Reforming Atlanta’s Rouge: The Trouble with Dating an Actor

by McConnell, Lucy

  Patricia calmed. “Fine.”

  Cindy held the door open. “Get out of my room.”

  “You can’t talk to me that way.”

  Cindy grinned. “Yeah, I think I can.”

  For the first time, Patricia didn’t have an acid comeback. Instead, she lifted her shoulders. “Suit yourself.” She left, gripping the handrail on her way down the attic staircase.

  “Thanks—I will.” Cindy slammed her door and danced right there in her towel. She had so much to do. If she could talk a few of her father’s friends into investing with her, she’d have a studio up and running within the month. She threw on a pair of leggings and a tunic, blow-dried her hair, and brushed on mascara before deeming herself ready to face the road ahead.

  She paused in the mirror, looking at rule number 3 taped to the glass. More than anything, she wanted to share her plans with Beau. Wanted to show him the scripts in progress—ask him which one he thought would put her studio on the grid without breaking the start-up budget. She wanted to sit shoulder to shoulder and run through dialogue. She wanted him in every part of this venture—she wanted him in her life.

  But she wanted the Beau she’d shopped with—the one who asked about her college days and laughed at her antics and fished for compliments. If he even existed.

  Who was the real Beau Mckay? Was it the guy who growled like a bear and made her laugh, or the one who had his hands on Drusilla while they danced? She wanted to believe that her Beau was the real man behind the movie mask, that the playboy image was a blinking light meant to draw attention.

  She took the stairs slowly, pondering over the dynamic in the movie world that included social obligations as much as a strong work ethic. Parties were about networking. Lunches were about pitching the next project. Clubbing was for building relationships with your coworkers. Any one of those reasons would be completely understandable, and yet Patricia had implied there was so much more to the photo than taking care of business. She insinuated Beau and Drusilla were getting down to business.

  If only there was some way to tell where his heart truly lay.

  The doorbell rang, bringing her gaze off her feet. The house was quiet; Patricia and her daughters gone for the day. Cindy hurried to answer the door. A delivery girl with the Cakes by Design logo on her ball cap stood on the porch. “I’m looking for Cindy Knight?”

  “I’m Cindy.”

  “Then this is for you.” She handed over a giant white cake box. “Happy Birthday.”

  “Thanks?” Cindy stared at the box, a memory wiggling in the back of her mind. The smell of chocolate, hazelnuts, and sugar wafted up from the container, taking her back to every birthday she celebrated with her daddy. She shook her head and smiled. “Tomás.” That wonderful man.

  She flipped open the card.

  Happy Birthday, Princess.

  Princess? Maybe the person taking the order thought he said princess. Tomás called her “peanut,” just like Daddy had.

  You’ve lived thirty years on your own—I’d sure like to spend the next thirty convincing you we belong together.

  Love, Beau

  She flipped the card over and looked at the back as if the words “Just kidding” would be there to explain why Beau was sending her a wonderful birthday card—and a cake! Eyeing the box, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. There was no way he sent her a triple layer chocolate hazelnut cake. He could not have picked that cake—her cake.

  She ripped off the seal and flipped up the top. Overwhelmed with the delectable goodness, she leaned over and inhaled the smell.

  Beau. Was. Amazing.

  She clutched the card to her chest as the pictures of Beau dancing with Drusilla flashed through her head.

  Her plan for her birthday had been to visit some of her dad’s old friends and lay the groundwork for her new studio. However, if she looked in her heart, what she really wanted for her birthday was Beau. Warmth and peace flooded her soul like fairy dust pouring from a magic wand.

  Praying she could trust the feeling, she headed for her car. She’d told Patricia she wouldn’t go to Knight Studios today—but she didn’t owe Patricia a thing. If she wanted to walk through the doors to the company her father built, then she was going to do just that.

  Chapter 12

  Beau paced the bathroom tiles. Drusilla had suctioned herself to his arm—and leg and middle—all morning long in an odd monkey-possessiveness. The men’s room was the only place he could breathe without her in his oxygen.

  The trip to the club had been a joke. Cindy never appeared, and when he’d asked about her, Patricia dismissed his inquiry with a “We didn’t invite employees.”

  An employee? Her stepdaughter. He’d coughed. “I should probably head out. I have an early gym appointment.”

  Drusilla pouted. “I was hoping we could dance—just once.”

  “I really don’t—”

  Patricia had put her hand on his arm and spoke so only he could hear. “She’s just been dumped and it shook her. Dancing with you would bolster her self-confidence. Please. She’s my daughter.”

  Beau bit his cheek. “Sure.”

  They’d danced, his hands on her hips to keep her from straddling his leg, and he’d left feeling as though he’d escaped but left something behind. Wondering if the coast was clear, he poked his head out of the door. Drusilla was at the receptionist desk, her back to him.

  Daphne caught his eye as he pressed his finger to his lips.

  “Here’s your latte.” Daphne tipped the cup and splashed the caramel liquid down Drusilla’s skintight dress, making the whole thing look like an accident.

  “You wretch!” Drusilla hissed.

  Beau ducked down the hallway until he found a cubicle that had Cindy’s name on the brass plaque on the outside wall—if you could call these half-pint gray things walls.

  Cindy may not have been there in person, but this space felt like her. It smelled like her too—a hint of citrus. He sat in her chair and opened the top drawer. Smiling up at him, Robert Knight had his arm around Cindy’s shoulders. She was so beautiful. Her hair was shorter back then, and it had highlights.

  Why hadn’t she called him? He’d sent the cake—just like Tomás instructed. And he’d written that note—put his heart right there on the page.

  “As I told you, Mr. Hall,” Patricia’s voice floated out the open office door. Beau ducked. He hadn’t noticed anyone in the office when he walked in, but his mind was on Cindy—always Cindy.

  Patricia continued, “Cindy doesn’t have any interest in Knight Studios. I’ve kept an office for her, hoping she’d want something of the company her father built.” She sniffed. “But she washed her hands of it the day he died.”

  Beau’s fingernails bit into his palms.

  Tomás came into the cubicle and pulled up short. “What—?”

  Beau cut him off with a quick slash of his hand. He pointed to the open office. Tomás ducked below the short walls.

  “If that’s true,” replied a deep voice, “then at noon, everything in the trust will transfer to you.”

  Tomás grabbed the front of Beau’s shirt and got right in his face. “Go get her—now! I’ll make sure the lawyer doesn’t leave.”

  Beau nodded. He snuck around the corner and headed for the front door.

  His exit wasn’t unnoticed. “Beau.” Drusilla stepped out in front of him. She had changed into a purple dress. “We’re just about to start back up.”

  Beau shook off her hands. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Do you want more tea? I’ve had the break room stocked with lemon and chamomile.”

  Her arms really were like tentacles. He put his hands on her shoulders and struggled to break free as she sucked herself against him. Shuddering, he turned his head.

  The bright Atlanta sun filled the room as Cindy burst through the front doors. She took one look at Beau and Drusilla a tangle of arms and one of Drusilla’s legs, flipped on her heel, and disappeared in a blur of
light. Her ashen face told him to get out there.

  He grabbed Drusilla by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall.

  “Oh, Beau!” She gasped, pushing her chest out.

  His stomach roiled. “I will never settle for you or any woman like you ever again.”

  Her mouth dropped open, her eyes going hard. She began to shake and he released her quickly.

  Slamming through the doors, he made it to the parking lot just as Cindy’s car stopped to wait for a break in traffic. He sprinted across the lot, throwing himself on the back window like his stuntman. His leg hit the trunk with a loud BAM! A sharp pain throbbed, like her car had given him the ultimate dead leg. Instead of sticking to the window, his momentum carried him over part of the car roof and off the side. He yelled out, the asphalt coming up fast. He stuck his hands out to break his fall and lost a palm-full of skin. His left wrist groaned. He cursed and rolled, cursed and rolled, cursed … and flopped to a stop.

  Chapter 13

  Cindy stared in her rearview mirror. Was that Beau? Throwing the car into park, she scrambled out of her seatbelt, out of her car, and around to the other side.

  “Beau?” she asked the crumpled heap by her back tire. Bending down, she rolled him over. He cursed, holding his hands close to his chest. “What are you doin’?” she asked.

  “Learning why my stuntman makes so much money.” He grimaced.

  His right hand was scraped raw and he turned his left hand over several times, checking his wrist.

  “Is it broken?” she asked.

  “Feels like a sprain.”

  “Here.” She put her hands under his arm and helped steady him as he got to his feet. Thankfully he wasn’t in shock or off balance, because if this bear-sized man went over, they were both going down.

  As soon as he was on his feet, Beau went into action. “You have to get inside right now.” He spread his arms and herded her towards the building.

  She shook her head and tried to dodge him. “I’m never going through those doors again.”

  “Cindy—listen to me. There’s a lawyer in Patricia’s office who says you own Knight Studios.”

  “I what?!”

  “Your dad put it in a trust of some sort. If you don’t get in there before noon, it transfers to Patricia.”

  That would so be Daddy. He’d want her to live out her twenties—to enjoy them before taking the reins. Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision. “Daddy.” Her hand went to her mouth.

  And Beau! He’d chased after her, risked his life—the fool—and left Drusilla behind.

  “Come on—if you don’t get inside, you’ll lose it all.”

  There was no way she was going to let that happen. Studio now—making up later. She grabbed his hand, and he yelped.

  “Sorry!” She grabbed his bicep instead. He was always fishing for compliments, so she baited her hook. “Have I ever told you how strong you are?”

  “You don’t mean that.” He grinned as they raced back towards the building.

  She returned his smile. “Mirror, mirror …”

  His laughter died out as they tugged on the front doors. Locked. Drusilla stood on the other side, a wicked glint in her eye. “You may have won Beau, but you won’t get Knight.”

  Beau checked his phone. Eleven-forty.

  “I have you?” she asked Beau. She’d hoped since he chased after her said that he was hers, but even a girl had to go fishing once in a while. They both tugged on the doors.

  “Didn’t you get my cake?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but I also saw pictures of y’all at the club.” She watched his muscles bulge as he fought with the lock. She’d consider locking him out of every place they ever went just so she could have the view.

  “They said it was a family outing. I thought you’d be there, and then Patricia gave me this sob story about Drusilla being on the rebound and—”

  She waved her hands. “Say no more.” Patricia was a gold-medal manipulator.

  He stopped pulling on the door and placed his hands on his hips. “You were jealous.”

  She bit her lip.

  “You were.” He grabbed her up in his arms and planted a kiss right on her unsuspecting lips. Cindy melted into him, her feet dangling above the ground.

  Drusilla banged on the glass in frustration.

  Cindy and Beau grinned with their foreheads together.

  Beau brushed his fingers down her cheek. “I’m sorry you’re going to lose Knight Studios. I know how much it means to you.”

  Cindy winked. “I’m not going to lose the company.” She tipped her head towards the door. “Can you keep dragon lady busy?”

  “I think so.”

  She kissed him quickly. “Thanks. And don’t worry. I’m not giving up without a fight.”

  He growled. “You’re so hot right now.”

  She laughed before running back to her car and peeling out of the parking lot. The delivery entrance could be accessed by a small alley on the other side of the building. If she hurried, she’d make it just in time.

  *

  Beau turned to the glass. Drawing upon his training, he pouted out his lip and struck a humble pose. “’Kay, she’s gone now. Can I come back in?”

  Drusilla put her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so. In fact, we’re cancelling this project.”

  Beau rattled the doors. Locked tight. Drusilla jumped back like she’d been shocked.

  Beau pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her through the glass.

  “What’re you doing?” she demanded.

  His fingers flew as he manipulated the photo. “I’m posting this to Insta.” He flipped the phone around so she could see her image with the words “Social Piranha” underneath. “I have 1.6 million followers.”

  “No!” She screamed and unlocked the door.

  Beau caught sight of Cindy creeping in through the back door. He held the phone above his head in an effort to keep her attention on him. “I’m pressing send.”

  Drusilla went nuts.

  Chapter 14

  Cindy cringed as Drusilla went into full drama mode. She hadn’t had a tantrum this big since the hair stylist cut off three inches of her sable locks.

  That was a good day.

  If she could get down the hallway without Drusilla stopping her, today would be a good day, too. To think, all this time Patricia had been scheming to steal the company right out from under her. And all the while Cindy was making lattes and aesthetician appointments, cleaning floors and buying underwear for the woman and her horrible daughters. The thought made her burn with anger.

  Trusting that Beau could handle one crazy woman—after all, he was Beau Mckay the movie star; he had experience with crazy fans—she headed for Patricia’s office.

  Tomás poked his head out of the cubicle and waved her on.

  For the first time in two years, the door was shut. That didn’t stop her though. This was her office, and she wanted in. Grabbing the handle, she pushed and slammed her hip into the locked door. Cindy rubbed the bone. “Do you have a key?” she asked Tomás.

  “No. But I have an idea.” He went into his cubicle and pressed the button for Patricia’s speaker phone.

  “Tomás,” Cindy whispered. “She is going to be so mad at you.” If Drusilla could throw a tantrum, then Patricia could pitch a fit.

  He smiled. “You’re worth it, peanut.”

  “Mrs. Knight?” Tomás hit speaker so Cindy could hear too.

  “I told you not to disturb me,” Patricia griped.

  “Yes ma’am, but I thought your guest would like to know his car is being towed.”

  “My car?!” a man gasped. A second later the door swung open and a man Cindy vaguely recognized from her father’s funeral appeared. She almost remembered talking to him at the house afterward. Not talking—dismissing him. She’d been in a haze of grief and couldn’t bring herself to make polite conversation, preferring to stare at nothing and remain numb for as long as possi
ble.

  Hall. His name was Hall.

  “Excuse me.” He tried to push past Cindy, but she sidestepped so they collided.

  “Your car is fine, sir.” Tomás blocked the other side of the hallway.

  Cindy touched his arm. “I’m sorry to trick you, Mr. Hall, but Patricia has blocked contact between us for the last two years.” Her heart pounded so loudly she wondered if she’d hear his response.

  “Cindy?” He leaned closer and squinted.

  Excitement trilled through her veins. “I would very much like to take ownership of Knight Studios, Mr. Hall.”

  “What do you mean, blocked contact?” He folded his arms.

  “I mean I didn’t know about the trust or anything until just a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m confused.” He looked over his shoulder at Patricia standing just inside her office door, hovering like a snake about to strike. “I was led to believe that you walked away from your father’s company and were estranged from your stepmother. And you wouldn’t even speak to me after the funeral.”

  Cindy held up a finger. She stepped to her desk and pulled open the top drawer. “This was taken a week before Daddy passed at a release party. I’ve kept it in my desk so I can look at it every day while I work here.” She pointed to the swivel chair. “We can turn on the computer and I’ll show you documents I created less than a week ago.”

  Mr. Hall contemplated the image.

  “And I can assure you…,” said Beau, as he joined the group. Cindy stared at the rip in his shirt and the claw marks on his neck. Despite his rough appearance, he was all swagger and confidence. “She’s been actively working for the company as a scriptwriter.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “And she’s excellent at what she does.”

  Cindy glowed. In all their conversations, he’d never told her if he liked the script. She kind of assumed he did, but having an actor at Beau’s level praise her work was empowering.