gone too far, despite my best efforts and the demons of my past.

  I rolled over in bed and cursed.

  Once again, I’d been stupid. I knew it. Make this night one thousand for me when it came to idiotic behavior. I cursed again. My wristwatch read 8:49 a.m. Not bad. At least I still had most of the morning ahead of me. Maybe I’d be able to salvage the rest of the day.

  After I showered, shaved, and changed into a pair of Adidas pants and a loose white T-shirt, I shuffled downstairs toward the kitchen in search of more water and a smoothie. I found Brynn sitting at the bar with a book in one hand and a tall glass of orange juice in the other.

  She looked up from the pages when I walked in the room, and she had an unreadable expression on her face. “Oh, hi, Tanner.”

  I stopped short. “How’d you get in here?”

  “I still have your keys from last night.”

  “Ugh. Last night.” I shut my eye and groaned. “Remind me to give you an extra set.” I opened my eyes again. “How are you doing today?”

  Last night needed an explanation, but I had no clue what to say to this woman.

  “Glad to see you’re up.” Brynn turned back to the book and flipped a page. “Martha called earlier. She’s sick.”

  “She is?”

  Brynn gave me a curt nod.

  She was mad at me, and she had a right to be. Unlike the night when I woke up hung over and confused in her apartment, I actually remembered most of the ugly details from the night before. They rattled around in my head as I struggled to make sense of where I’d once again lost control, and after a few moments, I strung most of the night together.

  It wasn’t pretty.

  After the lunch with Kenneth, I met Owen for that pool party on the rooftop of Hotel Le Rose. It had been fine for a few hours, and had a few hotties in attendance, but had Lana shown up to the party after dusk.

  Fucking Lana.

  She had Harper on her arm, the model she dropped me for when she came out as bisexual on LA Stands for Lana. The night had gone pear-shaped after they arrived. Even Owen had known things would get bad.

  “Dude,” he’d said to me almost as soon as they arrived. “I had no idea they were on this guest list. I wouldn’t have invited you—”

  “I’m fine,” I’d lied. “But I need another drink.”

  Drinking always helped me. Always. Life felt better from a constant state of haze. Owen had ordered bottle service. Good man.

  Harper and Lana wouldn’t leave each other’s side, and it had seemed like anytime I glanced over at them, they proceeded to make out so I would notice. I’d ordered more drinks to blot it all out. I’d floated in and out of reality, and things grew more distorted from there. At some point, Harper and Lana got into a loud fight, Owen had left, and Harper had stormed out with a DJ I’d met a few times from the club scene.

  A few hours later, I’d woken up alone and sober in one of Le Rose’s hotel rooms, a few steps away from the entrance to the rooftop pool. It was only eleven, so I’d stopped at Polo Lounge to take the edge off before I drove back to Mulholland.

  And one drink there had turned into three…

  I opened the refrigerator and tried to put the rest of it out of my mind. I couldn’t. I hadn’t screwed up last night. I had fucked up. I might have done irreparable damage to whatever was happening between me and Brynn.

  Goddamn it.

  “There’s fresh water in the Brita,” Brynn said, while I rooted through the appliance. “You probably should drink a few glasses.”

  “Thanks.”

  I pulled the jug out of the fridge and turned back to her. Other memories from the previous night sharpened in my mind. We’d kissed last night, and I’d liked it. I’d liked it a lot. I wasn’t sure who’d started it, but I hadn’t wanted it to stop.

  More than that, I had to admit to myself I’d been thinking about kissing her rosebud mouth on and off since the morning in her apartment. Standing there in the kitchen, I wanted to kiss her again.

  Really, I wanted to do more than kiss her. I wanted to shove her against the refrigerator and claim her with my mouth. I wanted to hear her moan my name. And more than anything, I wanted to make her feel what I was feeling.

  “About last night,” I said, struggling to stay in control. “If you think—”

  “Nothing happened. Last night wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Yes, it was. I remember it.” I paused. “And I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t mention it.” She put the book down on the counter and narrowed her eyes at me. “You were drunk, and you lost control. You’ve got to get ahold of yourself, you know? You are your own worst enemy.”

  I found a glass in the cupboard, and I poured some water into it. “People have told me before.”

  “They’re trying to take care of you.”

  “Pfft.” I drank from the glass. “They don’t give a fuck about me, I promise.”

  She threw her book onto the counter. “Listen, I don’t know what you think this job between us entails, but I need to make something clear right now. If you think I’m going to babysit you when we’re not in public, you’re wrong. That’s something I won’t do.” She stood up from the barstool. “You can get someone else to do that job. It won’t be me. I don’t care how much money it is. I’m not going down this road again.”

  “What do you mean, ‘down this road’?”

  Her jaw hardened, and she frowned. “When I was a kid, my dad loved scotch on the rocks more than he loved me. It was just the two of us—Mom left when I was little. When I was a teenager, I had to pick him up at the bar whenever he was too far gone to drive.” She glanced down at the floor. “He made lots of attempts at AA. None of them took.”

  I stood with the cup in my hand, listening.

  “And so, I’ve been thinking. I won’t do this—job—unless you stop drinking.” She set her jaw. “Now. Today. Right now.”

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll quit. Walk out. This won’t happen, and you can keep your money. You’ll need it in order to lure someone else.” She paused. “One of those Playboy bunnies?”

  “But you signed a contract.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care. You can sue me. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

  I swallowed. I must have spiraled out of control the night before. Maybe she was right. In the few months since Lana had left me, most of my life had been lived in an alcohol-aided fog. There’d been a few blackout nights and plenty more fuzzy days. Craig and Roberta had brought up the drinking too, a few weeks earlier, but I’d dismissed their concerns.

  “I said I’m sorry about last night.”

  “Saying you’re sorry isn’t enough. Show me.”

  I braced myself against the marble counter. “Maybe you’re right. I need to quit drinking so much.”

  “Oh, I know I’m right.” She walked a few steps toward the sliding glass door and the pool. “And by the way, all of this drinking isn’t helping you remake that precious reputation of yours. It’s making it worse.” Brynn rubbed her forehead. “I’m willing to give you another chance, but only one more. If I find you drunk like that again, then I’m out of here. No
questions asked. You will never see me again. Ever.”

  “Ever?”

  “Don’t push me.”

  “Okay.” I nodded at her. “Fair enough.”

  “Like I said, I have more experience with drunks than I want to admit.” She sighed. “And I’m sick and tired of it. That was part of my life in Ohio, but not here. So, those are my terms. Get drunk like that one more time, and I’m out of here for good.”

  She opened the glass door and left the kitchen. I watched her saunter across the pool deck and disappear into the pool house. Her ass made a small shake when she walked, but when I couldn’t see her anymore, I reminded myself of what she said. I’d been using alcohol as a crutch, and she was right. And that wasn’t the only thing that stood out to me. I liked her.

  A lot.

  I needed to make up for what I’d done the night before. I owed her that, and we both knew it. Resolved, I walked across the property and banged on the pool house door. “You win,” I told her when she yanked it open. “I’ll cut back on the drinking. Today.”

  “Good.”

  “And I’m wondering about something,” I said, halfway making this up as I spoke. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

  “I don’t know.” She threw up a hand. “I was thinking about going for a run on the Strand. Otherwise, I don’t have any real plans.”

  “Good.” I glanced down at my watch. “Plenty of time.”

  “For what? Picking up your car? It should still be at the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

  “After we get it. What are you doing then?”

  “Nothing, I suppose.”

  I grinned. “Can you be ready in forty-five minutes? And you’ll need to pack an overnight bag, because I want to take you somewhere.”

  Close to four hours later, Tanner slowed his Acura down in front of a small gravel road and a large wooden sign reading “Avalon Winery, Lodge and Spa.” He flipped the turn signal on the car, and I put my hand on his arm.

  “Is this the same winery as the label on that Pinot grigio you served me the first night you had me over for dinner?”

  He nodded. “Not much gets by you, does it?”

  “You said this was your favorite place outside of Solvang.”

  “It is.” He grinned.

  Tanner drove the car down the winding driveway and parked it on the lot in front of a large stucco building with a circular drive that overlooked a small grove of fruit trees. Wide double doors opened up to a large outdoor terrace full of people enjoying an afternoon at the winery. He turned off the car’s engine.

  “I’m a silent partner in the place. This is my family’s winery,” he said, after he opened the driver’s side door.

  I cocked my head. “It is?”

  “We’ve owned it for a few years.” He stepped out of the car. “You don’t know everything about me, Brynn, no matter how much you think you found out by snooping around my house the other day.”

  My cheeks heated. “You know about that?”

  He braced his hand on the top of the car and leaned halfway back inside. “I have cameras all over my house as part of the security system. So yes, I know about it.”

  “I guess this means I should replace the diamond Rolex.” One of my eyebrows crept upward.

  “I don’t own any Rolexes. Prefer Omegas.” He tapped the top of the car. “Come on. Let me give you a tour.”

  The main building at Avalon featured a large dining room, tasting room and gift shop, with a small bed and breakfast in the back. When we walked in the front door, a loud exclamation came from behind the reception desk, and seconds later, a short redheaded woman in a maroon polo shirt ran up to Tanner.

  “Ohmygod! What are you doing here?” she said in a high-pitched voice as she wrapped Tanner in a large bear hug. “You didn’t tell us you were coming!”

  “Well, it would be more fun to surprise you,” he said, laughing as they hugged. “Did it work?”

  “Yes,” she said into his shoulder. “But I’m still pissed we haven’t seen you for almost a year.”

  Tanner pulled away from her. “I know. My fault.”

  “Are you guys staying the night? You have to stay. We have a new chef and he makes amazing waffles.”

  Tanner gave me a sideways glance. “We’re staying.”

  “Good. You know, Mom’s been worried,” the woman said. “Especially ever since—”

  “Do we have to talk about this right now?” Tanner raised his eyebrow at the woman and then turned to me. “Brynn Price, this is Grace. My sister.”

  We greeted each other, and when she took my hand, her eyes locked with mine. “So you’re the new girl in his life? How long has this been going on? Do you like him? How did you two meet? Are you an actress? You look like an actress.” Her brow furrowed. “Or maybe TV. Are you a TV news anchor?”

  I glanced at Tanner. Was this part of the act? Did he want to me to revert into some canned answers? I didn’t know because we hadn’t discussed it on the car ride up to Avalon. “Well, I’m—”

  “Grace, come on,” Tanner said. “Good grief, she’s my guest. You don’t have to pepper her with twenty questions in the first five minutes.”

  “It’s okay,” I said to both of them, then focused back on Grace. “Yes, I’m the new girl. The new girlfriend, if you want to call me that. And I’m an actress. Sometimes. When I get work.”

  “I knew you resembled the woman I saw the other day on Gratify’s website,” she said. “But you’re prettier in person.” She motioned at both of us. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

  Avalon had 150 acres of vines and orchards, an expansive view of the valley, and an award-winning Chardonnay Wine Spectator had called the best in California. As we wound our way through the property, Grace shared the family history: Their paternal grandfather’s family had a vineyard in northern California they lost during the economic downturn of the early 1970s, and then some of the family had moved to Solvang and central California for better opportunities. Tanner’s parents saved for years to buy another vineyard, but never could cobble together enough money.

  Then Tanner moved to Hollywood and landed the starring role on Regent within his first month of living in Los Angeles.

  “It didn’t pay much the first season, but when my agent negotiated the contract my second year, I tripled my salary,” Tanner said, as we walked into the main tasting room. A few patrons stood at a long mahogany counter sampling wines, and a few of them glanced in our direction, telltale expressions of recognition on their faces. “It was enough to make up the rest of the down payment.”

  “Mom and Dad still want to pay you back. They said something about it a few weeks back,” Grace said. “And they’re going to be devastated you came to visit the weekend they were on their Alaskan cruise.”

  “Sometimes, you need to get away.” Tanner shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t live in LA. If you did, you’d get it.”

  “It can be stifling,” I said, taking a step closer to Tanner. “A lot of sunshine and fresh air, but everything can seem so stale.”

  “You know you can move here whenever you want to,” Grace said to Tanner. “We have more than enough room.”

  “But who would I be if—” Tanner broke off. “Never mind.” His face brightened. “Anyway, the place looks good. Glad to see it.”

  “We’ve done well here,” Grace said to me. “Can’t complain.” She walked to the opposite side of the counter. “Would you like to sample something? We have a new Chardonnay you have to try.”

  I requested a glass of it, and when she turned her attention to Tanner, he waved her away.

  “Nothing for me,” he said and then turned back to me. “See? I was serious about what I said this morning. No more drinking.”

  “It’s not the drinking that’s the problem—it’s your self-control.” I studied him. “But I’m impressed.”

  “Good. Consider this a new way of thinking, thanks to better people in my life.”

  My stom
ach flipped as our eyes locked. He had to mean me. Of all people—me. Some nobody from nowhere Ohio. A girl who’d been on the edge of desperation a few days before.

  “I can’t believe you’re part owner of a winery,” I said under my breath as Grace strode away.

  “Because you didn’t read that little tidbit about me in Chat?” One side of his mouth turned up and his opposite eyebrow raised. “Parts of me are still private, believe it or not.”

  “I like those parts,” I said. “The things no one sees.”

  His gaze floated down to the pockmarked wood of the counter. “There’s not much left, I’m afraid. That’s the thing about fame. It brings you a lot, but everything has a cost. More than most people realize.”

  I started to answer, but then Grace arrived with my tasting glass. “Here you are.” She placed it in front of me. “And if you like it, then we’ll make sure you head home with a few bottles.”

  Tanner got a sideways glance from me. “I guess it pays to know the owner, doesn’t it?”

  The Chardonnay had a crisp, fruity, clear taste with hints of honey and pear. It slid down my throat, and when I put the glass down on the counter, I had to agree with Grace and Tanner. It would satisfy the pickiest palate.

  “This is amazing,” I said. “What’s it called?”

  “The label doesn’t have a name yet,” Tanner said, after staring at me in silence for a long time. “We haven’t found one that fits.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No,” he said. “But I’m hoping that will change soon.”

  “Here you go,” I said as I led Brynn down the wide hallway of the lodge. “Room 236. All yours.” I swiped the key through the lock and opened the door to a large room with a king-sized bed, light blue décor, a huge Tyler Shields original photograph on the wall behind the headboard, and a sweeping view of the vineyard, which looked like a painting thanks to the setting afternoon sun. Behind me, Brynn gasped.