Lip Action (Kiss Talent Agency Book 1)

by Virna DePaul

  I almost drop my fork.

  Simon Dale, she’d said.

  They know? Had Charles told them?

  I look at Larissa, who’s smiling, and then to Dad, who’s put down his fork and is frowning at Mom.

  I try to act cool. “What do you know about him, exactly?”

  Instead of answering me, Mom turns to Dad. “Simon Richards is Simon Dale. He’s not some blueblood, related to Prince Harry. He’s an actor in a cheesy soap opera. He plays an alien, Raul.”

  Mom turns to glare daggers at me. “He lied to us all. He’s nothing but trash—a B-level actor. That television show he’s in is nothing short of pornographic! Not only that, but his mother took off and his dad is a drunkard. A drunkard from London’s East End!” Mom clutches at her napkin.

  My heart sinks into my toes. Except for that one conversation about his scar, Simon hadn’t shared anything about his past. Now my family is telling me he basically grew up in the gutter. His roots make him less of a man in their eyes, but I don’t care one wit. I am so sick of them always acting better than everyone when the truth is the Woodcrest family is as dysfunctional as it gets. How can someone like Charles win their approval when he’s a lowdown cheat who always made me feel bad about myself, and yet Simon, who always made me feel like I was worth a goldmine, is not good enough?

  “June—” my father begins.

  “You have a lot of nerve, acting like we’re too good for Simon,” I interrupt. “He’s a kind, smart, brilliant man, and I don’t care if his parents were two circus performers from Mars!”

  I’m close to telling them that he’s the first real man I’ve ever dated when my mom says, “Oh, come off it, Marissa. He told me the truth.”

  I stop mid-sentence. She talked to Simon? Without me there? “Wh-what?”

  She looks at me disdainfully. “He admitted that your relationship was never real. That you were using each other.”

  My mouth falls open. Simon told my mother that? Why? What would he do that for, knowing what kind of hell it would rain down on me?

  To my surprise my father looks almost as upset as I do. “Is that true, Marissa?”

  Fighting the tears at the edge of my eyes, I swallow hard. I’m trying to explain, to say something, anything, but I can’t. Embarrassment surges through me and I toss my napkin onto the table and shoot to my feet, nearly knocking over my glass. “When did you talk to him?” I finally manage to choke out.

  “A few days ago,” she says, making me bristle. I haven’t spoken to him in longer than that. I want to ask more, but I’m already too destroyed. Any more details will likely kill me.

  He told her. He told her this was all a ruse.

  It’s over.

  “Simon told me why you did it,” she continues, wounding me further. What else did he tell her, and why? “I can’t believe you would do something so horrible. That you would lie like that.”

  Suddenly, misery morphs into rage.

  “Oh, you can’t believe it?” I spit out. “After what you did? Insisting I marry that asshole who would treat me like shit for the rest of my life just because you want to keep up appearances?”

  “Now, Marissa,” Mom begins. “I—”

  “No,” my father interrupts, raising his voice in a way I haven’t heard since I was little. “It’s true, June. You never saw how horrible Charles was for her. I meant what I said before. He didn’t deserve Marissa. Apparently, Mr. Dale doesn’t either.”

  “Raul!” My mother looks shocked by my father’s words, and I can’t blame her. I’m shocked as hell.

  But my father ignores my mother and turns to me. “Tell us what you did today, Marissa.”

  His voice is encouraging. Because he knows, I realize. He knew who Simon was when I introduced them. And he knows I quit my job and I’m starting my own company. He’s not exactly taking my back, but a part of him does support me. Wants me to be happy.

  And that knowledge gives me the strength to say, “I’ve quit my job and am starting my own company.”

  Mom looks like she’s about to have a stroke. She can’t even speak now, she’s so astonished. Larissa stares at me like I’m crazy. They all seem to think I’m crazy.

  All of them except Dad.

  He just nods and says, “I believe in you, Marissa. I always have even after what happened with Brian Hall. I should have told you that before. And we’ll try to do better to show you we believe in you from here on out.”

  “Raul!” Mom gasps.

  My dad just looks at her, his expression neither harsh nor gentle, and to my surprise, my mother sighs. “Fine. Do sit down, Marissa, so we can finish our meal.”

  I shake my head, still reeling from my father’s sudden show of support. “No,” I finally say, thinking of Simon. Hating him in that moment, but also thankful for everything he’d brought back to my life. No matter what, he’d made me feel excitement again. He’d made me step out of my comfort zone and take risks again. And I wasn’t letting that go to waste. “I don’t believe I will. I have some things to attend to. I have…I have a life to live,” I say before leaving.

  The only question on my mind in that moment is whether that life will include Simon. But I already know the answer. He gave it to me the moment he told my mother the truth.

  I skip out on work and head home, where I consider drinking the afternoon away, but my head is pounding so hard that I take some Advil and make a large pot of tea instead. As I’m messing around online, though, my heart stops when I see an article about the new movie, Perfect Union. I hover over the link, and I see the name Simon Dale associated with it. Would they write an article about how he was considered for the part but didn’t get it? I have a hard time imagining they would, but then again, what do I know about these kinds of things?

  I click on the link.

  Perfect Union has the largest budget of any movie ever made, with Dakota Drake assuming the lead role of southern belle Charlotte Andrews and newcomer Simon Dale, formerly of the television series Alien Love, assuming the lead role of Captain Ethan Frank, beating out such box office draws as Liam Hyatt and Daniel Rocklin.

  I clutch my mug of tea against my heart. I read the entire article, and I reread it. I take in the words about how Simon got what they’re calling “the part of a lifetime for the young actor.”

  Why didn’t he tell me?

  Why did he tell my mother the truth about our arrangement?

  Why? There’s only one explanation that makes sense.

  He no longer needs me.

  He’s A-list, now, and I’m nothing. I’m not his girlfriend. He has no obligation to tell me anything. Just because we slept together doesn’t make us an item, and it doesn’t mean he owes me anything. If I’m hurt, if I got too emotionally close to Simon, I have no one but myself to blame.

  That’s what I tell myself. But it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s because I finally stood up to my family but the idea of continuing to cry over Simon’s betrayals—not answering my texts, telling my mother about our arrangement, not telling me he got the role he was after as soon as he learned about it—without confronting him is unbearable. So I do the only thing I can possibly do. I get dressed and I head over to see him.

  When I get to his apartment, though, I’m a basket of nerves, and it’s not because I think I could get shot in this neighborhood. I have to lean my forehead against the steering wheel, breathing in and out as I look across the street at the biker bar. I feel like I’m going to puke. I almost decide to leave and avoid the entire thing. What will it solve? Do I really need confirmation that he never cared about me? Maybe I’m a masochist.

  But I’m already here. I get out and go to his front door, ringing the doorbell. I wait. I wait some more. I glance in the living room window. Then the door opens, and Simon is in front of me.

  He looks as good as ever, the asshole. I’d stupidly hoped he’d be emaciated and sickly and have a beard down to his ankles and have looked like he was crying. But of course not. His golden h
air is perfect, his face is perfect—although if I squint, I can maybe see dark circles under his eyes—and he looks delicious wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. I have the dumbest urge to stomp on his foot and run off.

  “Marissa.”

  I swallow. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course. Do you want coffee? Tea?”

  I shake my head. My stomach is too much in knots to bear the thought of putting anything in it. Simon takes me to his living room, where there are stacks of papers everywhere and magazines underneath those papers. The news is on in the background, a faint buzz that barely registers.

  I sit down across from him. I wish I could launch myself into his arms and kiss him. I wish he didn’t look like he wanted me out of his house. I fold my hands, trying to find that calm center that I need so badly. If I burst into tears, I’ll just make a fool of myself.

  “I wanted to tell you congratulations in person for getting the part,” I say. His eyebrows wing upward at my words. “You did get it, right?”

  He doesn’t say anything at first. Then he nods abruptly. “Yes, I did. Thank you, although you didn’t need to come here to say as much.”

  A bitter smile forms on my face. “I just wanted to say, face-to-face, I’m glad it all worked out for you in the end.”

  “And did it work out for you?”

  “Considering you told my mother about the arrangement? Hardly.”

  He’s about to apologize, I can tell, but I put up a hand. “No matter. I’d already decided I needed to be in control of my own life, so I’m not as devastated as I might have been. I quit my job and am going to start my own marketing firm.”

  His eyes light up. For a second, I think he might be proud of me, that he might actually care. “Really? And how do your parents feel about that?”

  “My father actually seemed to approve. My mother?” I shrug. “Well, she’ll either come around or she won’t.” I clear my throat. Strong woman. I am strong. I am a new woman now. I can do this, show him I’m a better person now, and walk out of his life forever, I promise myself. “So I wanted to thank you. I don’t think I would have had the courage to do that if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I think you just found the courage you had all along. But I’m glad I could help.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been out of contact but it’s me who needs to thank you. Seriously, you saved my ass. I know Noble and Spires wouldn’t have agreed to put their trust in me without you playing along.” He smiles, but it seems hollow. “Now that they’ve agreed to have me star in their picture though, I think it’s safe to say that our arrangement is over. I had a good time, but it was never going to be more than a few nights of fun. Right?”

  I’d thought I was fully prepared, but it’s like he’s punched me in the stomach. I can barely breathe. I knew this was coming, but it doesn’t make me feel better. I feel used and discarded, not worth his time anymore.

  “So that’s it, then?” I can hear that my voice is wobbly. “We never see each other again?”

  “Well, I don’t know about that.” His smile widens, but his eyes look hollow. “If you’re up for having fun now and again, feel free to drop by.”

  And there it is: he only wanted me for sex and to get the part. “I don’t think I’ll take you up on that kind invitation. You’ll probably be too busy with Dakota and all your groupies,” I say, trying to keep my voice hard.

  But…shit. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I chant to myself. It doesn’t help. Tears begin to fall. I wipe them away, but I know he’s seen them.

  He looks dismayed. “Marissa….”

  “No, don’t.” I get up, grabbing my purse. The tears are coming faster. I’ve lost control of the little bit of composure I had. “Don’t try to explain yourself. I get it. I was the idiot. I understood what the arrangement was. I was the one who thought maybe it was changing. That maybe when you kissed me, it meant something.” I smile, but I can barely see in front of me because of the tears. “You know what I realized the night of the ball?”

  Simon takes in a breath. He’s standing now, too. His fists are clenched and he looks like he’d like to run far, far away. “What did you realize?” he asks quietly.

  “I realized that I’d fallen in love with you.” He says nothing. I laugh softly. “Does that surprise you? No?” I step closer. His eyes are filled with emotion. At least he isn’t completely heartless. “I knew it was stupid of me. But you can’t help who you love.”

  “You can’t love me,” he says quietly. “Because you don’t know me, Marissa. Not the real me.”

  “Oh, because you think I don’t know you had a bad upbringing? Yes, my mother told me all about your family history. But I don’t care about any of that, Simon. I love you, not in spite of all those things. Because of all of it. I love everything about you.”

  I poke him in the shoulder. He doesn’t budge.

  “And I might be an idiot. But you, Simon Richards-Dale, are a coward. And knowing that will help me get over you. And soon, I won’t love you anymore. So don’t worry about me.”

  Quickly, I walk to his front door, open it, and rush to my car. He doesn’t follow me. I’m glad of it. I don’t want to hear his excuses. I don’t want him to tell me that I’ll get over him. I don’t want him to show sympathy toward me.

  I don’t want anything to do with him now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Simon

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”

  I do my best to shove open my eyelids, but every muscle in my body feels like it’s been beaten to within an inch of its life. When I do, I realize I’m lying on the couch in my apartment, an empty bottle of tequila next to me. Declan’s standing in my open doorway.

  He’s here because we’re having drinks with Spires and Noble tonight to celebrate the new cast selections. I think. All the days are blurring together, now. In the past few weeks, every news outlet in the free world has reached out to interview with me. I’ve had to take voice lessons to learn to talk like an American, go to school to learn about Civil War fighting tactics, get fitted for my costume so Dakota and I can start taking publicity stills. This is a big deal and what I’ve been dreaming about for years—being a part of an extensive cast of A-listers, having my every wish catered to by assistants, being the big man on the set.

  But to me, it’s hollow. How can I celebrate when I feel like my heart has been turned to stone?

  I haven’t seen or talked to Marissa since she called me a coward and walked out of my apartment. Whenever I think about her, I feel a combination of longing and guilt. I miss her teasing and her laugh and her sweet smile. I miss how she made little noises in the back of her throat whenever I kissed her. I just miss her.

  Declan frowns. Then he shuts my door and, folding his arms, asks, “Are we seriously still doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know what’s up. You’re pissing me off, man. We put a lot of time and effort into getting you here, and now you’re fucking throwing it all away. Are you insane?”

  I try to get up, but my mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and my head feels like a soccer ball after a big game. I slump back again and stare at my knees. “I’m—”

  “Fucking it all up, that’s what you’re doing.”

  “Look, I got the role. I’ve been doing what I need to do. The public loves me. Spires and Noble love me. Hell, they haven’t even asked about Marissa once, so—”

  “I’m not talking about your career, you asshole. I’m talking about your fucking relationship with fucking Marissa.”

  “What do you mean? We were never real. You know that!”

  “I don’t believe that. And neither do you. You’re just too much of a coward to admit you already had what you wanted most before Noble and Spires ever gave you the part.”

  My throat closes. I don’t know what to say. His words seem to fit, but they can’t fit. They can’t be true. I gave Marissa up. I had to.

&n
bsp; “She’s better off without me.”

  “Right. And that’s what it all comes back to. You being ashamed of where you came from.”

  “Fuck you,” I grit out. “Of course I’m ashamed. But I got out. I made it.”

  “Did you? Look around you.”

  I shrug. “I can buy a better place once I make it big.”

  Declan shakes his head. “Simon, you’ve already hit it big. Yeah, as a B-Actor, but I know exactly how much money you make. You could be living like a king. But you’re not. You know why? Because part of you feels you don’t deserve to. You’re going to keep on being the gutter-snipe that doesn’t deserve more because that way you don’t have to put yourself on the line. Not in a way that really counts.”

  “Oh for God’s sake. You’re mad,” I say, finally getting up. “When are we meeting Spires and Noble?” I ask instead.

  Declan rolls his eyes. “No, you don’t. Don’t you dare change the subject. You’ve been a ghost of yourself ever since you broke things off with Marissa. Don’t act like that isn’t kind of a big deal.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I grind out. “I told her we were through. She’s not going to take me back.”

  Declan’s eyes light up. “So that means if she wanted to take you back, you’d want her to.”

  “Yes—I mean, no! She deserves better than me.”

  “Well, she’s not going to get it. I heard she’s back with that—what do you call him? Oh right. The Prat. Charles or something.”

  “What? No. That’s impossible! She stood up to her parents. She finally made a move to do what she wants for a change. She would never get back together with him.”

  Declan shrugs. “What if you’re wrong? What if instead of freeing her to be with a better man, you drove her back into the arms of a man who doesn’t deserve her?”

  “She didn’t. Wouldn’t.” Running my hands through my hair, I add, “But it doesn’t matter. You didn’t see her face when I told her it had just been a fling for me.” She’d looked betrayed and in that moment, I’d felt no better than Brian Hall, abandoning her to protect myself. So I’d ever have to see the look on her face when she realized I wasn’t good enough for her.