Hollywood Nights

by Sara Celi

  “Stop, Brynn. You’re overreacting.” He settled farther into the chair. “Whatever’s going on with La—some woman doesn’t concern either of us. I haven’t had any real contact with her in weeks, since—since”—he cleared his throat—“right before I met you, and I don’t plan on doing so it anytime soon. She’s not someone I want to waste my time on, and I hope you don’t, either.”

  “But she’s so famous. She’s everywhere.”

  “She doesn’t rule Hollywood. She’s on a reality show, and she’s a failed model. The biggest thing she ever did before she got that show was a Super Bowl commercial for Pepsi.” He frowned again, as if cataloguing all of Lana’s faults. “I’m tired of this woman. I’ve moved on—to you. I don’t plan on going backward.”

  “I wish you could have heard what they were talking about,” I said, halfway under my breath. “They had this tone. Something was definitely up.”

  “I don’t need to hear what they said to know what they’re like. And that’s all in the past.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” I swallowed hard and shook my head at him. “I’ll stop thinking about her.”

  I woke up sweating, and twisted covers snaked around my body. In my dream, I’d screamed and fallen, but whatever came after was all a fog of blurred thoughts. Why? What had gone wrong? My eyes focused on the ceiling and then on her.

  Brynn. The one good, solid, smart part of my day.

  She hadn’t woken. She hadn’t stirred. I listened to her steady breaths as I tried to figure out what bothered me, but goddamn it, I couldn’t get through it. I couldn’t shake the uneasiness that pricked my skin and tightened my chest. After a while, I rolled over and pulled her closer to me. She molded herself to my body, but she still didn’t wake.

  I was lucky. Damn lucky. And I knew it. She’d been in my life for less than two months, but some things didn’t need a lot of time. Some things fell together, sticking like magnets. Our relationship was one of those, and as I held onto her in the darkness, I knew I didn’t want anyone else and I never would. Brynn Price wasn’t the best thing that had happened to my month or my year.

  She was the best thing that had happened to my life.

  Christ, I was such a goner. Slayed. Destroyed. And all because of one night in a parking lot.

  Around two thirty, Brynn moved against my chest and finally woke. She mumbled something against my shoulder, and I decided to seize the moment. Who cared about sleep? Around her, I didn’t need much of it.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” I whispered in her ear. She shivered at the sound of my voice.

  I rolled her over on the bed, and moved down her naked body, taking the sheets with me. I kissed her stomach and found the apex of her thighs. She moaned when I kissed her pussy, and the sound made me harden with desire. I licked and sucked the soft folds of her deepest place, relishing the moment as I built her excitement. My tongue worked over her body, and before long she was slick and ready for me.

  “You like when I tease you?” I said against the soft folds of her skin.

  “Don’t stop,” she murmured. “Please, don’t stop, Tanner.”

  I decided I wouldn’t make her wait. I took a condom from my stash, put it on, and then plunged inside of her. The force shook her and she cried out, and then begged for more. I kissed her lips as I moved, taking our bodies to new heights. As the bed creaked, we moved to a new place, and when we couldn’t stand it any longer, we came together before the darkest hour of the night.

  It was raw. Real. True. Lying in the bed with her, I was naked and exposed. I loved every moment of it.

  I might have even loved her.

  Holy fuck.

  “Have a seat right there, darling.” Kenneth motioned to the yellow rattan chair in the rented garden cottage on at the Chateau Marmont. I followed his lead and took a seat, my heart still pounding from the shoot we’d completed by the hotel’s famous pool. “I love what they did with you. So gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.”

  I looked down at the bathrobe, a large kimono-style one with red silk flowers. Underneath, I wore a black one-piece swimsuit with lace strings up and down the sides. Tall wedges with cork heels, red lipstick, waterproof mascara, and wet hair completed the old-glamour-meets-new vibe the stylist had called a “glam slam.” The photographer hired by Rockchick Mag had seemed pleased. He’d insisted on taking extra shots of me because he liked the way the sunlight reflected off my hair and the pool.

  “You’re not nervous, are you? Need a Valium? Some vodka?” Kenneth patted his messenger bag as he sat down on the couch next to my chair. “I have both.”

  I shook my head. “I’m glad you came. Don’t think I’ve had a chance to tell you.”

  “You might not say so when you get my bill.” He winked. “Now, remember what we talked about. All you have to do is be engaging and inviting. An every-girl-can-make-it-in-LA type. Easy, honey.”

  “I’ve got this. I promise.”

  “This won’t take longer than a half hour or so.” Kenneth looked at his oversized wristwatch. “These things never do.”

  I took a cold-pressed orange juice off the coffee table and drank some of it. A moment later, one of the writers for Rockchick swept into the room. Red and blue chalky streaks offset her black hair, and she pushed her thin tortoiseshell glasses up her nose.

  “So great of you to meet us for this interview, Brynn,” she said as she shook my hand and took a seat in the open yellow chair. “I’m Dylanne James, and I’m a writer for Rockchick. I’ve been there for about seven years.”

  The small -talk extended for the next few minutes. Nothing special. She made a few jokes, I laughed when appropriate; she asked about my background, growing up in Griffin, and how I came to LA. I gave a few standard answers I was sure most people would have said. Then she turned the conversation to Tanner.

  “You all seem so happy,” she said, opening up the manila file folder she’d taken out of her tote bag at the beginning of our interview. “Tell me what it is you like about your relationship.”

  “We get along great.” I sipped some more of the juice. “It’s so natural. Everything fits. It’s like we’ve always been friends.”

  “Tanner doesn’t have many friends.”

  “What?” I frowned at Dylanne. “What do you mean?”

  “He just has a reputation in this town.” She shifted in her seat, then uncrossed and crossed her legs. “Lots of people know him, but no one knows him.”

  “I think I do. He’s a good man. Probably the best thing that has happened to me since I moved to LA.”

  Dylanne scribbled a few phrases into her notebook. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenneth lift his chin in approval. I was nailing this interview. Killing it. Well on the way to the title of America’s Favorite New Girlfriend.

  “This can be a tough town,” Dylanne said. “But I’m surprised to hear you say something like so complimentary about a player like Tanner Vance.”

  “I wouldn’t call him a player,” I said, thinking about the person I’d gotten to know over the previous weeks. “More like misunderstood. Not many people see the real him.”

  She snorted. “An interesting way to put it.”

  “What do you mean interesting?” I looked over at Kenneth. Did he have any clue what she meant?

  She leaned over her folder. “Well, I mean an interesting statement, given all that has developed with Lana in the last few hours.”

  “Lana?” I turned my head. Perhaps I hadn’t heard her correctly. “What’s Lana got to do with anything?”

  “Oh, this is rich.” Dylanne moved to the edge of the chair and licked her lips. She was enjoying this. “I was hoping you would’ve had an answer like that.”

  Kenneth had gone pale; his eyes had widened. He moved to the edge of the couch. “This topic isn’t up for discussion,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your editors promised. I have it in writing. In writing.”

  She shrugged. “Silly me.”

  “I’ll
sue your magazine for breach of contract,” Kenneth said. “This isn’t what we agreed to talk about, and you know it. My firm has an attorney on retainer who’d love to hear about this.”

  “Idle threats,” Dylanne said, meeting Kenneth’s hard glare. “You don’t have a case, and you know it. This is a free press and I can ask any questions I want. Besides, I never signed the agreement, so I don’t know what you’re talking about. They sent me over here to do the interview, and I thought everything would naturally be on the table.”

  “What’s on the table?” I said, my voice verging on the edge of a yell. “Tell me right now. What are you hiding?”

  Dylanne turned to me. “What a shame. You sound like you really don’t know.”

  “I don’t.” I glanced back and forth between the two of them. “So tell me. Now.”

  Silence hung in the air.

  “I hate to be the one to break it to you,” Dylanne said, “but Lana’s pregnant.” A pause. “And she says the child is Tanner’s. It’s all over the Internet. She broke the news on Instagram last night. Posted a sonogram photo and tagged Tanner’s account. It’s the biggest story in Hollywood right now.”

  “Brynn, stop! You don’t—let me explain!” Kenneth said, scrambling after me as I gathered my things from the suite. “You have to—”

  “What?” I said as I opened the door of the room. “I’m leaving. This interview is over.”

  “Please, take a moment to be reasonable.”

  I turned back as Kenneth reached out to me, but then his hand fell limp at his side. Behind him, Dylanne still sat in her chair, scribbling God-knew-what into her notebook. This confrontation would likely find its way into the article for Rockchick. Not that I cared.

  “I can’t believe you know about this and didn’t say anything to me,” I said, as I hoisted my purse onto my shoulder. “You left a huge landmine out there for me to step right on it.”

  “We had an agreement. She violated it.”

  “Tanner said you’re one person he trusts out here,” I said. “He said you’re good at your job.” I laughed without humor. “You’re horrible at it.”

  Kenneth shoved his hand through his thick hair. “I didn’t say anything to you because it’s not confirmed. We don’t know Lana is pregnant for sure. All we have is a goddamn Instagram post.”

  I jerked my head in Dylanne’s direction. She stared at the both of us, taking in every word we said. “Good enough for her.”

  “The pic showed the baby bump,” Dylanne said. “Looked pretty legit to me.”

  Kenneth raised a hand to shut her up. “Thanks. That’s enough right now, okay? You’ve done enough damage for the day.”

  “And on that note, I’m out of here,” I said. “Fuck this. Fuck all of this.”

  In truth, though, I didn’t know what to do. What to think. How to react. What to say. As I drove home from the Chateau Marmont; I tried process what I’d learned, but it wouldn’t compute. It couldn’t be true. No way. I wasn’t living this nightmare, was I?

  Lana had to be lying, right? It didn’t matter I’d never met her; I knew the lengths she’d go to because of the way she acted on that godforsaken show of hers. She’d made a fortune playing a bitch-villain on a reality-TV show, then parlayed into endorsement deals, photo spreads, a makeup line, and more. Didn’t it make sense she’d be a heinous, lying, devious person in real life?

  The light changed, and I slowed down the Acura. Only then did I realize I still wore the swimsuit, wedges, and thin robe. I hadn’t paid for any of them. Too bad. Too fucking bad. Kenneth could clean up the mess. Would give him something to do.

  A few minutes of angry driving brought me to the house on Mulholland Drive. The town car sat in the driveway, so I knew Tanner was home. I parked the Acura next to it and took a few long, deep breaths.

  “Tanner, are you upstairs?” I yelled as I walked through the front door of the house. “Tanner!” I slammed the door. “Tanner, we need to talk right now! Now!”

  “Jesus.” A thick, sultry female voice floated through the kitchen and down the hallway to the foyer. The owner of the voice didn’t hide how much she enjoyed hearing me thrash around. “You need to calm down. Not a good look. You already have so little going for you.”

  I gulped. Lana. Of all people in this world. Fucking Lana. And right inside this house, waiting for me. I found her standing behind the island in the kitchen as if she owned it and the rest of the house, as if she had never left.

  “Tanner’s upstairs,” she said, her voice steady and one hand on her hip. “I think he was asleep, but I’m sure your yelling woke him up.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Visiting my boyfriend, of course.”

  I eyed her. “He’s not your boyfriend, Lana.”

  “He isn’t?” She laughed. “We’ve had our differences in the past. I’ll admit it. But I always knew Tanner and I would eventually work things out and be together. And now, well, now he won’t ever leave me.”

  There it was. Control. She had control. This bitch had the upper hand in this situation, and she liked it. My anger threatened to explode out of every cell in my body.

  “You’re lying,” I said. “Your baby is not his.”

  Lana patted her stomach, acting as if what I said didn’t bother her. “I guess you’ve heard the good news.”

  She wasn’t showing yet; I wouldn’t have noticed the pregnancy if I hadn’t heard about it back at the Chateau Marmont. As she rubbed her hand back and forth across her stomach, I wanted to throw up.

  “Tanner!” I called again. My God, why hadn’t he come downstairs yet? I had to talk to him, not her. He’d have some kind of explanation for this. He had to.

  “Of course, he was shocked.” Lana folded her arms across her body. “We all were. Me especially. I thought we’d been so careful a few weeks ago”—a small, vicious smile spread across her lips—“but you know, Tanner and I have always had such a complicated relationship. One of those legendary romances. We’ll never be fully done. Never. No matter what happens, we’ll always come back to each other.”

  “What do you mean a few weeks ago?” I said. “When did this happen?”

  She cocked her head, staring at me and enjoying this torture to its fullest extent. “Oh… one night after a party at the Hotel Le Rose. Dropped him off at the Polo Lounge afterward. He was blitzed out of his mind, and I was, too, but honestly, it was meant to be. We reconnected.”

  Her words smacked right into me, almost a knockout punch of information. Of course I remembered—how would I forget it? Tanner had been so drunk and so out of control. When I’d picked him up, I’d been furious with him. He’d slept with her?

  It couldn’t be true. No way. She had to be making up this as she went along.

  “But Tanner told me you guys were over a long time ago.” My cheeks heated up as I grew angrier and more desperate. “He said he didn’t think about you anymore. That he hadn’t seen you in weeks.”

  “Well, he did. And it was one of the best nights of my life.”

  “He couldn’t have slept with you.” Blood flushed my cheeks. “He didn’t.”

  Lana leaned against the cooking island. “You sure?”

  I wasn’t.

  “Listen, honey, I’m the love of Tanner’s life,” she said. “I always have been. And now, we’ll be together forever.”

  The woman had one of those pointy Cheshire cat faces. Cartoonish, in a way. Bizarro Jessica Rabbit baked in California sunshine and coated with plastic. On the surface, it might have been beautiful, but whatever natural beauty she possessed had drowned long ago in a sea of injections, Botox, fillers, and dermabrasion. Her skin had a filmy sheen that glossed over it, and it made her blatant lack of reaction to everything I said even creepier.

  “I’ve made mistakes.” Lana gestured with her hand as if to dismiss all of her past. “I don’t always do the right thing, but Tanner knows, and he always forgives me. Always.”

  “What about y
our new girlfriend?” I said, my mind racing through all of the little things I knew about Lana. “What’s her name? Harper? What about her?”

  “That was nothing, and it’s over now.” Lana nodded at the staircase, still calm and collected. “Go ask Tanner about us, if you don’t believe me. Find out the truth. I guess, in a way, you deserve to know.”

  “Screw you,” I said. “Fuck you.”

  “Poor girl. It must be so hard to hear this.” Fake pity dripped in between Lana’s words.

  “You’re insane,” I said. “And I know you’re making all of this up.”

  I followed her orders and raced up the winding staircase to the second floor. When I got to the landing, I breathed a little bit easier. At least I didn’t have that woman breathing in my face anymore.

  “Tanner. Are you up here? Lana said you…”

  I wound my way down the hallway and into his bedroom. What I saw made me stop cold at the doorframe. It also made me want to throw up everything that remained in my stomach and then break a few things. Maybe everything.

  Tanner lay across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He splayed his arms and legs wide so his whole body covered the middle of it. His mouth hung open, and his chest rose and fell in noisy breaths. He wore a pair of black track pants and a vintage blue T-shirt. From the doorway, I had a clear view of his bloodshot eyes and the almost empty, large bottle of vodka that teetered near the edge of his nightstand.

  “What the hell?” I said. “What is this? Are you drunk?”

  No reply.

  “Tanner! Talk to me. Right now.”

  He turned to me, as if he hadn’t heard me. “Oh, hey, Brynn.”

  “Hey?”

  “Yeah, hey.” Tanner smiled at me, loopy and foolish, as if he didn’t have much to worry about. I didn’t smile back.

  “Why have you been drinking?” I said instead. This question had an obvious answer, but I asked it anyway. Something inside me needed to hear him admit it, and when he grunted an inaudible reply, I almost launched my purse at his head. “This is ridiculous and not how you deal with problems.”