Chapter 44
ARLEN
Arlen watched Lola pull back and lick her lips. Then she ran her tongue along the inside of her cheeks, as if her mouth went dry all of a sudden.
“Well,” she said, “let's turn things around and make them so they're not so sad any more. Believe me, if you quit, making the studio go after you, things will get very sad. There must be a better way to deal with this that won't destroy you. We can just talk to your wife—”
“I don't have a wife.”
“I mean your ex-wife. We'll explain—”
“Lola, no.”
“What are you so afraid of?” She looked at him with such hope and encouragement, like she could help him cross any street in America.
But Arlen was about to crush out all her sparks. If she would just shut up and listen, for once in her goddamned life. But no, she had to keep trying to rewrite the story, and she didn't even know what the hell the story was.
“Nothing, Lola.” He put up a hand as she got ready to talk some more. “I'm not afraid of anything. The thing I feared most has already happened. And I have to undo it.”
“And we can't talk to your ex-wife?”
“I don't HAVE an ex-wife! I've never been divorced. So just shut up.”
“Okay! Whatever! The woman who gave birth to your kids. Whatever your relationship is, we'll talk to her.”
“We. Can't.”
“Why not?”
“Because she died.”
Lola's face went blank, all expression dropping off. “What?” she whispered. “When?”
“Three years ago,” he said, putting his voice on automatic pilot. “We'd been married for six years. She died in a car accident, and the kids went to live with their father.”
“I thought you were their father.”
“I am. I was since the second I met them.”
“Met them? So you're their stepfather?”
“Rachel's ex-husband was a total deadbeat,” Arlen explained. “He was hardly ever there for Katie and Matteo. And he took off before Ella was born. Hell, we only saw him twice the whole time we were married. For six years.” He shook his head. “Arlen and Rachel Black, with our kids, Katie, Matteo, and Ella Robin.”
Lola didn't say anything.
“Jon Fucking Robin,” Arlen continued. “When Rachel died, he showed up and decided it was time for him to step up. Her death had been his wake up call. He took the kids. Just like that. I lost them. First Rachel, then the kids. Everything. In the space of three weeks.”
Lola stared at him, her eyes wide in her pale face. “But,” she finally burst out, “you must have had rights!”
Arlen nodded. “Sure. You would think. I was ready to fight. But ...” He swallowed.
“But WHAT?”
Arlen looked up at Lola. “You know, people always get all rah-rah like that. 'Keep fighting, no matter what.' I think it's because they think that if you don't give up, you're bound to win. But some things, some people, are not worth risking. Not to me.” Arlen shook his head. “Jon wanted to move the kids to Tacoma, start all over with them. He'd landed some major sales gig with a cosmetics company up there. But if I followed them, which I wanted to do, I would have been in Jon's way. So, he offered me a deal. Stay in Los Angeles, don't follow him to Washington, and I could see the kids for a week over Thanksgiving and for a month in the summer.”
“But you had been their Dad for six years. To his zero.”
“I would have lost.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she made a will. Rachel made a will.”
Lola sat there looking at him, blinking. “What did it say?”
“It's what it didn't say. When Rachel was thirty-two years old, she'd had the presence of mind to make a will. And in it, she did not leave me her kids.”
“She left them to Jon?”
“She didn't even mention it. And NOT mentioning me left the door wide open for Jon. It's as if the whole thing was just her way of saying, 'If anything happens to me, Jon, they're yours—if you want them.' I mean, she knew I would be there for them no matter what. Jon was the wild card, and she was giving him a chance without coming right out and saying it.”
Arlen's voice got quieter. “If I went to court and fought, and he won, I would never see them again, and I could NOT risk that. So I took the deal. Jon's stuck to it since he left with them.” He pinned Lola with an icy look. “Until now.”
Lola closed her mouth and nodded, as if shaking all confusion and uncertainty off her. “Jon saw the picture and told you the kids couldn't come.”
“I hadn't told them about the show yet,” Arlen explained. “I was waiting to see if we got picked up. When we did, then I decided to wait until the kids were here in person, just so they didn't get too weirded out. I wanted them to see me while I told them, so they could see I'm still me, not some whacko actor. So, after I left your house last night, I called Jon to explain everything. He seemed cool about it, especially since there wouldn't be any acting while the kids are here. But then he called back this morning to tell me the kids wouldn't be coming.”
“What?! Why?”
“He spent the night online and Wendy used to have quite a reputation as a party girl—decadent lifestyle, drugs—He said that 'in all good conscience,' he couldn't let them come.”
“But you're not part of Wendy's personal life.”
“He's pretending he doesn't believe that. Damn! I want to go up there NOW and throttle some sense into him. But I need to quit first.”
“No. No way we are letting that bastard destroy your life again.”
Arlen looked at her sharply. “What?” He tried to swallow but he couldn't.
Lola's eyes lit up with a fiery gleam. “We are not going to let that bastard destroy your life again. I won't allow it, Arlen. I will fix this.”
Arlen was still having trouble getting his breathing on an even keel. It felt like all the tension of the past three years was starting to splinter deep inside his chest.
Lola wanted to help him? Lola unequivocally saw Jon as the bad guy? As a demon who needed to be dealt with?
It wasn't possible, was it? That Lola Scott—that of every one he had ever known—that Lola Scott was the one person who understood?
He didn't know what to say. He didn't even feel like he was on the same planet any more.
Lola turned back to face forward and buckled herself in. “Take me back to my office. And then you—Jesus, Arlen. Go home and get some sleep. You barely slept at all last night, right?”
Arlen started the truck and peeled out, still feeling like he'd just been bashed in the head with a cast iron skillet.
“What time did Jon call this morning?” Lola asked.
“5:30.”
“Arlen, go home and sleep. You look like you belong in a straitjacket and that isn't going to help in getting the kids back.”
Chapter 45
LOLA
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I keep a cool nonchalance dusted across my features. Just think Greer Garson. Just think Greer Garson. Capable, calm, gorgeous.
I don't dress up often, but when I do, I can look like a million bucks. Killer heels, sleek business suit. Okay. I confess I took a class. More of a retreat, really, on how to look, dress, and comport myself both professionally and formally. Kind of like how Obama learned to play golf early in his political career because he knew the skill would come in handy. And hey, the guy got elected president twice, which you must admit, is pretty successful for a politician. And I've never regretted going to the retreat. I've been down the Emmy red carpet a time or two, and let me tell you, knowing how to walk in a long dress and stilettos came in mighty handy.
Today, I'm thankful to know how to stride around forcefully in four inch heels. I look all Marilyn Monroe with my blonde hair, scarlet lips, and vivacious curves packed into this suit. And that's not a bad combo. Marilyn sass glazed over Greer grit.
And I've been pulling it o
ff. My mid-afternoon flight to Tacoma was first class and I had a town car pick me up at the airport and take me straight to Palm Leaf Beauty headquarters. So, no travel pressures or discomforts to muss my rockin' boss mojo.
“Mr. Robin will see you now.”
Thank you, Ray! I don't know what the sassafras he told them, but I'm in. And about to take a meeting at the end of the business day, leaving my opponent little room to maneuver.
The receptionist waves her arm like a The Price Is Right model and ushers me into Jon Robin's office.
“Mr. Robin,” I say, striding in and tossing my purse onto a chair before extending my hand to shake his.
And holy shit, the man is gorgeous. All Dennis Quaid but darker and more feral. But I do not let this faze me.
“Ms. Scott,” he says.“Have a—”
But before he can finish his invitation or take a seat behind his desk, I perch on the arm of one of the guest chairs and face him, locking eyes with him. “Mr. Robin,” I say, as if it means something and I'm going somewhere with this.
Jon sits on the edge of his desk and swivels just enough to face me head on. He's higher up than me, but I don't need a height advantage to feel strong. I just need to be ready to spring. I cross my legs.
“Ms. Scott,” Jon Robin begins with a killer smile, “your assistant said your company is interested in our line of—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I'm here to talk about Arlen Black.”
Jon shoots up from the desk.
“I'm the one in charge of the show he's on. Both he and Wendy Hunter work for me.”
“Did he send you up here?”
“No,” I say, leaning back a fraction. “He does what I say, not the other way around. He doesn't even know I'm here.”
“Then how did you find me?”
“My assistant Ray got me in here. I swear, that man could be MI-5.” I lean forward. “Mr. Robin, the entire show and hundreds of jobs are on the line.”
“Because of that picture.” Jon shakes his head as if Arlen fucked up again.
“No. Because Arlen quit.”
“When?”
“Three hours ago.”
“He didn't call me.”
“That's because he's been tied up with legal the whole time. They're gearing up to sue him for everything he's got.”
Jon moves toward the door and I slide my butt into the seat of the chair. Harder to oust me now.
“You need to leave.”
I turn in the chair to face him. “Not when you're threatening my show and the people who work on it. All because of a publicity stunt engineered by Wendy Hunter.”
Jon turns to me and talks at me from just in front of the door. “You call it a stunt. But I see Arlen involved with a Hollywood party girl.”
“Have you seen Kim Kardashian's sex tape?”
My sudden question sends a red tide up his neck and I know the answer.
“Ah,” I say. “Then you understand. There is nothing people in Hollywood will not publicize. NOTHING.”
Jon clears his throat. “So?”
“So if there were anything racier, if there were anything actually going on between Arlen and Wendy, we would all know about it.” I launch myself out of the chair and stride across the room to snatch the newspaper pic out of my purse. I hand the damning photo to Jon. “His hands are on her shoulders, about to push her away. This is the most scandalous shot they could get.”
“Really?” Jon asks skeptically. “Then why don't we see Arlen pushing her away? A picture like that would get some headlines.”
“Because the photographer works for Wendy. That's why there are no more shots published. Just the one, just enough to spark speculation about her new show and her new co-star.”
Jon's jaw stiffens and he twists his lips in clear-cut cynicism.
I brush him off with a smile. “You've worked your way to the top of the sales department, Mr. Robin. You must recognize the ploy.”
He sighs. “Even if Arlen has gotten himself caught in the crossfire, and he's perfectly innocent, I don't owe him anything.”
I feel a jolt of adrenaline and I know I have to strike. “Bullshit,” I say, barking out a laugh.
Jon's features harden. “Arlen moved in and took over my life. I wanted it back. End of story.”
I take back the picture and put it in my bag, snapping it shut with a click. “Rachel wasn't a graphic designer when she was with you. She didn't have the time to train or the money. When you left, only one of your kids could read and none of them could dance or do long division or had braces.” I look up at Jon. “Arlen met four abandoned, struggling, unhappy people and he built a life. Then you waltzed in a stole his life. Not the other way around. Just because Rachel colluded in the theft does not change the fact that you stole what Arlen built and what Arlen loves.”
“I love them, too,” he says.
“Arlen showed his love. Every second of every day.”
“You have some nerve.”
“Right back atcha.”
“What business is it of yours?” he fumes. “What do you even want from me?”
“Just send the kids to Los Angeles for the month as planned. Arlen is no threat. You know he would step on Wendy's neck and squeeze the life out of her before he let anything happen to those kids. You know that. If there's something else going on here, some other reason you're changing things up, tell Arlen and give him a fighting chance.”
“Arlen's not a fighter.”
I square off against Jon Robin and snake my ruby red lips into a vicious smile. “But now he's on my team. And I am a fighter.”
I actually see the smile drop off Jon's face.
But then he considers me. “And what do I get in return?”
“The kids,” I say. “Ten months and three weeks out of the year. Healthy, smart, talented kids with straight teeth.”
“So you came all they way up here to guilt me into giving in? No dice.”
“As if,” I scoff with a saccharine smile. “I would never try to use emotional blackmail on you. You've shown your mettle and it is not sentimental.”
Jon's face lights up then, as though an idea has just flashed into focus. “How about this? Wendy Hunter becomes the Palm Leaf spokesperson, and I let Arlen see the kids.”
I feel it then, my armor snapping into place. I'm like Iron Man calling forth his suit, preparing for intense battle. This man before me would casually gouge out Arlen's heart again, all for the sake of a boon to his career. The bastard called Arlen back this morning just to use the kids as leverage.
I sigh. “I wish you were a more decent guy. I really do. It pains me to think of Arlen's kids getting raised by you.”
“So, do we have a deal?”
“We do not.”
“No?”
I smile innocently. “You see, it's like this. Wendy is not personally involved with Arlen, but she is fiercely loyal to anyone on her show. Because the show is a reflection of her. So, if you fuck with someone on the show, you fuck with her.” I take a few steps toward him. “You think Wendy is a Hollywood party girl? Maybe she was twelve years ago. But you do not end up commanding a multi-million dollar salary for a decade by being an airhead.”
Jon raises his brows. “Then I think she'll see the benefits of signing on with us. She promotes Palm Leaf, and I don't fuck with Arlen.”
“Hmmm,” I say, heading toward the door. “As it turns out, your biggest competitor, Blissed Out Cosmetics? They're one phone call away from getting the spokesperson of a lifetime. Ad spots that will take Wendy a day to shoot will last them for years. Oh, and I'll make sure the higher-ups at Palm Leaf know that Wendy is at Blissed Out because you made her mad.”
Jon's eyes flicker, but he rallies. “Destroying my career won't be doing the kids any favors.”
I shrug. “They've already survived their father abandoning them when they were toddlers, their mother's sudden death, and being ripped away from the man they loved as 'Dad' for six years. I've
no doubt they can survive an economic hit. After all, they've lived in a tiny apartment with one parent before.”
I see his jaw tighten.
I take my phone out of my purse and show him the screen. “Oh, look. Blissed Out Cosmetics, right there on speed dial. Right under Wendy's name.” I look at the phone. “Huh,” I say. “What do you know about that.” I look up at Jon. “Your move. But remember, Arlen is not the one calling the shots. You're up against me and Wendy Hunter now. So tread carefully.”
I turn away and put my hand on the doorknob, then turn back all Columbo-like. “Oh, and one more thing. Down on the third floor? I ran into Craig Bilson. I understand you two are quite competitive. I have him on speed dial, too.” I look at my phone and read off the number. “Wouldn't he love to know how you're about to throw Wendy Hunter to the competition.”
I see the fear dart across Jon's eyes.
“You have until midnight to make things right.”
Chapter 46
ARLEN
Arlen knew Lola had a talent for getting things wrong when it came to real people. He must have been completely addled to have gone home and let her out of his sight for a few hours. Lola had no idea what she was doing. If she didn't create a character or pretend she created a person, then she was ridiculously out of her depth. With her, it was China fucking Syndrome—complete nuclear meltdown. He couldn't let her anywhere near his actual life. He COULD NOT. Last time he did, he ended up cast in a weekly one-hour drama.
He shook off the first drops of rain as he ducked into the stairwell and headed up to the offices.
Ray stood up as Arlen surged forward. “She's not here.”
Arlen stopped short. “Where is she?”
“Not here.” Ray swallowed.
“Dammit! She's on some mission, isn't she? Tell me where she is. Please.”
Ray's jaw bulged, as if he were clenching his teeth to keep from saying anything.
Jesus! Lola had sworn the guy to secrecy.
“Is she in ...” Arlen closed his eyes and swallowed. “Washington? Is she in Tacoma?”
Queen of the Universe (In Love in the Limelight Book 2) Page 13
