Anson was almost to the kitchen before he realized Etta was not behind him. “Baby?” When he saw her looking like a deer in headlights on the front porch, he cleared the distance between them in a few seconds. “Is it too much? What can I do?”
“No, it’s great!” she croaked, her voice forsaking her forced cheeriness. She lowered to a whisper. “I’m just sort of freaking out a little. I can’t… My feet won’t… I just…” She despised the next words that came out of her mouth. “Could you just hold my hand?”
Anson squeezed her palm. “I am. Don’t you feel that?”
“No,” Etta admitted, worry flooding her brain. “My hands are all tingly. And the air? It’s thicker out here.” Her chest began to heave. Each breath felt like it was being sucked through a straw. “Need a… minute.”
Without waiting to see if she would collect herself or faint, Anson scooped her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold and into his house. He took Etta straight up the stairs to his room. Jordan was summoned, and he brought a brown paper bag for Etta to breathe into. Anson’s panic attacks seemed to have transferred to Etta, so Jordan used the same tools to treat them. “Are you sure you don’t want that valium?” Jordan asked again.
Etta shook her head as she tried to steady herself with the paper bag.
“I thought you said you were bringing back your girlfriend. This girl looks like she’s been kidnapped, Anson.”
“She’s not used to all this. We met under very different circumstances.”
Etta was grateful when her breathing began to regulate, and she did not pass out in front of the stranger. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed.
“Don’t talk yet,” Anson warned. “Nothing to be sorry for. I should’ve done a better job explaining my life to you.” He pleaded with her on his knees, begging her with his eyes as he spoke. “Please at least stay the night. Give it a try. You might like it here.” He swallowed, not caring that Jordan was witnessing his groveling. “If you hate it, I’ll take you home in the morning.”
When he took her fingers and pressed them to his heart, Etta softened. She pushed out the enormous house and the bedroom that looked more like three rooms pushed together and furnished by an interior decorator. “Of course,” she managed. “I won’t leave you.”
The relief that gusted out of him made Etta feel guilty at her behavior. He gently scooped her off the bed toward him, and despite the audience, she slunk into his lap on the floor, resting her head to his firm chest. Somehow she knew that wherever his heart went, she would follow.
Etta’s Competition
Jordan made everything easier. The move, the drive, the transition into the warmer weather, and just life itself moved better when he was there to pick up the slack. He and Anson had the kind of almost psychic connection that came from working well together for so long. Once he learned Etta’s quirks and personality, he was able to make her stay much easier, even going so far as adjusting the thermostat so it was not so warm in the house.
Anson had very few responsibilities in his life, now that he was retired. There was an occasional item added to his calendar, but those events seemed so far away that Etta lost track of worrying about them.
She sat with Anson in the waiting room of the tallest office building she had ever been in, ready to be introduced to the second most important person involved in keeping his life afloat. “Is Serena like Jordan?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet.
Anson paused in thought before answering. “No. Her job is different. Jordan makes sure I have clean shirts and someone to drive me to events. Serena and Lou send me the shirts with designer labels and set up my appearances at the events. Serena used to book my auditions and line up jobs for me. Still sends me scripts.”
Etta frowned. “I get why you need Jordan. But if you’re retired, why do you need an agent and a publicist? Serena and Lou, I mean, don’t they get bored? I don’t get it.”
His fingers entwined through hers, and Anson looked down at their perfect fit with a smile. “I’m still under contract to appear at a few more things. That’s what this meeting’s about.”
“Should I be here? That sounds like a private conversation.”
“You’re here because I’m here. I like having you with me. Besides, the things I have to still show up for concern you. You’ll be going with me.”
Etta bumped her shoulder to his. “Was that you asking me out on a date?”
Dread dawned on Anson. “Oh, man. I’ve never taken you out on a date before, have I?” He wiped his hand over his face in shame. “Etta, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. We’ll go out tonight. I’ll have Jordan set up something real nice. I’m a crap boyfriend.”
Etta laughed quietly at his concern. “I’m just teasing you. I’ve never been on a date before. Not a real one. That sounds nice.” When he did not lighten from his disgrace, she poked his side. “Hey, don’t be upset. I was a shut-in when you met me. You were too, pretty much. Dates aren’t really a possibility in the mountains.”
“I guess not.” His arm draped around the back of her chair to pull her closer. “I am sorry, though. I promise to take you out tonight. Your first date ever? How is that possible?”
Etta rolled her eyes at him, earning a grin from his dimpled cheek. “Please. You know you were my first… everything.”
Anson’s lips found his favorite spot on her neck, frowning when she flinched away. “Hey. I was not finished kissing you.”
Etta looked around to the receptionist to make sure they had not been caught. “Look, you boy.” She fixed him with her serious stare. “The whole world doesn’t need to know that I melt too easily for you.”
“Too easily, huh?” He kissed the back of her hand. “That sounds like a real problem.”
“You’re a real problem for my self-control, you know,” she joked. “Plus, people can see us!” She nodded her head toward the secretary’s desk. “And you’re going into a meeting soon. I don’t want to look like your whore.”
“Why would you jump to that?” he asked with a faux frown. “At worst, you’re my sex slave. Or maybe I’m yours. Who gets to be on top?”
“You’re incorrigible.” She shoved at him when he nibbled her ear. “And knock it off. I’m not an actor, like you. People can read my emotions all over my face. I’ll walk into that room, and she’ll know we were… doing things.”
Anson chuckled. “You know, one day I’ll have to teach you the proper names for what we’re doing. And we’re living together. I think it’s assumed we’re ‘doing things’.” He used air quotes to mimic her, smirking at the blush he loved to provoke. Unable to help himself, he kissed her heated cheek, loving the way the color flushed all the way down her neck, giving him a trail to follow. “I believe kissing is acceptable between boyfriends and girlfriends.”
“Would you knock it off?” Etta slapped him away just as the door opened to reveal the most well-dressed business woman Etta had ever seen.
Serena was perfect. She was tan, with long legs in high heels. She wore a charcoal business suit with a skirt that was almost a professional length, but lacked two inches to make it thus. Her breasts were covered appropriately, but were pushed high to still draw the eye. Her blonde, chin-length bob hung straight with perfect edges. Judging by her laser-focused eyes, Etta wondered if the cutthroat woman used her own razor to off the offending follicles.
Etta did not offer her hand or try to force an introduction. Instead, she followed Anson into the office and sat in a chair next to him, attempting a friendly smile and a quiet demeanor.
“So, I trust you had a nice little vacation?” Serena pecked Anson on both his cheeks, and then began the meeting as if there was not a third person in the room. Etta wished Anson had let her wait outside. Sure, Vera kissed her cheeks, as did the other owners she grew up knowing, but it had a different feel when Serena marked Anson in such a way. Etta scolded herself for being immature. She kept her expression devoid of conflict, missing several minutes of conversati
on as she tried to talk sense into her rising discomfort.
“But Anson, you can’t be serious. You’ve had your little hiatus. This is the time to strike!” The fervor in Serena’s contact lens green eyes only grew as the meeting progressed. “We’ve worked so hard to get you on top of your game. Now that you are? What? You bail? That doesn’t sound like you.” She finally turned to Etta. “I’m guessing this was your bright idea. Keep him to yourself for a while. Have your little naked vacation. Good for you. You nabbed yourself a famous actor.” She tapped her pen on her desk as if she very much wanted to weaponize it. Anson said nothing, but fished around in his pocket while she spoke. “The problem is, he stops being a famous actor if he’s too busy screwing you. Once he loses the novelty, you’ll lose the attention that comes from being seen with him. Then you’ll leave, and he’ll have nothing. Typical selfish behavior. I’d expect nothing less from a… how old are you? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
Etta’s mouth fell open in shock. She scrambled for a defense, but no words would come to her. She had never been spoken to like that. Before she could respond in a manner that would compromise her dignity, she recalled her Papa’s kind face whenever an irrational customer had the rare complaint. She donned it proudly and answered in a clear voice, “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Miss.”
Serena’s pointy features soured as she processed the humble reply. “We’re past disappointment, sweetie. You’ve just cost your lay of the week millions of dollars in potential revenue.”
Anson put his hand on Etta’s and found it was shaking. In a fluid motion, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and set it on the desk. “That’s been recording. Keep it up, Serena.”
Serena’s thin lips tightened, and then she leaned down toward the device to speak into it. “You can do better.” She paused and glared at Anson. “This is a bad fiscal decision.”
“You just insulted my girlfriend, and me. She isn’t the reason I’m retired. I made that decision before I left. Before I even met her. Apologize to her.”
Serena shot him a look that dared him to cross her. “I’m sorry if anything I said was misunderstood.” She glared at Etta. “It’s my job as your agent to tell you that this fling is costing you your career.”
“Nope. Not good enough.” Anson stood, bringing Etta to her feet alongside him. “You’re fired.”
Without blinking or looking back, Anson led Etta out of the room and shut the door behind him. Something hard smashed against the wall of her office, but Anson ignored it. He made a beeline for reception and requested the president of the company. While Serena had forced Anson to wait, the president made time for the impromptu meeting with the man who pulled in so much revenue for his company. The fifty-year-old man appeared within ten minutes, ushering them into his private elevator that led to his office on the top floor. While Anson’s standard jeans and hoodie were expected to help him blend in when he was in public, Etta felt vastly underdressed following the man in the perfectly pressed suit.
Anson sat with Etta and did not say a word when greeted by the professional, yet friendly man. He simply pulled out his phone and replayed the recording, which started halfway into Serena’s first slight on Etta. When the recording ended, Mr. Goldman put his hand over his mouth in reverent thought. “You can be assured Serena will be dealt with concerning this.”
“I expect nothing less than good judgment from you. I emailed you the clip, in case you need it for HR.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gable.” He sighed and smoothed out a wrinkle on his forehead that usually came with stress. “Would you trust me to assign another agent to you? I’d hate to lose you because one of my employees got a little jealous.”
“That’s fine. So long as they understand it’s just to help me fulfill my contractual obligations. I’m retired, Mr. Goldman.”
“I’ll see to it.”
“Can you also see to it that the new agent’s a man?” Anson sat back and crossed one leg over the other to convey his nonchalance over the whole matter. His palms were burning to be sanitized, but he fought through the mania with an actor’s grace.
“Certainly. Your new agent will be in touch by the end of the day.” Mr. Goldman turned to Etta, whose head was angled down so she could spend far too much attention on her knees. “And Miss Brossetta, I apologize on behalf of the company for the problems Serena caused today. Can I get you anything? Anything at all? I fear I’m in your debt for Serena’s actions.”
Anson stroked her arm, unhappy to find she was still trembling. “You’ll want to shoot for the stars, Etta. Mr. Goldman’s a very powerful man. A favor from him? That’s like your own personal Santa Claus.”
“Could I ask you a question?” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
“A question?” Anson complained. “Ask for a unicorn. See what he can come up with.”
“Could I talk to Mr. Goldman alone for a minute?” she asked Anson, who nodded in surprise.
“Sure, sweetheart. I’ll be right outside.” He looked her over for any tells as to what she might talk to Mr. Goldman about that she did not want him hearing.
As soon as he exited, Etta lifted her head and looked at the man properly for the first time. His suit was very nice, though Etta knew precious little about brands. He was graying around the temples, which for some reason made her trust him more. He did not try to hide his age with dye or his wisdom with fabricated youth. She cleared her throat and did her best to hide her nerves. “I want you to know that I’m not the reason Anson isn’t working. He retired first, then I met him. I didn’t even know who he was until we’d been together for a while.”
Mr. Goldman’s fingers pressed together in front of his mouth as he sized up the girl before him. He saw in her no threat of a lawsuit and no cunning with which to lie to him. “So, what you’re saying is that I need to fire my publicity team?”
“Good gracious, no!” Etta pulled her knitted cardigan tighter around her to bring closer the comfort. “I just don’t have a dad to talk to about this sort of thing, and I’m a little lost. I don’t know anything about your company or his movies or this world. I want him to be happy. If that’s making more movies, great. If it’s not, great.” Etta’s fingers twisted in her lap. “If he was your son, what would you want him to do?”
Mr. Goldman eyed her as if she was the most curious bird he had ever seen. “If Anson was my boy, I’d be quite proud. If he retired today, I’d support him. However, if a man has no direction, no challenges, the pleasure center in his brain shrinks. He’ll become aimless, and that’s not what I’d want for my son.” Mr. Goldman leaned back in his chair as he thought. “I can tell you genuinely care about him and want what’s best. That’s a good thing.”
“I do. I’m just so turned around out here, I’m not sure what the best thing for him is. I owned a Bed and Breakfast back in the mountains before coming out here to be with him. I’m a little out of my element.”
“If he decides to stick with retirement, you should try to find him some other work to do. Work with his hands. Volunteering, or some other manual labor job. If he opts to get back in the game, encourage him to take only the roles he really loves, not just the strategic career moves.”
Etta smiled at the man, earning a smile in return. “I can tell you love your company. Thanks for being straight with me.”
“I do love this company. Happy clients are the best kind. If Anson’s miserable, or if he just needs a break, I can understand that. We’re here for him if he comes back.”
Etta went to stand, but thought of something else. “You said Serena was jealous of Anson. Why doesn’t she try to be an actress? She’s very pretty.”
Mr. Goldman chuckled. “She’s not jealous of Anson. She wishes she was the girl on his arm. Probably why your man requested a male agent to replace her. He runs into that a lot.” He leaned forward to speak seriously to her. “Now, since we’re pretending Anson’s my son, that would make you my potential future daughter-in-law. If you’ll hu
mor me, I have some advice for you.”
Etta held up her hand. “I already know how to change a tire.”
He laughed again, louder this time, and realized it had been far too long since he indulged in the release. “You’re one up on me, then. No, no. I mean to warn you about being with someone like Anson. Once it gets out that you’re with him, there will be a time that you’re photographed to death. It would make anyone lock themselves indoors. My advice is to get out there and get it over with. Let them look at the new circus attraction, so they can get on with their lives. Anson is a hot commodity, and that makes you a target for gossip. Choose your friends wisely.”
“Thank you, sir.” She looked into his amiable brown eyes and broke the seriousness. “How’d I do? You’re my first LA friend.”
“Forgive me for being partial, but you could not have chosen better.” He picked up a business card from his desk and scribbled his number on the back. “This is me at the office, and in case you have any other questions concerning my pretend son,” at this, he turned over the card, “here’s my personal cell. You’ll want to keep that private.”
“Yes, sir.” She looked the card over, and then jotted her number down on a spare card to give to him. “That’s me, I think.” She reread the number again. “Sorry. He just got me my first cell phone, so I’m new to the number.”
“Will you humor me through another piece of advice?” he asked. “You’ll have to forgive me. No one comes to me for counsel. No kids of my own. This is a rare treat for me.”
“For my future father-in-law? Anything.” Etta pocketed his number.
“If I ever see you wearing a designer sweater instead of that cardigan, I will be quite disappointed. Don’t lose the mountains to the palm trees, Miss Brossetta.”
“Etta,” she corrected him as she stood. “And thank you, Mr. Goldman.”
“Len.” He stood with her and escorted her to the door.
Liberating Mr. Gable Page 15
