Faking It

by Christina Ross

  I’d told him what it had been like growing up in Dubuque—and how badly I’d wanted to get out so I could see the world. He’d told me what it had been like growing up in the city, how he’d landed his first acting job, and what it had been like when fame first touched him—and what fame felt like now. As time passed and we came to trust one another, we talked about men, from my ruinous relationship with Eric to his dream of one day being able to be open with his sexuality and maybe even find love himself.

  “Do you think you’ll ever come out?” I’d asked him one night.

  “I don’t know,” he’d said. “I’d like to, but it won’t be for a while, Sienna. If ever.”

  “But that’s so sad,” I’d said. “You deserve to be who you are and find a man you want to share your life with. Times have changed. Many celebrities have come out, and for the most part, their careers have actually spiked because people have evolved.”

  When I’d said that, he’d just looked at me.

  “Name one action star who has come out of the closet, Sienna. Just one. I’m friends with a few major action stars who are gay, and none of them dare come out. Like me, they understand the ramifications.”

  I couldn’t name one person, which saddened me.

  “So, you see?” he’d said. “I’m fucked. The public will accept an Ellen and a Neil Patrick Harris because they’re charming and funny, but since my career has long been defined by this ultrabutch male stereotype, coming out isn’t in the cards for me—at least not if I want to continue to have a career, which I do. Because I love what I do. And I’m only thirty-five, for Christ’s sake. I want to keep working and creating. So, when it comes to finding real love, I think that’s out of the question for me now. Will it come later in life? I don’t know. Because I also need to think of my legacy. How will I be remembered when I’m dead? Will it be for the body of work I’ve created? Or if I came out, would it be for the fact that I lived a lie? I think it would be the latter. And I hate it. Trust me, I wish there was something I could do about it, but there isn’t. So, here I sit next to you tonight—a man actively living a lie. But if I want to continue to perform in these kinds of action roles that I love doing, I seriously don’t think I have any choice but to do just that.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I’d said.

  “Same here.”

  It was because of the friendship building between us that it became easier to fool the press whenever Jackson kissed me, because now we had genuine chemistry built on truth and mutual affection.

  “You look like a bloody mess,” I said to him now. “How are we supposed to go out in public with you looking like this?”

  “Give me twenty,” he said with a wink. “I clean up fast. Mimi’s somewhere around here. She said you and I are supposed to have an early lunch at some diner off Twenty-Third Street.”

  “It’s the Malibu Diner,” I said. “Julia’s been there, and she raved about it. It’s all the buzz. It’s supposed to be amazing.”

  For a moment, he looked at me curiously, assessing me, and then he took me into his arms again as he spoke into my ear.

  “You’re glowing today,” he said. “What’s up with you?”

  Austin, I said to myself. Obviously I knew he’d be here, Jackson. And since I don’t want to disappoint him since I have asked him to wait seven months to have that date with me, I’m trying my best to keep him interested. Thus my skin-tight white jersey dress…

  “I’m just happy,” I said quietly as I kissed him on the cheek. “Things are going well right now. With all the interviews I’ve done lately and the movie projects coming in, I kind of want to pinch myself.”

  “I get it,” he said. “It’s an exciting time for you.”

  “It is. But just so you know, I’m also starving. Let’s go to lunch.”

  “Let me clean up, and Austin can take us.”

  No pressure there, I thought.

  “Look your hottest,” I said to him. I didn’t need to tell him why. He knew why. Either Harper or Mimi had already alerted the paps that we’d be eating there this afternoon, and the press was probably already lying in wait for us as I spoke.

  “Got it,” he said. “See you in a few.”

  When he left, I stood alone as cameramen, extras, and a whole host of crew members busied themselves around me. Taking in the moment, I couldn’t help but remember how great it had felt to work on Lion, because each day, the sheer jolt of creative energy had been palpable. I longed to be back on a movie set soon, but I’d have to wait until next year before that happened. And when it did, I’d be working with the master himself—Martin Scorsese. And how lucky was I to be able to learn from that man?

  I was thinking about how that experience would change my life and elevate my craft when I heard my cell ding in my handbag, alerting me to a text message. I withdrew my phone and saw that the text was from Austin, which caused me to pause. Before I read it, I looked over at him and saw that he was talking to Mimi, who was gesticulating dramatically. Then she just threw up her hands and walked away.

  I checked the text and read it. “We still could have dinner tonight, you know.”

  “No, we can’t,” I typed as fast as I could. “I thought I’d made that clear.”

  When I sent the message, he pulled his cell out of his pants pocket and read what I’d written, and then we quickly fell into a routine.

  “I was joking about the takeout,” he wrote back. “I plan to cook for you. My grandfather was a chef. He taught me plenty, and I’m an excellent cook. You seriously need to try my bangers and mash.”

  “Now you’re just being obscene.”

  “Well, it’s true. And then there’s my beef stroganoff…”

  “You’re trying to seduce me!”

  “You know what, Sienna? I think you need to be seduced.”

  “No, I don’t. What I need is to keep focused and tend to my contract.”

  “You certainly were professional when you kissed Jackson a moment ago, that’s for fucking sure.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “For those on the outside? Probably nothing, so good on you and Jackson for your acting skills. But since I happen to be on the inside…shit, Sienna, I could have kissed you way better than that. And I probably would have brought you to your knees in the process, because I’m that good—and I’m that into you.”

  “Austin, you need to stop.”

  “I don’t want to stop.”

  “Well, you need to. I explained the reasons why last night. I need you to respect that.”

  “And you need to respect that ever since I saw you today, I’ve done my best to conceal my erection, which by the way isn’t exactly an easy thing to do.”

  When I read that text, I looked over at him in shock. He arched a mischievous eyebrow at me and then moved his jacket aside so I could see the massive bulge in his pants.

  “Put that away,” I wrote.

  “Can’t,” he texted me back. “It doesn’t work that way for a man, especially since I’m looking at you in that dress of yours. And just so you know, your nipples have been stiffening ever since we began texting.”

  I glanced down at my breasts, saw that I clearly was aroused, and cursed my body for betraying me at the very moment when it absolutely couldn’t.

  “How many times do I have to say that we need to be professional?”

  “Professional?” he texted back. “One day you’ll see just how professional I am when my mouth is pressed against your lips. Because sooner rather than later, that’s going to happen, Sienna. One day you’ll finally give in to me. You’ll throw caution to the wind, and you’ll let me kiss you. It’s going to happen at some point, so why try fighting it? When I do kiss you and you realize all that you’ve been missing out on, you’ll be begging me to kiss you somewhere else.”

  He. Did. Not!

  “Stop talking dirty to me,” I wrote. “It’s inappropriate.”

  “Tell that to your body.”

  I blu
shed when I read that, because given the state of my nipples alone, a part of me was turned on by this exchange. In frustration, I looked over at him, which was a big fucking mistake—just laying my eyes on him was enough to do me in. I was so physically attracted to him that he was turning me into a wonton sex siren—which wasn’t me at all. What the hell was happening to me? I was better than this. I never behaved like this.

  Who have I become?

  “Jackson will be back soon,” he texted. “So, before he comes back, I’ll ask you this again. We both know you’re free tonight, so why not come to my apartment, and I’ll make dinner for you? I learned a lot at my grandfather’s side, and I can promise you that I can curl your toes with my talents in the kitchen. And someday soon, I’ll be curling your toes in ways that have nothing to do with food.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “I signed a contract with Jackson, Austin. I’ve been poor for so long…you know I can’t blow this. Why are you pressing me right now?”

  “Maybe because I want to thrust my tongue into your mouth? And also because I’d never put you in harm’s way. There are ways to see you without anyone knowing, Sienna. I’ve got a whole network of ways to be discreet.”

  “I still can’t take that risk. Please stop.”

  “Can’t promise that,” he said. “Especially when I see Jackson and you faking it all over town. I won’t bullshit you, Sienna. I love Jackson as if he were my brother, but I sure as hell wish I were him right now. That’s for fucking sure.”

  I was about to text him back when I heard Jackson’s voice to my left. I turned and saw him talking with one of the writers. He was wearing what he pretty much always wore when we were meant to be seen together in public—tight-fitting Levis and a revealing T-shirt that left little to the imagination. I don’t know what Jackson was packing, but looking at him now, I knew he could give Jon Hamm a run for his money. Because Jackson’s bulge was off the charts.

  Before he could see what I was doing, I shut my phone off so he wouldn’t know if or when Austin sent me another text.

  “Hey, handsome,” I said as he walked toward me.

  “And look at you,” he said with a grin. “It’s, like, ninety degrees out right now. Do you run cold or something?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your boobs are on high alert, Sienna.”

  “Don’t embarrass me,” I said under my breath.

  “You might have already done that yourself. What’s with the headlights?”

  Oh, fucking hell!

  I glanced around the street and saw a good-looking man standing alone on the sidewalk. Since I didn’t recognize him, he was likely an extra. He looked roughed up with spots of fake blood on his face.

  “OK, fine,” I said. “I might have found that guy over there attractive.”

  “Which guy?” he asked.

  With discretion, I nodded toward the man, and when Jackson looked over at him, he was just as discreet.

  “I saw him earlier,” he said in a voice only I was meant to hear. “He’s totally hot.”

  “You’re the one who’s hot,” I said as I took him by the arm. “And it’s time for us to go to lunch.” I looked around me. “Where’s Austin? Where’s the car? Harper and Mimi aren’t going to want us to be late, so we need to get a move on now.”

  “All we need to do is walk to the curb, and I guarantee you Austin will be there waiting for us. He never lets me down.”

  After having been texting furiously with Austin over the past ten minutes, I wished I could say the same. And then I checked myself, realizing that wasn’t true. If I were to be honest with myself, parts of me had enjoyed our exchange. After two long years of being single, a man I found dangerously attractive had just sexted me into oblivion. And it had felt good, even though I knew it shouldn’t have.

  So, what the hell was I supposed to do now? How could I possibly control Austin going forward, especially since he was hell-bent on getting me alone so he could feed me his bangers and mash? Or his beef stroganoff, for God’s sake? Somehow, I had to get through to him that this wasn’t a joke and that he seriously needed to stop behaving like this—but how best to do so?

  And then it came to me.

  What if I do agree to have dinner with him tonight? I thought. What if I get him alone in his apartment and corner him? If I did that, I could look him square in the face and tell him that this flirtation bullshit needs to end at once. Maybe that’s the best way around this. Maybe he just needs to see how important it is for me to see this through with Jackson. If I agreed to meet him for dinner, I could shut this down…

  As we moved toward the limousine parked at curbside and Austin got out of the car to open the rear door for us, I shot him a withering look and watched his eyes twinkle at me when they met mine. And right then and there, I had my answer.

  He needed to be confronted not by phone or by text but right to his face.

  * * *

  Later, after Jackson and I had been photographed by the paparazzi and had had lunch together—and when Austin picked us up and drove us back to West Nineteenth Street, where Jackson had additional scenes to shoot—I’d thought all of it through and come to my decision.

  “Would you like me to take Sienna home?” Austin asked Jackson.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’m on set now. The rest of your security team is here, so I’ll be fine.” He got out of the car and shot me a smile. “See you tomorrow, Sienna,” he said as he walked away from us. “Lunch was great.”

  “It was, Jackson,” I said. “Until tomorrow. Have a great shoot—and be safe. I worry about these crazy stunts of yours.”

  “They’re nothing to worry about,” he said. “I get off on them.”

  And with a mere smile, he simply walked away.

  “Don’t move the car, Austin,” I said as Jackson faded from sight.

  “Why? I need to take you home.”

  “There’s no need for you to take me home. I’m getting out here.”

  He clocked me in the rearview.

  “No, you’re not. Sienna, everyone recognizes you now. Making sure you get home safely is part of my job.”

  “I live three blocks from here, Austin. This is a safe neighborhood. Hell, it’s my neighborhood. I know it like the back of my hand. I walked here this morning without incident, and I’ll be fine walking home. And besides,” I said, “since you are going to cook for me tonight, you could probably use whatever extra time you have on your hands to make dinner just right. I totally have high expectations when it comes to that, just so you know.”

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise when I said that.

  “I’m cooking for you tonight?”

  “You are, unless you’ve suddenly gotten cold feet.”

  “My feet don’t get cold when I think of you, Sienna. And neither do other parts of my body.”

  So I saw…

  “Good,” I said. “So, what time?”

  “Why the sudden turnaround?”

  “Why does it matter? You wanted this to happen, so it’s happening. What time?”

  “Eight?”

  “Eight works for me. I’ll bring the wine—white or red?”

  “For what I have in mind, a bottle of sauvignon blanc would be perfect.”

  “Consider it done. Now, before I leave, I need to make certain that your plan of getting me into your apartment without anyone seeing me or knowing about it will work.”

  “It’s foolproof,” he said.

  “Nothing’s foolproof, Austin. We both know that. If we’re going to do this, you can’t fuck this up for me. You can’t let that happen.”

  “Sienna, I’d never put you in harm’s way,” he said. “Trust me on this. I’ve done exactly this time and again for Jackson. It works.”

  “It had better work.”

  “And it will, because I understand how important it is to you. I get it. I’m taking none of this lightly. I’d never put you at risk.”

  I
won’t either, Austin, which is why tonight is happening. Because after the way you behaved today, I can’t let you do that to me anymore, and we’re going to have a long conversation about that. When I’m out of my contract—and if you’re still single then—things will be different, and we’ll go from there. But if you’re with someone else…as much as that will disappoint me, we’ll just have to go our separate ways.

  “You remember the pickup plan I laid out to you before?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Be there at seven forty-five. I’ll call Max and let him know the scoop, and then just do what he tells you to do. If you do, you’ll be at my place by eight.”

  “How can I trust Max not to betray me?”

  “Because he’s one of my best friends, and I don’t take my friendships lightly. He’s a good guy—you’ll soon see for yourself.”

  “All right,” I said, opening the door and stepping out onto the sidewalk with dark sunglasses covering my eyes. “Done. And…Austin?” I said before I closed the door.

  “What’s that, Sienna?”

  “I’m a farm girl from Iowa, and I know how to eat. So…you know? Bring it tonight. Make your grandfather proud. Go for the nines. Surprise me.” He moved to speak, but I was already closing the door. “See you later,” I said.

  And then, with a purpose I didn’t feel in my gut—because my gut was twisted in knots—I started to walk uptown to my apartment, wondering whether I’d done the right thing or whether I’d just sabotaged myself. Julia would say that I’d done the latter. But after Austin’s behavior with me today, I knew I needed to be very clear with him, and that obviously had to be done face-to-face.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Before I returned home, I stopped by my favorite wine store on West Twenty-First Street to buy a bottle of sauvignon blanc.

  As usual, the place was packed and humming with its hip, well-dressed, trendy clientele. With my sunglasses in place and my head slightly lowered, I maneuvered toward the right side of the store, where there was a massive chilled-wine section. When I found the sauvignon blanc section, my choice turned out to be a no-brainer. I went with the brand the store itself recommended with a little card placed in front of a row of bottles: “Choose this one—you’ll be happy you did.” Since I trusted this store and its owner, Adam Shift, that’s the one I went with.